Friday, October 31, 2008

Tuesday, October 31, 2006

HALLOWE'EN 2006

A Much Maligned Holiday
from a Mostly Pagan
and Respectfully Irreverent Perspective...

We wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes, --
This debt we pay to human guile;
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,
And mouth with myriad subtleties.

Why should the world be overwise,
In counting all our tears and sighs?
Nay, let them only see us, while
We wear the mask.
-- Paul Laurence Dunbar --

Probably the most recognizable of the iconic practices that pertain to Hallowe'en is the donning of the mask.

Hallowe'en is The Grand Masquerade. The concept suggests that this is the chance to be something or someone who is not our true self -- maybe someone we admire or even abhor. Contrary to that notion, it may also be construed as an opportunity to inflict our truly scary self upon the masses -- sort of try it on for size and see if the world finds the real person agreeable, see if the worlds likes us, the real you -- the real me. Arguably, depending on how comfortable one is with their true self this exercise in truth or consequences could be really scary. For you… for me… and for others. Ha!

Masks are not just for Hallowe'en. We wear a mask every day in the trappings of the persona we present to the world at large. Masks are how we shield our inner self, the vulnerable self from what can be harsh reality. It is a built in defense mechanism that can be pulled out of our threatened psyche as quick as the drop of a witch's hat.

It is not a single persona, alternate ego, or mask we carry with us either as we go about the business of life in the mundane realm. Most of us have a myriad of disguises. The mask we don at any given time is not a pose. It is not our intent to misrepresent ourselves to others. A persona is the SELF as self-construed, and is likely to change according to circumstance.

A mask is simply the way we deal with misconception and negativity in a world that is all too ready to criticize who we are and what we do based mainly on our appearance and demeanor.

The face or self we show to a stranger on the street is different from the self we reveal to a close friend and that self, differs from the one we present to family and that self, differs from the one we show the neighbors and that self, differs from the person we are at work and the self who chats with the preacher man on Sunday.

If you think about it, we are a people of many faces. No one is entirely without guile. We become the person it is most convenient for us to be at any given time. Or, we become that person who magically appears when mother's phantom voice in your head says: mind your manners.

When expressed in such simplistic terms, it begins to sound like a collective consciousness suffering from mass multiple personality disorder. But it is hardly a disease, this wearing of masks -- I prefer to think of personality as having facets. No person is one dimensional. Perhaps duplicitous behavior has to do with one's willingness and ability to conform to another person's preconceived notion of who we are. I mean, there are things about myself I would share with my closest friends but not necessarily with my 95 year old grandmother, things my husband knows about me that my parents and children do not, things about myself that I share with no one. That's the Scorpio in me talking. It is a fact that people make assumptions about other people based on outward trappings, our speech and our behavior in public -- aka appearance and demeanor. We should not judge (at least not without compunction) but -- Alas! Such is our nature!

So! We don our masks and muddle our way through.

It is always interesting to see which persona a person will adopt at Hallowe'en. I for one, wonder what prompts the choice. Are we a witch, a vampire, or the IRS man because we admire or loathe that stereotype or are we projecting an image that we think others will admire or loathe? Nine times out of ten - I would have to say loathe is the answer. Are we making a statement about ourselves or do we consciously consider the impact our disguise may have on others at all?

I have met people who go to great lengths and expense to construct the perfect Hallowe'en costume. This type of person is very conscious of their personal image, even if it be farce. What this person projects on the world is carefully contrived and controlled. It is not likely you will see this person as they really are -- ever.

But let the world dream otherwise,
We wear the mask!
-- Paul Laurence Dunbar --

I have observed young adults in a resale clothing shop methodically go through racks of odd clothing - garments, coats, hats, skirts and even pajamas that hang there all year long with apparently no other purpose than to become a one-of-a-kind Hallowe'en costume. What emerges from the racks of discards is often remarkable. The end product or ensemble is the result of pure spontaneity and creativity and perhaps a decided lack of inhibition. They become whatever the offerings dictate, they embrace the offerings and wholeheartedly go with it! How refreshing! When I was a child, indeed, when many people of my generation were of trick-or-treat age, a sheet, a wig or grandpa's old pants as costume held the same charm. It was not so much about how we were perceived as how we perceived ourselves.

I have observed children who are very certain about what they want to be for trick-or-treat and why. I am a super hero because he saves people. I am a fireman because they do good work and drive a big truck. I am a princess because they live happily ever after. I am a wizard because they can do magic. I am a vampire because I vant to bite you! Grrrrr! I have observed other children who have not a clue about why they need a costume except as a means to get free candy and still others who are intimidated or frightened of the process. Then, there are those few who choose or are chosen for according to their parent's desires. You grownups -- Stop It! Stop demand-dressing your new millennium children like ladybugs and angels and woe begotten clowns or worse Disney characters from past generations (and centuries) with whom they cannot possibly identify. Everyone knows who Mickey Mouse is -- but not all of us get him. And what is really annoying to me are parents who use their children's costume as a political platform. Ugh! So sad -- is the trampling of individualism, imagination, and creativity. Remember: children are our best hope for the survival of the arts and without their unrestrained creative input -- everything becomes repetitive and conformist. Same ol'. Same ol'. Yikes!

So what is the difference between a Hallowe'en mask and those we don every day?

Costuming for Hallowe'en is to wrap one's self in a temporary facade. It is about self-expression. It is a masquerade. It is basically about pretense, imagination and frivolity. It can be a healthy approach to facing one's minor fears. A person who dresses as a monster may be irrationally afraid of monsters or the idea of monsters. Dressing as a monster is a way to own that fear, or at the very least understand it better.

But, how about the person who converses with the bank teller about the weather and really has not looked up to see if there are clouds in the sky? What about the person who discusses politics and religion in open company? Are we really prone to speak our minds or do we merely project what is expected of a good Democrat, Republican or Christian? Is the person on the job for eight hours the same person who comes home with us? Are any of the above the same person you saw reflected in the mirror this morning? Not likely.

Hmmmm... This daily masquerade, is it healthy? I think so. The art of self-preservation in my mind is healthy if it harms none. If one doesn't mistake what is temporary and perhaps superfluous as truth and if one can let go of that part of the ego which is served by illusion.

One need only fear a persona, if one cannot stop wearing the mask.

Ballad: The Pantomime Super to His Mask

Vast empty shell!
Impertinent, preposterous abortion!
With vacant stare,
And ragged hair,
And every feature out of all proportion!
Embodiment of echoing inanity!
Excellent type of simpering insanity!
Unwieldy, clumsy nightmare of humanity!
I ring thy knell!

To-night thou diest,
Beast that destroy'st my heaven-born identity!
Nine weeks of nights,
Before the lights,
Swamped in thine own preposterous nonentity,
I've been ill-treated, cursed, and thrashed diurnally,
Credited for the smile you wear externally -
I feel disposed to smash thy face, infernally,
As there thou liest!

I've been thy brain:
I've been the brain that lit thy dull concavity!
The human race
Invest MY face
With thine expression of unchecked depravity,
Invested with a ghastly reciprocity,
I'VE been responsible for thy monstrosity,
I, for thy wanton, blundering ferocity -
But not again!

'T is time to toll
Thy knell, and that of follies pantomimical:
A nine weeks' run,
And thou hast done
All thou canst do to make thyself inimical.
Adieu, embodiment of all inanity!
Excellent type of simpering insanity!
Unwieldy, clumsy nightmare of humanity!
Freed is thy soul!

(THE MASK RESPONDETH.)
Oh! master mine,
Look thou within thee, ere again ill-using me.
Art thou aware
Of nothing there
Which might abuse thee, as thou art abusing me?
A brain that mourns THINE unredeemed rascality?
A soul that weeps at THY threadbare morality?
Both grieving that THEIR individuality
Is merged in thine?
-- W.S. Gilbert --

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
So? What or who are you gonna be for Hallowe'en? And, is that persona a reflection of your true self? And, can I answer those questions?

In years past I have been a princess (Mom's choice), a ghost (several times), a hobo, a gypsy, grandma in her squaw dress, little sexy red riding hood, a scarecrow, the bad persona in the good, the bad and the ugly and others but most often I choose to be a witch. A witch who dons a purple crushed velvet cape, red and black stockings and a pointy hat is a perfect fit for me. Yep -- that's right, the stereotype witch, albeit of the benevolent sort. I am a good witch who loves the night and the masquerade. I am a kindly witch who delights in the parade of children (young and old) marching up to the door as much in awe of the witch who treats them as the witch is in awe of the wondrous variety of characters they pretend to be. I am a witch who will watch until the last jack-o-lantern winks out at the Witching Hour and be sad (temporarily) that it is a whole long year until next Hallowe'en. That is who I will be this year, too. That Ol' Witch. I am comfortable with that persona. It suits me.

Is that person -- that raggedy ol' witch -- representative of my true self? Well, yes -- sort of. But I do not have to tell you how or why or in what way -- do I?

That is part of the fun of donning a mask... is it not? It is absolutely magickal!

With that said:
May you enjoy the masquerade, my friends.
May you embrace the persona you adopt this year.
May you dance in wild abandon down Jack-o’-Lantern Avenue.
May your spirit feel as free as a rook winging through the twilight sky.
Be who you are or who you want to be!
Own the Magick!
The Magick of Hallowe'en!

Respectfully yours in caliginous chaos
An it harm none – do as you will…
Octoberwych
© 2006 (text revised 2018) All rights reserved

Monday, October 31, 2005

Hallowe'en Rant 2005

HALLOWE'EN 2005

from a mostly Pagan
and respectfully irreverent perspective...

The holiest of all holidays are those
Kept by ourselves in silence and apart;
The secret anniversaries of the heart.
-- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow -

Hallowe'en, is not really a holiday, at least, it is not like other official holidays in the USA. We do not get off work for Hallowe'en unless we ask for the day off, there is not a Fall break from school and thankfully, some pencil neck bureaucrat has not suggested we celebrate it on some Monday or other so government workers can have an extended weekend off.

The thirty-first of October is Hallowe'en. And I, for one, am happy to let it be what it is -- something set aside from the rest, a day that does not morph into the hum-drum card and flowers occasion, namby-pamby date night, or ham n' turkey fest like what happens to most other official American holidays.

Nooooo. For those of us who cherish the macabre sense of it -- Hallowe'en is a happening; it is more a season than a night.

For me, Hallowe'en is a frame of mind. It is a journey into darkness - the darkness of heart and mind. It is a time of remembrance. It is a time of ruminative cleansing. I do not fear it. In fact, I think a fair amount of reflection on the darker aspects of my nature allows me to banish those traits that prove unfavorable forthwith.

