Newsletter: Samhain 2025
- Midwest Coven Cast
- Oct 31
- 8 min read
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The Fall of Empires and the Rise of Witches: A Samhain Reflection
Every Samhain, as the leaves turn brittle and the veil thins, I find myself thinking about the meaning of fall. Yes, it’s the season of tumbling leaves, of apple-scented air, of earth settling into her long slumber. But this year, as I light my candles and prepare my tricks and treats, I can’t help thinking about another kind of fall—the kind that happens to empires, hierarchies, and those who cling too tightly to control.
The wheel of the year turns, but so too does the wheel of history. And every time the trees shed their leaves, I am reminded that all systems—no matter how mighty—eventually return to dust. The empires that burned witches once thought themselves eternal, too.
When we speak of “witches,” we often summon images of bonfires and trials, of the women (and men, and sometimes children) whose bodies were consumed by the same fear they were accused of conjuring. The witch hunts of Europe were not just mass delusions; they were political. They were the moral panic of systems sensing their own decay.
In the late Middle Ages, as feudalism waned and the Church’s power wavered, the old guard needed a scapegoat. And who better than the herbalist, the midwife, the cunning woman who answered to no bishop, no king, and no patriarch? Her independence threatened the order. Her knowledge was decentralized power—something every empire fears most.
So they branded her as “fallen.” Fallen from grace. Fallen from obedience. Fallen woman. The language of “fall” became a moral weapon. The empire falls, but before it does, it insists that someone else has fallen first.
It’s easy to comfort ourselves by thinking those dark days are behind us. After all, we no longer hang witches in the town square. But I see echoes of those old pyres flickering in the corners of our modern world.
When politicians push for laws that erase bodily autonomy, when school boards ban books that speak truths inconvenient to the ruling narrative, when religious nationalism masquerades as moral righteousness—it’s the same script, just in modern costume. Every empire that fears its fall tries to tighten its grip on power, and every tightening is done in the name of “purity,” “tradition,” or “the good old days.”
Sound familiar?
Those of us who walk witchy paths—who revere the Earth, honor ancestors, and celebrate diversity in practice—know what it feels like to live outside the sanctioned story. We are inheritors of those who were burned not for their wickedness, but for their refusal to bow. When an empire begins to falter, it always turns its gaze first toward the unconventional, the ungovernable, and the unrepentantly free.
Sometimes I think the United States is in its own autumn. The days grow darker, the rhetoric colder, and yet—there’s beauty in this fall. Because in nature, decay feeds growth. Leaves rot into nourishment. The forest floor hums with fungi and life. When an empire begins to crumble, something wild and human begins to bloom underneath.
I see it in the grassroots movements rising from every corner: people building community gardens, mutual aid networks, spiritual circles that reject fear-based religion in favor of inclusive reverence. I see witches, pagans, and spiritual seekers reclaiming practices once deemed heretical and infusing them with compassion and purpose.
The empire may fall, but we—the people who listen to the whispers of wind and root—are planting the seeds of what comes next.
Consider the witches of Poland under Nazi occupation, who practiced folk magic in secret to protect families from soldiers. Or the Romani women across Europe who kept their spiritual traditions alive through persecution. Think of enslaved Africans who merged ancestral practices with Christianity under the watchful eyes of their oppressors, birthing new religions like Hoodoo, Santería, and Vodou.
Every time tyranny rose, witchcraft adapted. It hid in plain sight, changed its language, moved in the shadows—and waited for the fall.
And fall they did.
No empire lasts forever. The Roman Empire declared Christianity the only acceptable faith—then fell. The witch-burning fervor of Europe—collapsed into Enlightenment and science. Theocratic empires, colonial powers, and dictatorships—all have eventually crumbled under the weight of their own fear.
I sometimes wonder how future historians will read our era. Will they see the early 21st century as the dawn of another fall? Will they write about how a handful of loud voices tried to strip rights and silence the marginalized, only to accelerate their own unraveling?
The patterns are there: censorship, fear of diversity, obsession with control, attacks on bodily autonomy. They are the flailing gestures of an empire afraid to admit that its time has passed.
And yet, even as the leaves fall and institutions decay, there’s an energy that feels electric—a knowing that this collapse isn’t an end, but a composting. We, the witches, the artists, the healers, the free-thinkers, are the mycelium running beneath the forest floor. We are patient. We know that every fall is also a beginning.
So as Samhain arrives, and the year dies once more, I’ll light my candles not just for my ancestors, but for every “witch” who lived through an empire’s paranoia. For those who dared to love, heal, and resist in the face of power’s cruelty. And I’ll whisper thanks for their endurance—because we are their legacy.
The empires may rise again, and fall again. But witches have outlasted them all.
This is the gift of the fall: the reminder that what crumbles can feed what grows. The old world’s decay nourishes the new. The collapse of empires gives way to something freer, wilder, more human.
And so I welcome this season of falling—with reverence and defiance both. For in every leaf that drifts to the ground, I see the promise that the cycle continues. That even when the towers crumble, life—and magic—always return.
Samhain blessings to the fallen, and to those still standing. May we meet again in the spring, when the seeds of our resilience begin to rise.
