Stop, Children, What's That Sound? Everybody Look What's Going Down.
Tonight, I was iChatting w/ G/Son about Halloween. He's only for the first time this year old enough to have an idea about it. This weekend, we're going to go buy some cheap drug store costumes and masks and talk about "pretending." Some bags and some M&Ms and practice "trick or treating."
I love Halloween.
It's only September, but I can feel the veil getting thin everywhere. It's thin, especially, along Spout Run, by the Potomac, where there's running water and lots of trees and large rocks and an unmistakable feeling of "otherness," magnified by every wet event. But the veils are thinning everywhere: in my office and around my bed and beside my morning glories and inside my bookcases and around my altar and . . . and inside the two-inch-hole the squirrels have dug in my Eastern lawn to pull out the v last acorns from last Autumn, the ones that will get them from now until true Autumn 2008.
And, therefore, let the immeasurable come. Let the unknowable touch the buckle of my spine. Let the wind turn in the trees, and the mystery hidden in the dirt swing through the air. I think it will be fun!
I'm a woman, a Witch, a mother, a grandmother, an eco-feminist, a gardener, a reader, a writer, and a priestess of the Great Mother Earth. Hecate appears in the
Homeric Ode to Demeter, which tells of Hades who caught Persophone
"up reluctant on his golden car and bare her away lamenting. . . . But no one, either of the deathless gods or of mortal men, heard her voice, nor yet the olive-trees bearing rich fruit: only tenderhearted Hecate, bright-coiffed, the daughter of Persaeus, heard the girl from her cave . . . ."