Being a Scorpio - I apparently harbor the darkest thoughts of all, so astrologists say. But that does not mean I sit around in gloomy rooms with the doom of mankind on my mind. It means that whatever lurks in the dark of mind and spirit I call out, challenge and meet head on. It means I can embrace the dark side of my nature, engage it, and reign the beast in -- if need be.

...the night that marks the transition from autumn to winter seems to have been of olden the time of year when the souls of the departed were supposed to revisit their old homes in order to warm themselves by the fire and to comfort themselves with good cheer from their affectionate kinfolk. -- Sir James Frazer, The Golden Bough, 1890

So Hallowe'en is the Dark Carnival. It is the holiday that speaks to our superstitions and fears about death, the dead, the realm of the dead - in other words - the uncharted mysteries still unknown to the vast majority of us.

This is the one time a year where one can confront that which frightens us without misgiving. It is OK to be scared and to scare others. We can poke harmless fun at our ghoulish anxieties. On this night, it is OK to be a bit creepy, burn a candle for loved ones who have crossed over to the other side, set an empty plate at the table in anticipation of a ghostly visitor and allow the jack-o-lantern to burn throughout the night.

Hallowe'en...
It is the departure from normal.
It is the danse macabre.
It is the mystique.
It is the masquerade.

Caliginous Chaos reigns supreme this night.

As you venture out into the velvet ink of the evening and the whisper of the wind as it rattles through bare branches sounds like a sigh from beyond the grave -- remember Hallowe'en is an ancient celebration although it was not always known by this name and the Old Ones linger in the shadows.

Does that give you a chill?

Give the night a little reverence. Say hello to the crescent that is the moon this year, hold a little part of the magick for yourself -- invoking it as you will on the secret anniversaries of the heart in years to come.

May your Jack-O-Lantern burn bright throughout the night my friends.

Brightest Blessings to You and Yours
this Hallowe'en 2005!

Respectfully yours in caliginous chaos
An it harm none – do as you will…
Octoberwych
© 2005 (text revised 2018) All rights reserved

Sunday, October 31, 2004

Hallowe'en Rant 2004

HALLOWE'EN 2004

from a mostly Pagan
and respectfully irreverent perspective...

Most ancient among gods and mortals,
let my worship be within the heart
that has truly tasted life,
for behold all acts of magic and art are my pleasure
and my greatest ritual is love itself.
-- Jim Garrison, Charge of the Crone --

Picture this scene: It is a chill October day. Sodden leaves fall from the trees and stick where they land as if coated with glue. The air is thick and damp, ripe with the odor of decay, rotting vegetation and rancid clay. The clouds overhead are pregnant with the promise of rain. A rumble of thunder in the distance serves as warning of the deluge to come.

Focus on a century old clapboard house situated on a large, unkempt corner lot at a dusty crossroads in little town Texas, not too far from the railroad tracks. Now picture in your mind's eye the house as haunted. Got it?

Haunted. The roof is worn, the siding old and mismatched, some of the windows are boarded over, and the rest of the crusty windows have rusty screens in black frames that hang slightly askew. The doors which have seen too many coats of paint have panes of thick, discolored, wavy glass. The hardware is old and tarnished to a dull, verdigris patina. One should note the doors still lock with a skeleton key. The white paint on the trim is washed out, chalky and peeling. The black paint on the metal railings and corner posts is all but faded away revealing bare metal which has succumbed to the ravages of rust. Along one side of the front stoop, a decrepit and precariously leaning carport almost shelters a vintage Ford from the elements. Shrubs of indeterminate species, a trio of them, struggle to keep their greenery in front of the low stoop. Dry thatch grasses and weeds round out the forlorn landscape. Spindly saplings of chinaberry and native pecan trees are scattered about. One small patch of old-fashioned pink primroses defiantly bloom next to the rickety back steps.

Now, picture this: A pale moon of a face appears in one of the windows. It hovers there in spectral fashion, seemingly without a body. Beside the head in the window an aged and gnarly hand appears to wave or beckon. The door opens a crack with a resounding and creepy screech and then slowly, slowly the opening grows wider and wider. A Woman with wispy hair the color of the first frost emerges. She totters out on spindly legs, supported by a curved bent-wood cane. She is wearing all black - black sweater, black slacks, black shoes. She has alert, black button eyes behind spectacles that sit low on a long, slender nose. Bent with age, the crone's steps are halting and tentative as she ventures past the threshold.

From her thin lips issues the raspy whisper of your name. She raises the cane in recognition, a light gleams in her dark eyes and with a crooked smile, she bids you welcome to her haunted abode. You smile and grasp the elbow of this elderly Dame and though you say otherwise, the thought runs through your head…

Greetings Grand Mother Witch!
Blessings Grand Mother Crone!

If I were telling a Hallowe'en story, this is likely how the Witch figure would enter the picture. She might be wearing a ragged black dress and long cloak instead of a sweater and slacks. In her hands would be a broom handle instead of a cane. And a pointy black hat would sit on her head at a jaunty angle just above the rim of her spectacles. The sound of one's name on her lips would strike a shiver in the heart.

The Crone Figure as Witch:
Witch figures of various types, whatever their sex or function, share characteristics which mark them out as not only abnormal but also frightening. -- John Widdowson

I speak of the fictional stereotype Witch - the Old Woman, the one regarded as a fearful creature. I said, creature -- not human. She is the Hag - the Stick Rider - the Withered One.

She is Grand Mother Witch. She is Grand Mother Crone.

I say this because if one were to take the stereotype image of a Wicked Witch: Comb her hair and clothe her properly according to the current fashion of the day -- well, she would magically transform into someone's beloved Grandmother. And vice-versa. A prim and proper Grandmother dressed in rags and a pointy hat would likely resemble any number of fairy tale Witches.

The physical appearance of Witch-figures is typically frightening and is often almost a caricature of all the most unpleasant human characteristics. -- John Widdowson

We nonchalantly and sometimes unconsciously assign the cruel label: Witch, Crone, or Hag to Old Women as a means of proverbially crossing ourselves against everything her time-worn features represent.

They are usually old, wrinkled, bent, crippled and reclusive. They often dress in dark, dirty, ragged clothes. They mutter to themselves or display other signs of abnormal or antisocial behavior. – John Widdowson

The Old Woman is the embodiment of our fears. Most people fear old age, ill health, infirmity, the deterioration of one's faculties and death. Most people fear the loss of their looks. Most people fear being alone. In other words, when we see an Old Woman, we irrationally fear and often deny the realization: that will be me one day.

The denigration of Old Women began centuries ago, and despite our pretense of morally correct consciousness in regard to the care of our elder population, continues even today.

Signs of old Womanhood are not supposed to be seen. Women are socially and professionally handicapped by wrinkles and gray hair in a way that men are not. -- Barbara Walker, The Crone

Definitions from: Dictionary.com
crone n. An ugly, withered old woman; a hag.
hag n. An old woman considered ugly or frightful
witch n. An ugly evil-looking old woman

I have an elderly Woman friend in her seventies. She is lively and independent, well-read, educated, charming and intelligent, well into her Crone years and experience. She shared with me this profound and dismaying assessment of her status in our society: Once a Woman reaches a certain stage in her life, she becomes invisible. She goes on to say that people, especially men, in particular young men, young Women as well, talk around her or through her or over her head without bothering to address her in a direct manner, seriously consider her opinion or her status as a person with vast experience in most matters.

By reducing an Old Woman to the status of the Witch Crone as the term is loosely understood (or misunderstood) by the vast majority of allegedly educated masses in present times we give ourselves free license to shun, deride, ignore, neglect and discount the Woman's validity and her sensibilities. In short, we make her sub-human.

This is a subject that has been much on my mind of late, for reasons that will become I fear, glaringly apparent as this rant continues.

I am always more reflective at this time of year and have given myself over to this contemplation. In addition, it has not escaped my attention that my October birthday this year brings me to the number 49. In Old Woman terms -- this numerical juncture is the grade before the summit of sorts - I am not quite there yet but close enough for a good, sharp look over the edge - eh?

The Crone Figure as Wise Woman:
A Woman who calls herself Crone is willing to acknowledge her age, wisdom, and power. Through conscious self-definition, she helps to reverse hundreds of years of oppression, degradation, and abuse aimed at old Women. -- Bayla Bower

I consider myself fortunate to have known my Grand Mothers and Great Grand Mothers on both the maternal and paternal side of my family. I mean, these Women were physical and emotional participants in my rearing. As a youngster I was fascinated with the elderly. I enjoyed their stories and gentle companionship. I never tired of listening to them, talking to them, and working alongside them. It never occurred to me to be bored with them. No, even as a teenager I cannot recall experiencing difficulty relating to them. I spent a good measure of time with my Grand Mothers and I am grateful for each and every moment I have had with these wonderful, Wise Women.

MY PATERNAL GREAT GRANDMOTHER was a demure, genteel lady with finely creased feathery soft skin. She smelled like dried rose petals. She seemed so delicate that one didn't hug her too hard for fear she would break, but the grip in her hands was strong. I marveled that these aged hands had produced such remarkably fine needlework. I remember she wore flowered dresses, kid gloves trimmed with pearl buttons on her hands when she went out and most times she wore a hat with fine netting to cover a head of snowy white hair. She talked so low one had to lean in close to hear what she was saying and her laugh was all but inaudible. She had an endearing smile and a sweet charm all her own. She had the kindest eyes I have ever seen. She lived alone in a tiny apartment, her only companion -- a parakeet with which she would converse. She did not seem lonely, rather she appeared content. I knew this Grand Mother the least of all. I lost her when I was still a teenager. As I consider the matter now, she seemed to gently fade away. I cherish the gentle memory of her. That's what I learned from her - the value of quiet and the mark of true gentility.

MY PATERNAL GRANDMOTHER was, without a doubt, the single, wisest, most influential person in my life. I adored her. I aspired to be her, still do. Sadly, while I am told otherwise from time-to-time, I know I am not anything like her, but the experience of HER keeps me trying.

She was a tall Woman of angular build. She was wrinkled, yes, but I never saw the lines on her face as disfiguring. She had a wide smile and thick, wavy hair the color of burnished pewter. She smelled most often of dish soap and lanolin. She simply was and is a presence. She was good and kind, patient and purposeful. She had a fluid economy of movement that made her seem to glide about her daily tasks. She was a Woman of calm industry. Everything she set her hand to was accomplished to the best of her ability, without haste, without frustration and seemingly without stress. She too, was a fine needle Woman and an excellent cook.

