Halloween is a night where people put on someone else’s clothes, someone else’s face, someone else’s persona, light up their imagination and walk around begging as if it was there own. Yes, I have celebrated. For years I celebrated until the paint of the mask had burned into my face, until the wings on my back wilted and I could barely walk, until the polyurethane pants with painted on logos that made me look like a cowboy only in my own mind fell to shreds by the wayside. I have worn costumes and masks and carried false weapons. And yes, when you saw me I was laughing. Then one day my legs gave out and I could not see. The batteries on my flashlight had worn down and I found myself out and about in some strange neighborhood.
My dad had dropped me off and now I might never get home. So I threw off these coverings, threw down these clothes and let loose the candy I had collected. It was not night. It was not dark. I was neither out of my neighborhood nor lost. The earth rotates like a lollipop handed to us by a kindly old woman. The clouds swell like a grey towel and then dry. The moon is only a reflection of what is true. In the heart of the sun a fire burns. Thoughts are flung together to be refined and made real. Power is released. It radiates out and cleans all it sees. The clothes we wear, the masks are of our own design. Drama feeds the imagination. Without it we warm and brown in the glory of our real bodies.
We never need be dark and cold. We are touched by the eternal. We never need to die.