Feed the People: A Ritual of Mutual Aid
Autumn teaches us the quiet art of sharing. The trees offer their leaves to nourish the soil, and the earth gives back in countless small ways. In this season of exchange and renewal, we are reminded that generosity is a cycle, a living rhythm that sustains both giver and receiver.
Now, more than ever, that power matters. Since October 1, 2025, the federal government has been shut down. More than 670,000 federal employees are furloughed, and another 730,000 continue working without pay (Bipartisan Policy Center; CBS News). Meanwhile, the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP), which supports roughly 42 million Americans, faces an imminent halt to benefits starting November 1 (ABC News).
In such a moment, when public safety nets wobble, our small, local acts of care become vital threads in the larger web of survival. One can. One loaf. One gesture. Together, we create balance where the system falters.
Decide on a style & location for your Little Free Pantry
Decide if your pantry will be indoors or outdoors. (An outdoor box will have to be waterproof and out of direct sunlight.)
Select a location that is highly visible and receives good foot traffic.
Ensure the terrain is flat, free of tripping hazards.
The pantry should be positioned approximately 36-48 inches off the ground.
Check property ownership and get proper permissions.
Gather materials & tools
Materials: Exterior-grade plywood (or a pre-made weatherproof cabinet), 2x4s, roofing material, cabinet door with weather stripping, rust-resistant hinges, stainless steel screws, wood glue, silicone calk, exterior paint, laminated signage.
Tools: drill, screwdriver, circular saw or jigsaw, measuring tape, level, paintbrush, sander.
Build the pantry
Cut plywood for the back and sides of pantry box.
Frame the box using 2x4s (look up simple framing).
Build out 2-3 shelves and fix them in place with screws and wood glue.
Weatherproof the pantry by adding a roof & a door.
Create a sloped roof to shed water with a 2–3-inch overhang.
Cover with roofing materials & seal seams with calk.
Fit a front door and add hinges.
Add weatherstripping to door.
Elevate off the ground to keep away from pests & puddles (build a simple frame out of 2x4s).
Sand & paint with outdoor waterproof paint.
Mount or anchor into place.
Put up appropriate signage.
Signage to consider.
“Take what you need. Leave what you can.”
“No open, home-made, or perishable foods.”
“Please check dates & packaging for defects before donating.”
Contact info & email
Allergy notice: “Contains common allergens, user assumes all responsibility”.
Starting stock plan (aim for 50-75 items).
8 Canned proteins (tuna, chicken, beans)
6 Canned vegetables
4 Canned fruits
6 Boxes rice/pasta
4 Jars pasta sauce
3 Jars peanut butter
6 Cartons shelf-stable milks
8 Boxes cereal/oatmeal
6 Cans soup/cilli
4 Packs instant mashed potatoes
6 Packs crackers
10 Packs ramen
10 Granola bars
6 Cups fruit/applesauce
Baking basics (sugar, flour, oil)
Formula & baby items
Hygiene items
Even though the world feels uncertain, the Wheel of the year continues turning, and with it comes another chance to act with intention. The pantries we build today may serve people we may never meet, but the care within them will ripple outward, changing the story of this season within our community.
Shadow Work: Fall reflections
As autumn deepens and the nights grow quiet, imagine yourself as a pumpkin resting between light and shadow.
On the outside, you shine warm and bright — but inside, there are tangled strings, hidden seeds, and empty spaces that tell your deeper story.
What parts of yourself have you carved away to make others comfortable or to protect yourself?
What old feelings or forgotten dreams still cling to the walls of your heart, waiting to be seen or replanted?
If you placed a candle inside your hollowed spaces, what truth would its light reveal?
Remember: being hollowed out doesn’t mean you’re broken. It means you’ve made space for new light to live inside you.
Southern Hemisphere Shout Out: Beltane
The wheel also turns in the Southern hemisphere and Beltane has come to our witchy friends there. May an abundant harvest season come from the care you put into your new growth now. If you are interested to see how we celebrated Beltane here in the North, you can check out our Beltane newsletter from earlier this year!
Samhain Coloring Club
In true fall fashion, pumpkins are everywhere - even among the coloring club pages! On the simple pumpkin, get creative and colorfully “carve” your pumpkin however your heart desires. We also have a second coloring sheet inspired by this turn’s ritual. Use your imagination about what you would include in your ideal community pantry. Draw/color-in these items on the empty shelves of the “draw-a-pantry” coloring sheet. You can participate in coloring club by either printing the coloring sheets or load them into your preferred design program, color, and share a picture (or screenshot) of your creation with us on social media! Tag us (@midwestcovencast) or use the hashtag #midwestcovencast. We’re excited to see your work!
Patreon THANKS
As always, a huge thanks must go out to our Patreon subscribers - especially Steve D. and anonymous - who help us keep this little operation going. From the Wheel of the Year Newsletter, to our website hosting, to our yearly business fees, our patreon coven helps keep this little dream of ours alive. THANK YOU!
Calendar
31 October Samhain begins
01 November Samhain ends
05 November Full Beaver Moon (7:19am CST)
20 November New Moon (12:47am CST)
04 December Full Cold Moon (5:14pm CST)
19 December New Moon (7:43pm CST)
21 December Yule begins
01 January Yule ends
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