She was generous to a fault with worldly goods and her charitable nature was nothing short of magnanimous. I never heard her belittle or degrade another person, I never heard her complain about anything: her life, her chores, her children, her aches and pains, or her age. I never saw her get angry or show ill temper. And, without raising her voice or showing so much as a crinkle on her brow, she gently showed me the path to honest and more importantly, honorable living.

What I remember most is: she never told me I was wrong. Rather, she would point out a particular behavior or episode in question and in a few well-chosen words simply present an alternate, more forthright method of dealing with the situation in the future. Without fail, her suggestions always made the most remarkable sense to me. I was mystified by her intuitive knowledge although I did not yet know it as that.

The Woman had faith. Yes, she was a Christian. One of two real Christians I have known in my life and the one by which I judge all others who make that claim. Her faith was not something she did or studied or practiced to get right -- it is who she was. She did not preach it. She lived it. I lost this Grand Mother when I was still a very young Woman (in my twenties), but not before I learned much at her side about how to be true to myself without forsaking the welfare of others.

MY MATERNAL GREAT GRANDMOTHER was a lively, spirited creature. She was a plump, robust Woman with a mane of white hair and smooth, rosy cheeks. Her ear lobes were abnormally long from years of wearing large, dangly rhinestone earrings. She loved a shirtwaist (belted) dress, bright with flowers. She had a fresh, starchy scent about her, the smell of the garden and outdoors. She lived to the age of 101 and to the very last she was her sweet self. I am often asked if I know the secret to her longevity. I think I do. She met each day with a smile. She worked when she had to and rested when she could. She was not a creature of excess or one of leisure. She lived simply and attacked each day with vigor and a willingness to accept whatever the day brought with it. She had a sort of a go-with-the-flow philosophy that suited her well.

She walked nearly everywhere. She raised a fine garden and was known for her lovely flowers and tasty blackberries and cream. She was an excellent cook and kept her house neat, clean and starched to perfection. She loved toe-tappin' music and was what we consider a natural musician. She could play the piano, organ, banjo, guitar and a harmonica, all without benefit of instruction. She sang folk songs while tapping her toes and clapping her hands. She laughed easily and often. She told wonderful pioneer stories of knowing Indians, surviving harsh winters and walking beside covered wagons. There was no regular bedtime at this Grand Mother's house, no rules about how early one must rise, no distance that was too far to walk for an ice-cream cone on a hot summer afternoon, no set menu at her table -- one could have what one was hungry for. She was loved by everyone because she loved everyone. She was happy to have her family and friends about her and happy to go visitin' at the drop of a hat. I was in my thirties when I lost this Grand Mother. She taught me much about the joy of living and how to cherish the simple gifts of each day.

One could take these first three Grand Mothers as I have described them and transform them by way of clothing and accessory to represent a pale shadow of the Witch figure of this discussion, but none of them would come off as wicked no matter how well they might look the part. Why? Each of them aged well and gracefully into the stage of the Crone.

Each of them embraced their age and happily imparted their wisdom to a receptive audience. Me. They in essence, became the spirit of the Wise Woman of old with seemingly little effort.

It was the medieval metamorphosis of the Wise Woman into the Witch that changed the word Crone from a compliment to an insult and established the stereotype of malevolent Old Womanhood that continues to haunt elder Women today. -- Barbara Walker, The Crone

MY MATERNAL GRANDMOTHER is still living mostly on her own at age 94. I began this rant with a fictional rendering of her old home as a haunted house and it is her face that appears as the specter in the window. The description, while exaggerated, is fairly accurate. This Grand Mother is perhaps, the perfect example of the Witch/Hag/Crone figure I have described. If we removed her to the sixteenth century I have no doubt in my mind that her antics would result in her persecution as a Witch. Before I go further I must get this out - I absolutely adore her!

She is everything the other Grand Mothers were not and so much more, too. If I had to describe this Grand Mother in a single word - the word would be: SHREW. She is very vocal, extremely opinionated and most times abrasive in her bearing.

If I be waspish, best beware my sting!
-- Shakespeare, Taming of the Shrew --

She is a diminutive Woman, short, bent, and thin although she was not always so. I remember her as a full-figured, vigorous Woman, with coal black hair and snapping black eyes. She was always front and center at every family gathering. She never got the concept of keeping a low profile. She would never have been a wallflower. She has a lovely, smooth complexion and smells of rosebud salve. I associate her with dark colors, mostly black and red. And blood red roses. Sometimes I think with some bemusement her roses have thorns. At other times, I associate her with the wild, pink primroses that bloom beside that old back porch without a bit of tending.

She is a fine seamstress and an excellent cook. She is musical and loves music. She is considered thrifty but penny pincher is a better term. One of her favorite sayings is: it is too late to tighten your belt if you've already lost your pants. She has always been a pro-active sort... with an in-your-face attitude. She did not, does not share the wisdom of her years in a passive manner. She is aggressive, demanding and controlling. She can be abusive. She loves a good squabble. She says what she thinks with little regard for good manners or even a modicum of discretion.

This Grand Mother did not teach by example, she taught by hard rule, intimidation and the threat of a pecan switch. Sit up straight, chew with your mouth closed, ladies do not cross their legs to put on socks, don't say anything if you can't say anything nice, get your nose out of that book, stay away from the tracks and the folk who live down there, do as I say and do it now, and do not under any circumstances smart off and talk back. No mumbling was allowed. If you had something to say, and you had the guts to say it -- she would hear it said loudly and plainly.

On the other hand, no grandchild ever had a bigger champion. She was/is an excellent co-conspirator who delights in flaunting rules set down by parents. This Grand Mother saw a veritable genius, musician, doctor, lawyer -- a shining star in all of us. She demanded that each of us strive to reach our full potential.

She has a keen sense of humor, was/is a fun-loving spirit and often her take on things (especially politics) is downright hilarious. No child in need was ever turned from her door. If she had what you needed or could get it -- she did. She may have ruled the roost with a loud cackle and disagreeable demeanor but there was never any doubt in my mind that she loved me, cared deeply about me and would do anything for me. Even now.

My Mother is Grand Mother's oldest child, I am the oldest grandchild, my daughter is the great baby or the oldest great grandchild and her son is the oldest great, great grandchild. We are five generations. When the Great Grand Mother was living and before the great, great grandson was born -- we were five generations of Women. Being the First of the First and the Mother and Grand Mother of the First of the First allows me a certain peculiarly elevated status in her mind.

I have always been very close and shared a special bond with this Grand Mother. I spent many long summers and Christmas vacations in her company. Even after I became an adult, with the responsibility of my own family -- we stayed close, spent time on the weekends and I made certain I was present for birthdays and other occasions, even non-occasions so dear to an old lady's heart. We still talk by telephone on a regular basis.

Despite what could be misunderstood as disparaging opening comments about this Woman, believe me when I say, I love and care deeply for her. She was and is a positive influence in my life, especially during my formative years. She taught me to speak up for myself and take matters into my own hands. She taught me I am in sole control of my destiny and to never consider myself a victim of circumstances.

Sadly, because Grand Mother is so cantankerous, her later years have been dull and lonely. All the people she knew and loved and related to on a daily basis preceded her in death years ago. The family stopped coming to visit. The family stopped calling. Few members of the family are hale and hearty enough to withstand her waspish ways. It is hard not to take the things she says personally, because often, her attacks are hurtful. With few exceptions (I might be one of them); nothing or no one pleases her for long.

What most do not understand is we, her family, are as much a part of the problem as she is. How agreeable would you be, if you were a 94 year old lady, who has given your life to the care of your family - if you found yourself sitting alone all day, every day? Shunned. Neglected. Forgotten. Is there any other way to see it? So many live so close and do so little. It is deplorable. Few understand that what Grand Mother needs is interaction. Her mind is still active and requires real, engaging conversation. She is the type of person who thrives on debate. And, she needs someone to listen.

The friend in her seventies that I spoke of earlier told me recently that she encountered a similar issue with her own Mother. She felt her Mother was sharing all sorts of nonsensical and trivial information with her about obscure relatives and past events and finally asked her why she felt compelled to do so. Her Mother simply replied that she had no one else to tell it to. The friend realized that when an old person speaks of the past, often repeating a certain episode over and over, they are really trying to make sense of their life. They are trying to validate their existence, and perhaps resolve their reason for being. The friend resolved to become better at listening. Ditto.

Grand Mother, without this interaction, without someone to exchange ideas and information, without someone to do the listening has withdrawn to a world of shadows and memories. She has grown bitter, distant and reclusive.

My aunt, who rarely visits or calls her own Mother, and often is resentful when she does visit, said to me once that she didn't like to stay too long with Grand Mother because and I quote, "All she talks about is dead people."

My exasperated response to that asinine comment was as follows: Dead people! Well, I am thinking if she had more live people in her life on a daily basis she'd have more than dead people to talk about! And just for the record, which dead people do you not want to hear about? Your Father? Your Grand Mother? The Aunts? The Uncles? Your recently departed Sister?

I recently reminded the family to no avail of one simple thing:

I am only one, but I am still one. I cannot do everything, but still I can do something. And because I cannot do everything I will not refuse to do the something that I can do. -- Helen Keller

The something that I can do is as simple as expressing love and interest. Apparently, that is asking too much.

Over the past few years, I have lived far from my roots. Upon each successive visit home I have been able to mark Grand Mother's unwholesome decline. I have born witness to a Woman on the edge of nowhere. She simply does not exist except in the ghost lands of her memories.

Yes, this Woman is haunted. Her house is haunted. The sound of laughter and the living have departed her space. What must it be like to sit and court the shadows of darkness, contemplate the inevitable and wait and wait and wait…?

I have witnessed my Grand Mother's transformation into the ill-favored stereotype Crone; I have witnessed her persecution as a Witch, so to speak. She is no longer a viable individual. Like so many centuries of Old Women -- she is ultimately and horribly -- dispensable.

Her Womanly Wisdom, the sum total of her person, is but kindling on a funeral pyre of regret and disillusionment.

I have been told that such is just the way of things, but it is in my nature to challenge the status quo. And, by so doing, I will have learned much from this Grand Mother after all.

Perhaps I may avoid some of the pitfalls of aging, perhaps not rely on the questionable devotion of family, perhaps value the friendships I have and strive to maintain them, perhaps make myself useful in ways I have never thought of before, and perhaps be more creative, more spontaneous, and more adventurous.

[I] ...will not become invisible, trivialized, or shamed by a society obsessed with youth and terrified of aging. -- Bower

I will own my age and strive to make these the best years of my life. I will accept my physical limitations to some extent but I vow to test them often. I will explore new realms with mind and heart. I will trust in the power of intuition. I will remember that life is miracle and magic. I will acknowledge and accept that I cannot be another person's conscience but continue to believe that what we send out in the world comes back to us in full measure.

