I’ve been to some Halloween-themed stores recently, because it has been one of my favorite things to do when Autumn comes. But this year . . . something feels very different.
I don’t know what or why, but it’s really harshing my buzz. Halloween, aka Samhain to us Earthy-Pagany types, is one of the best things about the onset of the Long Dark, and I love celebrating spooky stuff and tweaking Death’s nose a little bit. I love costumes, candles, ghostly lights, spooky fog and the feel of ancient history coming to life. For one night, we can be anybody we choose, any way we choose.
But in recent years most of it has become so disposable, like the idea that something lasting can happen from this kind of revelry is simply unthinkable. Yeah, it takes a little effort and money to come up with a really kick-ass costume, and it’s sad to think it’s going to be worn one time and then . . . Goodwill? Back of the closet? Trash? Because honestly, where can you wear an authentic Elizabethan pirate costume these days?
And don’t get me started on the sickeningly sexualized costumes women are saddled with. Men can be a doctor, women have to be Sexy Doctor — or more likely, Sexy Nurse. Sexy Pirate. Sexy Prisoner. I even saw a Sexy Handmaid’s Tale costume which nearly made my head explode. Apparently the patriarchy is alive and well and has completely taken over the costume industry.
For me, Samhain is all about transmutation. Change in the air. Winter as incubation period. We make our desires and dreams real by dressing up as if we are this, or all that, and by focusing our will upon the change, we can anchor it into our lives. We plant the seed at Samhain, rest and reset ourselves while we nurture that seed over the winter, and in the spring, we start to see those changes budding and flowering in the Real World. Which is as big a “Wow, cool!” moment as they get.
But most of us don’t want to give it that much thought.
Monotheism really put the brakes on our ability to craft the world as we like it. All the old holidays served as way-markers and wheel-spinners, moving us forward into the next phase of life, reminding us that everything cycles, and what comes down will go up again. Samhain was one of the most important, because it helped us to overcome our fear of death.
Why’s that so important? Because it happens to everybody. If we refuse to accept that we’re going to die because we’re too afraid to face it, then we never really come alive. I sure do hope you already get that. I truly do.
I’m one of those difficult people who insists upon things having substance. I want my holidays to be Holy. Soul-centered. Heart-connected. Transmutative, or at least transformative. I want to go in feeling anticipation and come out feeling bliss, release, renewal, rebirth, or at least, “Hey, I think I know what the next thing is now.”
How are you supposed to get there in a tissue-paper thin, 100% polyester costume that exhorts the wearer not to go near open flames . . . on Halloween? What? No candles, no bonfires? How are you supposed to celebrate at all? Sheesh!
Enough whinin’. What am I gonna do about it?
This year, 2018, there is a half-moon, exactly 50%, waning toward the Dark Moon. How significant, how chewy, how appropriate! Talk about substantial! Especially for a woman of a certain age. I’ll be 54 in December, that’s about the half-way point, right? Maybe just over. I’m heading into my Cronage, still full of light and life, but ready to ease gracefully into the crowning stage of my life. A new phase, Halflight, is beginning.
For a costume, I will look to women who have embodied this phase with grace, elegance, and badassery. Helen Mirren. Maya Angelou. Ruth Bader Ginsberg. Oprah Winfrey. Judi Dench. Hey, Michelle Obama is 54, too, and damn, she looks good (I just love her). Smart, feisty, powerful, bad-ass women who make the Halflight years look amazing will be my spirit guides for this celebration.
I’ll break out the really good dishes to serve tomato soup and vegan quesidillas with roasted pepper pumpkin faces, and fetch down mom’s old chocolate decanter with the tiny eggshell cups for dark, rich, creamy decadent dessert (hello, Cacoco Midnight).
And we’ll invite our ghosts to tell us stories, laugh at the antics of our beloved dead, and plant seeds to winter over and flower in early spring.
Hey, I hope you’ll subscribe and keep hanging out here. What’s your favorite Holy Day? I’d love to help you keep it sacred and keep it safe.