October Stories
SAGE
For clearing more than just the air.
There’s something about burning sage when the seasons change.
For centuries, sage has been used in cleansing rituals — the smoke moving through a space, around doorways and into corners, as a way of letting go of what feels heavy or unwanted.
Some see it as a simple ritual of renewal. Others believe the smoke helps clear stagnant or negative energy from a home.
And there’s an interesting physical side to sage, too. Sage contains compounds that have demonstrated antimicrobial activity in laboratory studies.
So perhaps it’s doing more than one thing.
Or perhaps the ritual itself is what matters — opening the windows, lighting the sage, watching the smoke drift through the room, and consciously deciding that something old can leave.
TRY THIS
Open a window and light a small bundle of dried sage. Let it catch briefly, then blow out the flame and allow it to smolder.
Move slowly through your space, letting the smoke drift into corners and around doorways.
Then let it go.
Whether you're clearing the air, clearing the energy, or simply creating a moment to begin again, October feels like a good time for a reset.
Small note: sage smoke should be used with good ventilation, and never left burning unattended.
THE BLACK CAT
For centuries, black cats have been associated with mystery, luck, protection—and, depending on where you lived, prosperity.
In ancient Egypt, cats were deeply revered and associated with Bastet, the goddess of home, protection, fertility, and motherhood. Cats were valued members of the household, and harming one was taken very seriously.
Then there were the sailors. British and European seafarers often believed that having a black cat aboard a ship could bring good luck and help ensure a safe journey home. There was practical reasoning, too: cats kept ships free of mice and rats that could destroy food supplies and damage ropes.
And the folklore gets even more interesting.
In Scotland, a black cat appearing at your doorstep has traditionally been associated with prosperity. In Japan, black cats can symbolize good fortune, happiness, and even luck in love. And in parts of France, folklore held that treating a black cat kindly could bring wealth and good fortune.
So how did the black cat become a symbol of bad luck?
Maybe that's the real mystery.
Perhaps we've been telling the story backwards all along.
THE
THINNING OF
THE VEIL
The Thinning Veil
What if there's more to the world than what we can see?
For centuries, people have imagined a thin boundary between the world we experience and something beyond it.
Different cultures have given that unseen space different names, stories, and meanings.
Some believe the veil is thinnest at certain times of year. October, with its changing light, longer shadows,
and ancient traditions, has become one of the seasons most associated with the idea.
Maybe it's folklore.
Maybe it's intuition.
Maybe it's our intuitive inner knowing that what we see isn't the whole story.
But there is another way to think about the veil—not as a doorway to something frightening, but as an invitation to become more aware.
What if “thinning the veil” simply means becoming more open to what we normally overlook?
A feeling that arrives before an explanation. A coincidence that stops you in your tracks. A sudden idea that seems to come from nowhere.
A moment in nature that makes the world feel somehow larger.
Some spiritual traditions describe this as an awakening—a shift toward greater awareness and a deeper sense of connection.
\Whether you see that as energy, intuition, consciousness, or simply paying closer attention is entirely up to you.
THIN PLACES
There are certain places—and certain moments—that have long been thought of as places where the veil feels thinner.
Not necessarily because something supernatural happens there, but because they exist between one thing and another.
Where land meets water.
Where desert meets forest.
Where earth meets sky.
Mountaintops. Waterfalls. Caves. Natural arches. Places wrapped in fog or mist.
Even sunset—that brief, beautiful space between day and night.
Or the strange moment between sleeping and waking, when you're not quite in one world or the other.
Perhaps that's what makes these places feel different.
They are transitional.
They ask us to pause.
And maybe that's the real mystery.
Why do certain places make us feel more present? Why does standing beside the ocean at dusk, looking
out from a mountaintop, or walking through a forest in the mist sometimes create a feeling that is difficult to put into words?
Is it the landscape?
The light?
The quiet?
Something happening inside our own minds?
Or could there be something more?
We don't have to decide.
Maybe the veil isn't a doorway at all.
Maybe it's found in the places where one thing becomes another—where ocean becomes shore, day becomes night, earth meets sky.
Maybe these are simply places that invite us to become still.
And perhaps when we become still enough, we notice things we normally move too quickly to see.
Have you ever been somewhere that felt like a thin place?
Somewhere the world seemed quieter. More alive.
Somewhere you noticed something you might have missed anywhere else.
Maybe the veil isn't something we cross.
Maybe it's simply where we become still enough to notice.