... and my greatest ritual is love itself. -- Garrison

Finally, I will remember to love and allow myself to be loved.

As I light the candle of remembrance this year -- I will call the spirits of my Beloved Grand Mothers and ask that they bring what comfort they can to the Grand Mother who is still in the land of the living. Perhaps they can also provide patience to those who care for her.

If we are to be well, we must care for ourselves. We must not cast the Old Woman out, but become her more abundantly. -- Germaine Greer

Brightest Blessings to You and Yours
this Hallowe'en 2004
and Cheerful Greetings to Grand Mother Crones Everywhere!

Respectfully yours in caliginous chaos
An it harm none – do as you will…
Octoberwych
© 2004 (text revised 2018) All rights reserved

Friday, October 31, 2003

Hallowe'en Rant 2003

HALLOWE'EN 2003

from a mostly Pagan and
respectfully irreverent perspective...

How is your metaphorical garden growing?
Have you tended your plot?
What will be your final harvest?
-- Barbara Ardinger --

Are we prepared? In this month that marks the beginning of the Dark Season we are concerned with both the end of things and the beginning I think. We are concerned with celebrating the bounty of the harvest but also the care of the fields for the future.

So it goes with Life - human life. If we tend our garden well in this life -- we are prepared, when the time comes, for passage to our next plane of existence.

I have thought much upon this theme lately, having recently lost a beloved Aunt who succumbed finally, after a long and hard fought battle with a terminal illness. Many people asked my Mother and Grandmother and her Daughters -- "You are prepared, aren't you?" Anyone with a modicum of compassion should know -- even if the answer to such a thoughtless query is the precursory Yes -- the reality is No.

Oddly enough, never once did I hear someone comment on whether my Aunt was prepared...

So, I am here to answer that question for my own peace of mind. I am firmly convinced that She was prepared. I say that not because her departure and subsequent events were planned -- because they were not. No physical preparations were made in advance by herself or her family. The Aunt's wishes were known, the Aunt simply trusted her daughters to see it done. And that was enough. No one wasted precious time on the grim inevitability of the matter. No one seemed to fret over mindless trivialities of things that were not done. The focus remained on living, the here and now and every golden moment was tended as if it would last forever. I believe that is as it should be.

No, I am talking about the preparations the Aunt made by the graceful example of her life. I am talking about how She focused on living her life well and with joy, teaching her daughters and grandchildren and great grandchildren how to live purposeful, caring, responsible lives. I am talking about her selfless capacity to share herself with family and friends... I am talking about how She kept her mother close in kind regard. And how She clutched each sister to her heart and knew each one for herself - loving all without reservation. She was a faithful wife, a true friend and cherished because of it.

I am talking about her metaphorical garden.

A garden nurtured with careful thought and prudent planning.
How it thrives! How it blooms!
What a magnificent yield!
Her Legacy will live on in the fruit of her labor.
Her Tradition will survive by the will of her prodigious offspring.
What lay within my Aunt's heart was the genuine soul of her being.

What lies behind us and what lies before us
are tiny matters compared to what lies within us.
-- Ralph Waldo Emerson --

One aspect of this day called Hallowe'en is a time of joy for me. Samhain, the other aspect of the day is a time of spiritual reflection. I also consider it a time of healing. The Aunt has joined the ranks of many beloved to me who now walk beyond the veil of this reality - my reality. She is in good company. I will welcome her along with the others this Samhain with a special candle whose light I expect will burn soft and pure. I will remember her smile, the twinkle in her eye, the sound of her laughter and the scent of her presence. She will be yet another familiar and comforting light in the gathering gloom of evening.

Merry and Well We Will Meet Again Dear Aunt!

Dark as my thoughts seem of late, they cannot stay that way long at this time of year. As I said, this season brings me joy. I love the crisp feel of the air, the tumble of leaves with the slightest breeze and the sound of them skittering down the street. I love the riot of colors and myriad shapes of them in the landscape and littering the lawn. I love the pumpkins glowing in messy pyramid stacks at the farmer's market and illuminating doorsteps up and down the streets.

I love haunted houses and haunted yards. I love making scarecrows and witches and spooks. My yard looks like some kind of a Gothic Flea Market and I love it -- love it -- love it. My neighbors may be a bit frightened by the scope of it I think which makes me smile. This year it is decorated with large silhouette pieces of yard art produced by my folks and carried over a thousand miles a few weeks ago. Thanks Mom and Dad! This display is very important to me because of its origins... and so it goes with much of the paraphernalia scattered about the house and grounds. Each piece carries a memory of where or from whom it came and each memory is given its due as I bustle about the place -- spooking it up.

I love the site of colorful costuming in all shapes and sizes lining the discount store racks. I get a kick out of kids (of all ages) planning who they will be for the grand masquerade. And what would Hallowe'en be without the wondrous variety of imported nonsense in the form of toys and games and cheesy holiday decor? I love getting pictures of the grandkids visiting pumpkin patches. I love it that my daughter gets that I love it and humors me with dozens of digital photos. I love spooky stories and classic horror movies and those corny Hallowe'en tunes like The Monster Mash and The Flying Purple People Eater.

Believe it or not, colossal Hallowe'en nut that I am -- I write this diatribe with a Jack-o-Lantern glowing at my side, a spiral of Patchouli incense wafting overhead... Hallowe'en is not just a day on the calendar for me - it is a state of mind - maybe a bit lunartic (translates to the ravings of a full moon loving lunatic).

So, there you have it, my musing for the year - such as it is.

I will greet the thirty first of October with respectful reverence and finish it with unabashed revelry.

With Hallowe'en/Samhain forever blended in colorful chaos in my head...
I bid you Bright and Joyful Blessings...
May you tend your garden well my friends...

Respectfully yours in caliginous chaos
An it harm none – do as you will…
Octoberwych
© 2003 (text revised 2018) All rights reserved

Thursday, October 31, 2002

Hallowe'en Rant 2002

HALLOWE'EN 2002

from a mostly Pagan
and respectfully irreverent perspective...

Witchery -- to some the word conjures images of mystery and power;
others simply embrace it in the beautiful yet ordinary trappings of daily life.
More simply, witchery implies recognition of magical power in our lives.
Magic is everywhere.
It arises in the passage of a book that evokes emotion,
in the aroma that revives long-forgotten memories,
in certain qualities of light and color.
All these bring magic to our lives by altering our perception.
-- Kerry Cudmore 10/2002, The Witches' Quarterly --

Ev'ry W'man has a lil' Witch in 'er...

Thus spoke my Maternal Great Grandmother...

It was many years ago, in my Grandmother's kitchen one sultry, late summer afternoon when the air was thick with the odor of thyme and sage wafting over a pot of chicken and dumplings simmering on the stove, where steam hovered like a specter on still air, where flies buzzed monotonously around the back screen door, where iridescent beads of condensation ran down the white granite pitcher and dime store ice tea glasses in little rivers pooling silently on the table, where I sat quietly sipping heavily sugared ice tea and listening to the prattle of the Old Women gathered there.

Old Women with short, permed haircuts in cotton print dresses.
Old Women with a fine sheen of perspiration under their noses.
Old Women with time-lined, care-worn, bright-eyed faces.
Old Women with gnarled hands, stiff joints and swollen ankles.
Old Women housed in stout bodies plump with life.

It was one of my favorite things to do when I spent the last few days of summer with my Grandmothers. I would sit quietly and listen... virtually invisible... which is why I was tolerated in their circle, I think. I listened intently while my Great Grandmother, my Grandmother, my Great Aunt and assorted other Old Women relatives and Old Women friends talked freely and seemingly non-stop of Women's concerns - of children and other relatives and assorted town folk and menfolk whose hi-jinx made them worthy of kitchen table discussion in Little Town Texas.

They talked about Life.
They cried about Life.
They laughed about Life.

They spoke about Life with respectful reverence.

Life's Woes...
Life's Joys...
Life's Little Moments of Wonder...

They talked about their children and grandchildren - their successes, their failures, their marriages, their divorces. They talked about births and deaths. They talked about gardens and flowers, the planting of things, the harvest, the cost of bread or a length of cloth. They talked about cooking this or that delectable dish in simple southern kitchens where home-grown, home canned and made-from-scratch meant something - something good and wholesome. They talked about sickness and how to cure it. They talked about health in a manner that indicated their own well-being was secondary to the health of those in their charge. They meant it. Health was something one was grateful to have in one's old age. They entered into good-natured debate over the best cures for this or that ailment, sharing and disseminating information gathered from who knows what source or experience - you know, the proverbial Old Wives Tale cures. They swore by the time-worn remedies that did not come over-the-counter from a drug store for a baby's colic, fevers, headaches, rheumatism, shingles, and grouchy stomachs. They discussed how, interestingly enough, to tell the sex of a child by the way a woman carried it. As far as I know. My Great Grandmother never missed naming the sex of a child.

I was, very simply - eavesdropping in on Life.

Life's Magic.
Life's Mysteries.
Life's Music.

Yes, it was Life's music - a music which thrummed about the table and filled the kitchen in a crescendo of layer upon layer harmony plucked from the instruments of Old Women's soft tears, quiet sighs and cackling laughter.

In ancient times or olden days as my Great Grandmother would say, knowledge and tradition was passed on from generation to generation by literally speaking the words over and over - by communicating the Craft of Life - the pragmatic rules of simple survival - to the next generation. It is known as Oral Tradition.

Modern day, self-proclaimed Witches say this is how they learned their Craft. Traditional Witchcraft they call it, and perhaps it is, but if it is, then it was spun around a kitchen table much like the one which sits to this very day in my Grandmother's warm century old home.

This fundamental piece of furniture, the kitchen table was adorned not with the accouterments of magic one would expect but with the rudimentary accouterments of life - salt and pepper, honey and sorghum and sugar, wildflowers poking helter-skelter out of a brown glass pill bottle picked by grubby, childish hands.

Ev'ry W'man has a lil' Witch in 'er...

I do not remember what prompted it, but I do remember that statement fell impertinently on my little ears. I remember the moment of stunned silence as the congregation of Old Women mulled this over in their minds. Witches were they? Then I remember their sudden, united chuckle that erupted into wild, uninhibited laughter - every one smiling and nodding soulfully at the other as that conspiratorial Old Woman's look passed between them, glances which welcomed and embraced the idea of Witchery in their midst.

Witches we are then - they seem to agree - So Be It!

Little did I know as I sat with elbows akimbo on the table and legs swinging to and fro, sticking uncomfortably to the vinyl of the chair that summer afternoon - listening, that they, the Old Women were passing on their own tradition, their own Craft, their own brand of homespun knowledge and experience - to me. I, in turn was absorbing their Old Woman mysteries like a sponge. I was being indoctrinated into their Craft.

This was my induction into The Craft of Womanhood whose business is the Craft of Life and sometimes Death, but always it is the business of Renewal. I say it again Women's business is The Craft of Tradition and Witchery, Mystery and Magic.

Ev'ry W'man has a lil' Witch in 'er...
Every Woman is a Witch.
I believed it then. I believe it now.

I believe every Woman has the capacity to tune in to the great mystery. Life. I believe every Woman is a part of that great mystery in and of herself. I believe every Woman has the power of intuition. I believe every woman is a psychic of some degree depending upon her willingness to focus on and accept matters that may lie just outside what is considered the realm of possibility. I believe every Woman has the courage to direct her life in a positive manner and affect the lives of those in her charge in like manner. I believe Women survive despite the demons that lie in wait along the path set before them and despite those disparate creatures that sneak up from behind. I believe Women are the original vanquishers of evil.

I believe Women possess the tools to break beyond the boundaries of the mundane and the ability to embrace with a whole heart that which is cast off or deemed unworthy by others. I believe Women are a storehouse of knowledge - not book knowledge but life knowledge. I believe Women reinvent themselves with each new generation and that Womanhood is a never-ending cycle of evolution toward something more pure, more beautiful and more enlightened, that we are all contributors to something great and vast and powerful which will reveal itself as the best of ourselves - in a better time - a future place.

...I have to digress and interject here that I don't necessarily think that Witchery is gender specific. Men are quite capable of great intuitive powers and extraordinary feats of wisdom and magic but Women own a part in the great scheme of things that is exclusively their own territory and it is with Women that this discourse is concerned.

As I walk my own path I find that a look over my shoulder every now and then does the soul good. It is easy to stay grounded in this life if you remember from whence you came. So, that is what I do come every Samhain (Hallowe'en). By remembering the ones (both living and departed) who have come before me - my Womenfolk, Grandmothers, Aunts, Mothers, Sisters, and Women friends I find the courage to carry on. Thus grounded, I can focus upon those who have and will come after me - Daughters and Granddaughters. We are all Maiden - Mother - Crone in our own season and in accordance with our own will and purpose. We will be remembered by those with whom we have shared our lives and who have partaken of our traditions -- our Craft.

Yes, I remember well and most fondly those Old Women gathered around the kitchen table, the ones for whom Witchery was merely a stamp on the validity of their fruitful and purposeful lives. It was a brief glimmer of the true purpose behind their never-ending toil in the mundane world - a world that often treats Old Women as if they are truly Witches.

I am grateful for those Old Women - their ever guiding presence in my life, for their gifts of magic and mystery, tradition and witchery, for their sense of mischief and good humor. And I am thankful for the memory of their Women's Witchy laughter ringing in my head like it was yesterday...a recollection that has me smiling, even now...

So, here I respectfully offer:
Bright Blessings
To Old Women
Witches One and All
Blessed Be!

Respectfully yours in caliginous chaos
An it harm none – do as you will…
Octoberwych
© 2002 (text revised 2018) All rights reserved

Wednesday, October 31, 2001

Hallowe'en Rant 2001

HALLOWE'EN 2001
Just for the record: I have not written a rant for Halloween 2001

Like the rest of the nation and perhaps the world my thoughts are focused elsewhere and filled with the tragic images and events of

September 11, 2001

May we respectfully remember those lost to us...
May we show our support to
the families and friends
and especially the children
who have lost so much...
May we gain strength and inspiration
from their bravery and courage and sacrifice...
~~~
May we stand tall and strong and determined
to face the challenges which lay before us...
in the American Way...
with truth and fairness as our guide.
May we nurture her strengths
and strengthen her weaknesses so that
she will always be a
Land of the Free
and
Home of the Brave.
-- John Wayne --
May we all strive to be the best Americans ...

Peace and Joy Be With You
This Halloween Season 2001
Blessed Be!

© 2001 all rights reserved

Tuesday, October 31, 2000

Hallowe'en Rant 2000

HALLOWE'EN 2000

A Much Maligned Holiday
From a mostly pagan
and respectfully irreverent perspective...

This starry night no spectre shows,
No magic flame of bonfire glows;
But all around I feel them close
In ghostly company.
From Night in New Forest by Doreen Valiente

Shall we begin?

I usually try to avoid the influence of pop culture when I consider a topic but since I do not live life with my head buried in the sand that is near impossible. One evening recently I settled down to watch the Hallowe'en episode of the WB2 TV show Charmed (you know the one, with the three lovely sisters who are Witches with amazing magic powers) which, I might add, I find a bit light weight but about as entertaining as anything else on TV these days. By the way, I do not tune in to shows like this to analyze their authenticity or search for misrepresentations in the subject matter - I do not understand why anyone would demand that much from a commercially motivated media.

Anyway, at the onset of this particular episode there was a modest attempt to banish the stereotype of the Hallowe'en Witch as intolerable. A statement I can only assume was aimed at appeasing any modern day Neo-Pagans, Witches and Wiccan communities who might be tuning in. I am not sure it fully satisfied this agenda because by the end of the episode the Charmed Ones had whole heartedly embraced the stereotype, even succumbing to the temptation to fly around on a besom/broom with one of the beauties silhouetted against a full moon. Oh me!

I recognized the quandary presented though, because I am all too familiar with it. It has been brought to my attention that this web site (The Wyching Well - now the October Country USA blog) should be all-of-this or none-of-that depending with whom I am talking rather than just an exercise for my imagination and an amusing past-time. How do you gracefully represent Hallowe'en as a cheerful celebration without offending those who consider it a religious or at the very least, serious occasion? And if you cater solely to the serious aspect of the day you run the risk of annoying those who are simply present for the goodies and fun.

Hmmm... It is not as easy as it sounds. Is it? Today, it is really hard to be conscientious (without resorting to the horror of political correctness) and still be able to enjoy just being yourself. I am not sure why we bother (most of the time I do not) but sure as we did not - there would be someone here front-and-center pointing a finger at you and me saying, "I find this or that offensive!"

Moving along now... that's another rant...

I think the answer lies in whether or not you (the official, fully costumed Hallowe'en nut case) can embrace Hallowe'en (the orange and black, sugar-coated American holiday) with all the stereotypes and not give a hoot whether the Neo-Pagans or Wiccans or modern day Witches are chanting and dancing around a bonfire.

Or, whether you, the Neo-Pagan/Wiccan/Witch can attend to the business of Samhain (end of summer) celebrations without feeling guilty about not getting up in the middle of ritual to trick-or-treat the small invasion of neighborhood kids who are certain to label you a Grinch Witch or worse if you do not turn on your porch light at least for little while.

And, I always wonder about those of you out there who are simply going through the motions, who do not care one way or the other about Hallowe'en except that it costs you a couple of bags of candy and at least a small amount of space on the editorial pages of the newspaper (with people debating the pros and cons) for a few days.

I think the reason difficulties arise when commercial realism and spiritual ideologies -- like Hallowe'en vs. Samhain -- clash is that folks most often tend to take themselves and their beliefs and so it follows, their holidays, a bit too seriously. We DO take our holidays seriously in the USA or at least the time off allotted for them. Don't we?

However, on October 31 you get fireworks times three when the forces who observe this day for various reasons clash...

And these groups are:
1) those who love the commercial elements and celebrate Hallowe'en for the pure, childlike fun of it
2) those who are spiritually inclined and observe the day as Samhain, the Witches New Year
and
3) those others aka BT/Bible Thumpers who simply cannot resist meddling in order to promote their own agenda whatever that may be.

When you factor in this third combustible element (BT), then you really are stirring a whole new batch of worms into the pot. The result of this volatile Witches Brew is a specifically nasty brand of intolerance - especially when holidays for different factions, unfortunately, coincide with one another, for instance, when Hallowe'en/Samhain falls on Sunday.

What I find particularly amusing in this scenario is that you have those who celebrate Samhain at odds with those who celebrate Hallowe'en. Why? Because, I am told (by Pagans), Hallowe'en perpetuates and promotes the negative aspects of the day and casts a big black shadow over Samhain. Aspects, that the third element, the Bible Thumpers, assign to the holiday including its cast of stereotyped characters. So, you have modern day Witches getting angry at Trick-or-Treaters over being portrayed as evil, ugly hags - a mythos derived from the puritanical ranting of the third element involved.

Trick-or-Treaters get a bad rap
from modern day Witches who get a bad rap
from Bible Thumpers
who will not tolerate Trick-or-Treaters or Witches
who have a low tolerance for Bible Thumpers
and so on...

Talk about a vicious circle! Holy Widdershins!

So, what do you do when you find your spiritual occasion or holiday butting heads with another of equal importance which happens all too often in the USA? I mean Hallowe'en isn't any more about Samhain and modern day Witches than Santa Claus is about the birth of the Christ Child aka Christmas. You either celebrate one or the other or somehow magically combine the mysteries to accommodate the whole in America. It is just how it is done. So out goes the lighted plastic baby Jesus figurine in the front yard next to Santa and Frosty. No big deal - right? One might go crazy trying to disassociate from one to focus on the other.

Hallowe'en Witches vs. Pagan/Wiccan Witches, now there's a toughie! How do you separate the two in your mind or to their satisfaction? Well, here's a thought that may be perceived by some as an over-simplified answer.

One is fiction. One is not.
'Nuff said...

Or is it enough? Let us pretend for a moment that you are really informed and well-read on the subject. When you picture authors and self-proclaimed Witches -- Margot Adler, Starhawk, Janet Farrar, Silver Ravenwolf, Doreen Valiente or even the guys Scott Cunningham or Isaac Bonewits - what do you see? Real people? Professional people who could be your neighbors? Or do you see a toothless, wart-ridden hag on a broom and a scruffy bearded guy in a dress and pointy hat?

When someone mentions Witches do you envision the trio from Charmed or the trio from Disney's Hocus-Pocus? What answer one comes up with here is most likely based solely on one's experience and familiarity with the subject and that, in most cases, is directly related to one's exposure to current trends and pop culture - isn't it?

These pesky folk who allegedly perceive modern day Witches as evil because of dime store Hallowe'en stereotypes and Hollywood hype would have to be clueless wouldn't they? I think it is more likely and far more insulting that regular folk simply dismiss modern day Witches as a bit wacky and don't bother themselves beyond that. Now some take offense to not being taken seriously and granted, this particular problem becomes a very real problem when confronted by modern day Witches on their jobs and in other aspects of their lives. But, as with most things - education is the key - isn't it?

Then, there is the problem of that 3rd element again, poking around where (in my humble opinion) they do not belong and basically using Hallowe'en as a soap box. This faction refuses to be educated. Bible Thumpers are all too prevalent this time of year, using the media and other forms of hype to distribute their prejudicial propaganda that Hallowe'en/Samhain and anyone who celebrates it is evil with a capital E.

At no other time of the year do you get bombarded with good vs. evil rhetoric as at Hallowe'en. (Heads up folks! Witches do celebrate other holidays you know.) You do not hear BT's attack the iconic images of the Easter Bunny or Santa Claus, do you? Are they up in arms at the Summer Solstice, a celebration that for Pagans is equal in importance to Samhain?

So why I ask - pick on the Great Pumpkin?

In my opinion, because of the immensely popular imagery - it is a thinly veiled autocratic (not to mention lucrative) and opportunistic attempt to attack other religions and/or other spiritual paths that exist outside the mainstream fundamentalist agenda. So what else is new?

We, of the -- collective Witch mind -- can take a little comfort in being the proverbial thorn in their backsides... though, can we not? As long as they are thumpin' them Bibles...

We know
They know
We are not going away.

I remember once-upon-a-time when church sponsored haunted houses complete with ghoulish preachers and sinister nuns did not use the occasion to capitalize on fundamentalist political agendas about the perceived evils in this world. There were no Hell Houses using in-your-face political-oriented anti-abortion, anti-gay, anti-death penalty, anti-witch scenarios as their main focus rather than the fiction of ghouls and vampires, Witches and spooks - Oh My! I find this particular tactic extremely distasteful. I object to the insinuation that Hallowe'en even in the abstract is somehow related to the ills of the world.

I, for one - as with many other holidays embrace combined aspects of Hallowe'en/Samhain and completely ignore the neurotic ravings of the third element. Shoo! BT! Shoo!

With that said, I love the Trick-or-Treaters! I love the stereotypes! Pumpkins turned Jack-O'-Lanterns! Ghosts! Assorted Monsters and Wickedly Grinning Witches! I do not try to separate the two - it is impossible! With a little careful planning you can squeeze both the fun aspects as well as the spiritual into the day. I grew up loving this time of year - the sights, the sounds, and the smell of it. The stories! The masquerade!

I never really grew out of Hallowe'en. Rather, I believe I have grown into it. Someone told me you are supposed to get over it, but I never did. And then, I found Samhain which explains the spiritual side of the occasion that I could never put a name to before. When all of it finally came together, I realized that I was more at home in a Punkin' Patch than any other place in the world.

It is true, so now it is Hallowe'en at my house all the time - at least in the basement room (Gramma's Witch dungeon as my grandson calls it - HA!) from which I work. It is where I sit typing this lunatic missive. The decor of the room is Witch Provincial. I have lost count of the pieces in the Witch collection accented with a growing population of Jack O' Lanterns, Ouija boards and tons of metaphysical books and Witch stories and other spooky elements that would be enough to set Martha Stewart on her ear (fortunately I am immune to the MS bug). Yep! I am right at home and downright comfortable in this gauche Witchy atmosphere. It suits me.

With that said, the point of the matter and the rather abrubt end to this diatribe is if celebrating the duality of the season means that I have "embraced" the stereotype, then I say…

SO-BE-IT!

Sunday, October 31, 1999

Hallowe'en Rant 1999

Halloween 1999

from a mostly Pagan
and respectfully irreverent perspective...

On a personal note:

As a child of the season, a child of late October...

Lying on the lawn still warm from the late summer sun, searching the skies for the appearance of the constellation Scorpio I awaited with eager anticipation the onset of Autumn which signaled the impending arrival of my late October birthday, the Fall school carnival and yes, Hallowe'en.

It thrilled me to see those first few fallen leaves skittering down the windy street. And after a hot Texas summer, that first blast of chill Autumn air was all the more welcome. Nose pressed against my window, I wondered at the glow of the full Harvest moon seeming to hang just out of my reach and kept watch for the first sign that old Jack Frost had kissed the pumpkins.

I looked up the date of the Autumn Equinox in my Grandmother's Farmer's Almanac every year, puzzling over the curious symbols and trying to decipher their mystery.

HALLOWEEN - I loved the sights, the colors, the sounds, the smells, the stories, oh just the very feel of it!

HALLOWE'EN!

The leaves have burned to gold and red
the grass is brown, the old year dead,
But hang the harvest high, Oh see!
The candle constellations on the Halloween Tree!
from The Hallowe’en Tree – Ray Bradbury

This one night in all the year belonged to me, I thought, as I skipped down dusty suburban streets in some gaudy, dime store costume and mask, little brother and two bags of candy in tow. Those are good memories.

I am not ashamed to say, I totally identified with Linus in the pumpkin patch. I believed it Charlie Brown!!! I loved the idea of the Great Pumpkin!

Since the position did not seem to be taken, I imagined I was the Witch of the South. Glenda was my Auntie from the North. I became the Pumpkin Queen of trick or treat. That's it! The Punkin' Queen of Hallowe'en! Little did I know that one day I would grow up to be the Pumpkin Witch of Hallowe'en and here I am! Punkinwych! Or, as I am known these days – Octoberwych.

Hallowe'en belonged to me! I owned it! And yes, I still do.

It was much later in life that I became aware of some of the other connotations assigned to the tradition of Hallowe'en. Such connotations led to my ongoing exploration of associated myths, legends and history about Hallowe'en, research initially conducted to prove or disprove religious claims from certain well-meaning Bible Thumpers of my acquaintance. Oh yes, these good folk were hell-bent on changing my wicked ways, determined to convince me that Hallowe'en and all its trappings was evil incarnate.

The celebration of Hallowe'en, I was told, as I made a trick-or-treat costume and plans for my very young daughter would lead to the ultimate downfall of our society. Perversion of the innocent would somehow mysteriously evolve through the immoral practice of mummery aka trick-or-treating.

Excuse me? Did I miss something? Somehow I failed to visualize how dressing up in a bed sheet, running through the streets one night a year, getting candy from kindly neighbors and visiting the church-sponsored spook house translated into devil worship and eternal damnation for me or my child, bless my skeptical, soon-not-to-be a Southern Baptist soul.

Yes, I said church-sponsored spook house… I remember them well - complete with vampire preachers, Sunday school teachers turned witches stirring steaming cauldrons and church elders parading as bloody headless ghosts. What Haunted Hypocrisy! Mind you this was before the era of politically correct perversion that has overtaken church-sponsored anti-Hallowe'en events these days.

It was about this time in my life, that the ever constant pressure from the patriarchal, dogmatic rule-of-thumb began to grate seriously upon my nerves. Never one to succumb to blind faith and being fairly confidant in my ability to digest and disseminate information on my own, I set out on a mission to dispel the evil attributed to the myth of Hallowe'en.

All I can say at this juncture is how little did I know! After a while, I became ever more positive I did not require translation of an enormous amount of information from another source. In other words, I came to the conclusion that I did not need someone to tell me what to think or believe. Imagine that! The concept of the freedom to own my own beliefs finally came home to me...

So far, and it has been a good thirty years since I began my research, I have not found a shred of evidence to change my mind about Hallowe'en. I have, however, found a good many reasons to disassociate myself from those who hysterically perpetuate the myth that Hallowe'en is evil or harmful in any way. Yep! Debunking the silly notions that pervade the Hallowe'en myth is what ultimately led me to embrace a spiritual path and way of life very foreign from my up-bringing.

So! There is kindling for your fire, Witch Hunters... Hallowe'en did indeed lead me astray... led my wicked little soul straight down the garden path to the pumpkin patch that I call home sweet home.

All rants aside, as I have said before, I do celebrate Hallowe'en with a whole heart... not as a Pagan or a Witch (I have been called both) as one would assume but, as one who simply loves the season well. If I must be labeled such, because of my affinity for this time of year I say - So-Be-It.

I start decorating around the time of the Autumn/Fall Equinox which is on or about September 22, rearranging my collection of wickedly grinning Witches and Jack-o'-Lanterns, a good many of which stay out all year.

I take special delight being outdoors at this time of year just breathing in the sights and sounds and smells of the changing season with Fall foliage drives, harvest festivals, corn mazes, mountain hikes and twilight walks that take me kicking through leaves and bathing in the soft light of the newly risen moon. And I bring some of nature's blessings indoors with me in the form of leaves and holly berries, apples, nuts, Indian corn, gourds and (my personal favorite - or hadn't you guessed?) PUMPKINS of all shapes and sizes.

And I read my old favorites again... Bradbury's, The Hallowe'en Tree and Something Wicked This Way Comes, Irving's The Legend of Sleepy Hollow just to name a few. I usually tune in to It's the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown on TV - still one of my all-time favorites. It puts me in a jolly humor.

It makes sense to me to honor the dead on this day. Perhaps it is nothing more than my willingness to share my joy in the season. I guess you could say I view it as kind of a Pagan Day of the Dead or Memorial Day. It is a three day event, celebrated as The Day of the Dead in Mexico and parts of Texas, New Mexico and Arizona.

But, I have my own way to show reverence to the dead that is probably a compilation of customs. Sometimes I set a place at the dinner table for those loved ones who have gone on before me. I light a candle in grandmother's old teacup. I place it before a picture of my grandpas and mementos from a few beloved others. The first pumpkin I buy every year is Grandpa's pumpkin. I wind great grandmother's music box and I think about her/them. I don't just go through the motions of ritual. I really think about them. I summon their spirits and bask in the warmth of their loving presence. I feel them. I cherish each happy memory as they come rushing in upon me. It's a kind of one-on-one seance, if you will.

The point is not the ritual at all, you see - it is the purpose. I refuse to believe that honoring the memory of those beloved to me is anything but a perfect example of my love and trust in them, in death as in life. If a strange entity should appear from beyond the veil between the worlds and none ever have, then I will assume it is for a very good reason and choose to learn from the experience. There, you have it! If the practice of communing with the Dead be they known or unknown to me, who walk beyond the veil of our physical reality is evil… then, I say again SO-BE-IT!

If it means anything; I go through a similar ritual on the birthdays and death days of those departed ones beloved to me, as well. In fact; I did all of these things long before I realized they were considered Pagan rituals. How considerate of a Christian to point it out to me. Frankly, I don't see the difference between lighting a candle for my departed loved ones on the coffee table and lighting one in a chapel. Do you?

That a New Year should follow the final harvest of the year makes perfect sense to me. Actually Hallowe'en (aka Samhain - the end of summer) falls between the Autumn Equinox and the Winter Solstice. Known as a dark time, when what was fertile lies dormant for a time... it is clear that it is a time of transition.

So the wheel of the year turns, for people as well as the earth. People have happily celebrated the change of the seasons since time began, I imagine. It does not require a historian to confirm that. Think about it. We all celebrate the change of seasons whether we identify it as doing so or not. In ancient times, they named the seasons, assigned them deities, offered thanks to the Powers-That-Be under the stars and danced around bonfires under an open sky in a celebration of birth and death and life's renewal. We are really not so very far removed from those ancient ones, you know. We still mark the seasons even if we do gauge them by the onset of our favorite sports programming on TV. You know: football season, hockey season, baseball season, basketball season..., etc.

So it is easy to see how those of us; who may be just a little more in tune (mind you, mostly because we choose to be) with how we as humans relate to nature, would see Hallowe'en as descending from an ancient rite simply because of its timing... and while we may not be able to prove it - some of us just know it is a ritual as old as mankind or womankind... not inherent from some man made, over blown and distressingly distorted idea of religion - but a simple statement of the spirituality buried deep within all of us. A spirituality that seeks to communicate to each and every one of us the bond we have with nature and our place in the natural world. What else we are outside of that reality is truly insignificant.

What can it harm to be aware of the cycles of nature? What can it harm to remember we are a part of that magnificent cycle whether we assign it a religious connection or not? And I suppose it would do us all well to remember we are each one a part of the whole no matter how we identify it, view it, or relate to it.

From whence we came... so shall we return...

Whether we like it or not...

So, how does one celebrate The Witches New Year aka Hallowe'en Pagan/Witch-style? A silly question... because the celebration is not validated by its outward trappings - it is a bit more mystical, if you will. Now you are thinking AHA! Gotcha! OK - if it pleases you to think so...

I will share as much as I can...

So, I/We celebrate much the same as anyone with a pulse celebrates any New Year... I start out with a little reverence and proceed to party hearty with people I love in pure unadulterated abandon!

I make the same resolution every year at the dawn of the Pagan/Wiccan New Year, October 31 and I reaffirm it on New Year's Eve, January 31. Every year I resolve to be a better person, more tolerant and helpful to others (this is about as simple as resolving to lose weight, but I do try). I banish all aspects of my character that would hinder this process, like: greed, envy, jealousy, selfishness and the worst - pride by writing them on a piece of paper and burning them, mentally releasing each unfavorable trait as they disappear in smoke and ashes. I resolve to be more in tune with mother earth, nature and my own spirit. I ask for guidance and strength from the old ones to accomplish this task. Change of an unruly nature is a tough order – sometimes. I am a Scorpio. I am told we are sort of head strong and inflexible. Ha! It is a rejuvenating, uplifting experience wherein I feel grounded, balanced, humble and wise, if only for a short time. I resolve to carry this feeling into the New Year.

Next, not always, but sometimes I consult the Tarot for insight into the future. So many people believe that what one sees in the cards (or any tool of divination) is evil and it is unwise to trifle with the unknown. But I say that the unknown is exactly what the cards are about and we see nothing there that is not a reflection of our own true self... our desires, our dreams, our hopes and aspirations.

At dusk, I turn down the lights, fire up the jack-o'-lanterns, set out the goodies, play spooky music and trick-or-treat the neighborhood kids. If I cannot be home - I leave the candy on the porch. Better Treats than Tricks! Sometimes in the past we have had Pagan celebrations disguised as costume parties and wiener/marshmallow roasts. Damn! We are clever are we not? Often we go out for a while, sometimes costumed -- sometimes not, just to be out and about among those who have joined in the revelry. Just to be a part of the night. All Hallows Night.

Before the end of the evening, we usually pop some popcorn, light a fire or all the candles in the house and watch a movie by the glow of a Jack-o'-Lantern. Young Frankenstein has been a Hallowe'en tradition around our house for several years. Sometimes, I read as the Witching Hour approaches. As I retire, usually in the wee hours of the morning I light one small Jack-o'-Lantern reserved on the night stand as our night light to safely guide us to the dawn of the New Year. And I whisper a blessing to the old ones... Just for the sake of reverence... (Whew! Yeah, I know - it is fairly wicked stuff - steeped in occult tradition - certainly not for the uninitiated... and remember don't try this at home folks!)

Finally, and on a somber note, I just have to say - for the life of me I cannot fathom the discomfort some people feel with Hallowe'en. Although, I reckon it could be something akin to the squirmy, itchy, sneezing, coughing thing I experienced while setting on a church pew. Still, while I may have been annoyed (or allergic- I don't know which)... I never once thought about torching the long-winded son-of-a-?? preacher - just wished I had brought a book or a cushion or ear plugs.

Whatever your perspective; when all is said and done, it still does not solve the problem of making claims about Hallowe'en either good or bad without at least admitting to a fair amount of speculation in the matter. Offer your opinion, state your perspective, but, Please! Do not present it as factual unless you have facts the rest of us can be made privy to. If such is the case - please inform me as soon as possible or send me the ISBN number of your forthcoming book.

It is so disconcerting to know that some folks are all too willing to believe the worst of a matter and innocent people without confronting the facts. So I have directed this closing statement to them.

I can deal with your problem concerning my spirituality. Really! But I do not meddle with your holidays - do you think you can afford me the same courtesy? It is OK with me if you and yours do not want to celebrate Hallowe'en, but some of us do. Yes, we tear up and down the streets, dress weird and get a little noisy - some of us may even dance around a bonfire with our sister-friends but, I have never had the urge to stamp out Christmas just because a bunch of carolers park on my doorstep (fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-laaaaa!). And, if you are going to spread propaganda, could you at least make a tiny attempt to get it right and if not that, then at least make folks aware that you are the author of that particular brand of self-righteous BS coming from your high and mighty soap box?

So much said for party poopers… honestly, sometimes I just want to thump 'em between the running lights (my Dad's old term for eyes) and say - Hey! Get a life, will ya? Quit your whining! Exercise your freedom of choice. Turn out the porch light if the little ghosts and goblins scare you and turn up the 6:00 News!

It is only one day! One very short night!

You will survive it... so many have before you...

With that said...

Happy Hallowe'en and Blessed Be!

Joyous Wishes to All Three times Three!

An' it harm none - So Mote It Be!

Saturday, October 31, 1998

Hallowe'en Rant 1998

HALLOWE'EN 1998

A Much Maligned Holiday
from a Mostly Pagan
and Respectfully Irreverent Perspective...

So many self-proclaimed authorities on the subject...
So little time to discredit them...
So? Whadayasay? Let's get to it!

Here witches met in olden time,
Away beyond the church bells' chime,
In worship from the ancient prime
That it was death to know.
from Night in New Forest, Doreen Valiente (1922-1999)

Good ol' Hallowe'en! So many people from all walks of life and a multitude of religious persuasions claim the origin of this overtly Americanized and as it follows, astoundingly lucrative commercial holiday is buried in the mystery-laden mythology of ancient druid, heathen, humanist, polytheistic, even satanic traditions. In other words; Hallowe'en and all that it entails, is the universal, cloven-hoof'd scapegoat of those who claim the woes of today's society can be found in the roots of an ancient evil.

Now, I must admit, while most of the claims or theories put forth about the origins of the allegedly inherent evils of Hallowe'en and the iconic images associated with it are extremely entertaining (I do love a loony conspiracy theory) in truth, there is little hard evidence to support them. In fact, very little of the mythology attributed to the ancient origins of Hallowe'en can be substantiated in f-a-c-t whether your feelings are pro or con - Hallowe'en.

Speculation abounds though – does it not? One has only to type the word Hallowe'en into any search engine on the internet to come across hundreds and hundreds of links to page upon page (yes, including the Wyching Well which has moved to this blog) which indiscriminately expound upon and exhaustingly exploit the subject.

Among them are:

...pages that entertain about Hallowe'en (the ones that thrill us with spooktacular, over-size graphics and stories and down-loads) and then most try to sell us something...

...pages that claim Hallowe'en, is observed only by Satanists, Witches and Vampire cults. I suppose to the unenlightened - Hallowe'en would seem the most appropriate holiday for those dark spirited ones of a decidedly Pagan or Gothic nature. I've never had the opportunity to ask a Goth what activities they pursue on Hallowe'en and if it bears any significance for them... hmmm... perhaps another time... As for Satanists - who knows? And those pesky Pagans and Witches... well; there might be something to that part. Grin!

...pages (mostly fundamentalist Christian) that seem compelled to warn one off even the most harmless celebration of Hallowe'en lest one's immortal soul be lost. Where I ask you? In a bag of lascivious candy? Talk shows would love it... Up Next! I Lost My Soul to a Gummy Bear on Hallowe'en Night...

...pages that attempt to analyze the historical or sociological impact of Hallowe'en upon the masses throughout history (well, grad students & professors have to publish about something right?) It might as well be fun stuff.

...pages of a fundamentalist view that call Hallowe'en sacrilegious and shudder at the very thought of a Day of the Dead, El Dia de los Muertos. I ask you... Did I miss something, or isn't that [memorializing the Dead] what any Memorial Day is about?

...and pages (mostly Pagan) that proclaim Hallowe'en as The Witches New Year, a day to mark the change in the seasons, honor and commune with the dearly departed, the time of the much debated ancient fire festival known as Samhain (end of Summer) and a day deemed sacred among Druids and Pagans, Witches and Wiccans (OK - You got me - If I had to choose, I would pick this one).

Note: Samhain is pronounced (sow-in - Irish) or (sow-een - Welsh) or (sav-en - Scottish) or (sam-hane - American) - especially if you happen to be a southern Pagan from the USA - Howdy Ya'll!

Scores of books and pamphlets have been published on the topic written from every perspective under the sun both pro and con, fact and fiction. I own a good many of them. And, I suppose I would be amiss if I did not at least mention those from-the-foggy-graveyard made-for-TV and mass market appeal specials that air this time every year and seem to perpetuate one unfounded myth after another. Even the History Channel can be caught perpetuating certain myths... They are fun to watch though, are they not? I am always amazed and secretly pleased at our somewhat morbid fascination with the subject and confess I am guilty-guilty-guilty of being a colossal Hallowe'en nut. Certifiable, I am told - always have been - more so in the last few years.

Few, if any self-proclaimed authorities or scholars, (I do not care how many times they pop up with their name and credentials in subtitles on The History Channel), no matter what their angle on the idea of Hallowe'en, actually bother to support their statements with any substantial documentation or; for that matter, valid physical proof that Hallowe'en as we know it and associated elements in any form; other than the most farfetched, can be linked to ancient times, ancient cultures or, more specifically, ancient religions.

Last time I checked, there were no jack-o'-lanterns popping up in archaeological digs, no cave graffiti or petroglyphs of witches on brooms, and no spooky windsocks in ancient crypts. Alas! No magic ruby slippers can be found under houses in Kansas or anywhere! (Pardon a bit of levity - I am having fun with this.)

Now, I agree with the experts that some elements of Hallowe'en celebrations in the USA can be likened to Celtic and Irish celebrations so you history buffs out there don't get your bloomers in a wad just yet - but, the basic anti-Hallowe'en faction claims that this holiday is descended from ancient and evil sacrilegious (meaning anti-Christian) ceremonies of some mysterious long ago cult.

Fundamentalists and other religious alarmist sorts, of course, can be counted on to proselytize the virtue of their own beliefs by spouting the gospel (from cover-to-cover if need be) which allegedly reveals the dreadful true purpose of Hallowe'en that mysteriously lurks in disguise beneath the innocent layers of childhood, costumes, mischievous mayhem and candy.

According to those of a fundamentalist persuasion, their ancient scripture seemingly opposes all things Hallowe'en as if it were indeed - a rival religion... Thereby vindicating (albeit unwittingly) the opposition's claims, by its very correlation to their own religion's age and origins that it - Hallowe'en - is indeed – ancient - more importantly, an ancient religion.

They (the fundies) tell us rather loudly at times that because Witches and Demons and Magic -- OH MY! -- are mentioned (if somewhat vaguely) in their religious texts - that it is their faith and that alone with possibly the exception of your hard-earned $$$ monetary contributions that prevents evil incarnate from running rampant in the world.

YEAH, right. I ask you - does it seem to be working?

Besides, I am always distracted by the time-line on this one... Raising its ugly little head for contemplation is the age-old quandary... which came first, the chicken or the egg... day or night... Pagans or Christians... Samhain or All Saints Day... and why do we care? I have always wondered how an ancient religion or culture can be perceived as anti-Christian if it actually predates Christianity. Is it not just like a bunch of neurotic Johnny-come-lately types to present this wonderfully perplexing question for endless debate!

How many times has this line been pulled out of the hat full to overflowing with misogynist, patriarchal BS?

Thou shall not suffer a witch to live...

Please get a new line! This dire warning has lost its edge.

Being a mild skeptic at heart, the warnings perceived in this - dare I say it - questionably original material so heavily extolled (religious texts – another rant) have me quakin' in my boots about as much as a quote from The Wizard of OZ. "Gee, Toto..." At least, we can be fairly certain one of them is unabridged text... and not a white-washed, watered-down, lily-scented, version of the original...

I'm going to get you, my pretty, and your little dog, too!

Coming from a Christian background and being of a mostly Pagan’ween persuasion these days (a conscious adult choice, mind you) I find after all these years, that I really do not mind the never-ending debate. For people like me, the debate is what keeps me on my toes... makes me reevaluate my perspective from time to time... or at least every Hallowe'en.

But! It would be oh so very comforting if some reputable scientific person (excluding descendants of Frankenstein, of course) could actually produce irrefutable evidence (I am thinking DNA) to prove beyond the shadow of a doubt that:

...Hallowe'en is...
... actually THE be-all, end-all ancient high festival day of the oldest religion known to humankind (one which predates current religions by an eon or so)...

...Hallowe'en is...
... the one true path to spirituality (for those who must have their dogma), Hallowe'en - the Religion... I like the sound of it...

...Hallowe'en is...
... the true and everlasting spiritual connection to the Cosmic Cauldron, commonly known to Hallowe'en aficionados as the Great Pumpkin..., the celestial womb, the seed from which springs all life eternal...

...Hallowe'en is...
... the tragic and true story (adapted from the screenplay, of course) of how the Goddess/God met, grew horns, bred black cats and made a fortune teaching fledgling witches to fly around on brooms... and leap over bonfires without scorching their back sides... unfortunately neglecting to instruct said Witches in how to avoid the Hangin' Tree and Burnin' Times...

...Hallowe'en is...
... finally; the ultimate definition of human quintessential existence, in that our sole purpose in life should be the pursuit of personal gratification taken in the form of sticky trick-or-treat sweets and endless nocturnal revelry... just like I always thought... at least one night a year...

Well, one can dream...

But Hallowe'en is hardly any of those things. Nor, for that matter is any other greeting card holiday in the USA because to the vast majority that’s what Hallowe’en has become. What Hallowe'en is, can be conversely compared to the same phenomena that explains what we call the kabillion $$ dollar industry masquerading as religion these days in America. It is simply a product of our vast and very diverse, multi-cultural, melting pot population whose roots spring from a rich and varied compilation of European belief systems, folklore, backwoods BS and homespun, hand-me-down heritage.

Sprinkle in a fair amount of creative license, a good marketing strategy, a decent profit margin and what do you have? Yep, we have the freedom to celebrate our holidays, religious or not, HALLOWE'EN included, my friends, any damn way we please in the good ol' US of A. Not only that, we are ready, willing, and able to $$ PAY $$ big time for the privilege.

But I digress... While it is...

... possible to debunk some of the vast amount of incorrect information, misconceptions and crass speculation circulating out there about Hallowe'en, as having no basis in fact...

... and possible to deal with the misconceptions conceived more or less in fiction, whether it be from ignorance or malice or just a blatant disregard for sound journalism...

... my research concludes it is not possible to offer proof positive one way or the other of an exact and relevant origin of Hallowe'en that indicates significance within any single ancient religious or, for that matter, ancient cultural framework.

The whole p-o-i-n-t of this lunatic discourse... in my humble opinion, if you eliminate the fundamentalist religious backlash (which suits me fine) then the overall good versus evil dispute is deflated. It sort of farts and flies out the stained glass window, so to speak.

Hallowe’en like much in our American heritage and like so many of our so-called American holiday ideologies is but one of the chameleon threads that weave the fabric of our culture in bright and wondrous variety. It is like Santa Claus, the Christmas tree, Saint Patrick, and the Easter Bunny - all seemingly American ideas borrowed from somewhere else, properly restructured and reinvented for mass market appeal. In America – it’s all about capitalism you know. I call it the watered-down, warm-fuzzy, yes, Virginia... let-us-make-a-million approach.

The Hallowe'en ideology survives by constantly changing and redefining itself in terms we either enjoy and accept or abhor and reject depending on our individual willingness to allow new concepts of old ideas into our lives.

Either way - It Lives! You see? As long as there is a strong opposition to just about any idea... it will survive because there will always be someone out there to support it... if for no other reason than to prevent the opposition from dictating or censoring the same idea that under other circumstances would be more or less meaningless.

There will always be certain conceptions, ideas, and beliefs embraced by some and opposed by others.

There will always be heathens, heretics, humanists, pagans, goths and...
OH MY GOD! WITCHES!

There will always be holier-than-thou religious sorts, evangelists, fundamentalist critics and...
OH MY GODDESS! PREACHERS!

It is always either us or them. Americans indiscriminately label and categorize everything, are obsessed with what THEY are thinking and half the time cannot define the mysterious THEM in recognizable terms.

FYI: My concept of THEM is a Southern Baptist preacher and armed with that image, I have learned not to give a damn what THEY think except when it provides fodder for writing rants such as this one.

By the way: Have you contemplated your personal concept of THEM?

The nature of the Beast (that means us) is a proclivity toward intolerance for Other Beasts (that means them) who choose to behave or believe differently... and vice versa... an intolerance which breeds in intensity and seems to be directly proportionate to:

... the mass popularity and length of time a controversial idea is perpetuated...

... the size of the temper tantrum thrown by head-in-the-sand Witch Hunters who reject all ideas that exist outside their own concept of reality or egotistical control...

... and of course, how much $$ moolah $$ is to be made from it.

Hmmm... I wonder if an investor representing a religious organization, by some quirk of fate bought into the stock for a company that manufactures plastic jack-o'-lanterns - would they - having seen the bottom line - be so quick to brand them evil and eliminate them from distribution? Hallowe'en IS after all, a multi-billion dollar a year industry second only to Christmas (let us not go there!) and maybe the Super Bowl... not to overlook the big non-tax-paying business of Religion itself.

So! For what it is worth, my theory about Hallowe'en is this... whether you SEE Hallowe'en as a religious experience, a cotton candy holiday, or a reason to dress weird, go out and create mischief, or even a defining moment when you deliver the word from your soap box pulpit about the yin and yang of good and evil... rest assured, you will SEE it...

Why?

BECAUSE there is PROFIT to be made from it, silly!

BECAUSE people LIKE it...

They ENJOY it...

They WANT it...

And, in the good ol' US of A what the people want, the people get, whether they need it or not.

For what it is worth, it really does not matter if some self-righteous-stick-in-the-mud Party Pooper tries to piss on the Hallowe'en Parade.

HALLOWE'EN HAPPENS!

It is totally irrelevant if Hallowe'en has been around since the dawn of time, sprouted in some primordial pumpkin patch an eon ago, popped out of a Cracker Jack box just yesterday or from whence it came...

Hallowe'en is here and it is here to stay!

What is October Country?

It is a state of mind, really. My state of mind. Where all my favorite things reside and flourish... books, art, poetry, creativity and more...

Where autumn winds rattle the windows, sending leaves skittering down the lane in a headlong rush toward winter...

Where books and primitives and Grandmother's things line the shelves in curious but harmonious diversity...

Where cocoa laced with Irish Creme is always brewing...

Where the raucous caw-caw of crows is welcome, and Jack-O'-Lanterns glow and Witches cackle...

365 days a year...

I am the Octoberwych. I bid you Welcome to my Heart's Home. Enter of your own free will in the spirit of peace and good cheer.

Friday, October 31, 2008

Hallowe'en 2008

Tuesday, October 31, 2006

Hallowe'en Rant 2006

HALLOWE'EN 2006

Monday, October 31, 2005

Hallowe'en Rant 2005

HALLOWE'EN 2005

Sunday, October 31, 2004

Hallowe'en Rant 2004

HALLOWE'EN 2004

Friday, October 31, 2003

Hallowe'en Rant 2003

HALLOWE'EN 2003

Thursday, October 31, 2002

Hallowe'en Rant 2002

HALLOWE'EN 2002

Wednesday, October 31, 2001

Hallowe'en Rant 2001

Tuesday, October 31, 2000

Hallowe'en Rant 2000

HALLOWE'EN 2000

SO-BE-IT!

Sunday, October 31, 1999

Hallowe'en Rant 1999

Halloween 1999

Saturday, October 31, 1998

Hallowe'en Rant 1998

HALLOWE'EN 1998

My Favorite Web Sites, Blogs and Stuff

Got October Country Deja-Vu?

Voices whisper in the trees