Mindful Living: Halloween Mysteries

When I was eight, there was one house that attracted trick or treaters from all over town. It wasn’t that they gave out great candy, it was that they truly believed in the mystery of Halloween. We would creep up this long brick walk, autumn leaves crackling under our feet, smelling woodsmoke and giggling in a jittery sort of way. In the branches of weeping willows, something that looked like bats (but we couldn’t be sure) swung to and fro. Every few steps a cold breeze slipped under our costumes like a ghostly tickle.

At the front door we entered a long black hall, streamers brushing our faces as we crept toward something... something glowing way down at the end of the corridor. If our courage held out, we’d reach a hooded black figure, the face pulled way inside and unrecognizable. He would give us a long ponderous look as if judging our cowardice, then reach slowly into the cauldron for some goodies. We grabbed and ran, shrieking all the way. Once safely outside, we were fiercely proud of our adventure, and told everyone on that block and the next. At that house, Halloween was more than just another snack size snickers, it was magic.

It is that mystery that I seek this Halloween. I wander the long shadows of Hinesburg and search for something scary, something mysterious. A place or a moment where the dark and imaginative side of my soul can some out and play. A place where I can be a princess or a werewolf, or even a dungeon master. A place where the sunset casts the shadows far, far across the meadow to brush my windowsill.

Living in Vermont is a special opportunity to touch the spirit of Halloween. With dark pine forests and Joe Citro to scare the heck out of us with a good yarn, we need only crack open the door to feel the icy fingers of a ghost.

This Halloween take the chance, wake up and be a child again. Carve the biggest jack-o-lantern you can find. Stuff your mouth with peanut brittle. Hide in a goblin mask and scare your neighbor. Run your fingers through the slimy insides of a pumpkin and pretend it’s slugs, or possibly something more sinister. Dance around and cackle at the moon. Halloween is a license to play.

As for myself, I will play a pirate, with a lurid red feather in my cap and adventure in my heart. I will burn a cranberry candle in every room, and hurry by the flickering shadows in the spidery corners of my basement. I will step quickly away from the bed to avoid the creepy crawlies beneath. I will hand out caramel apples with nuts, and carve more pumpkins than is practical. I will sautÈ pumpkin seeds until they snap and spit in the pan, and smell like autumn. This Halloween I will be that house with the long brick walk.

Copyright October, 1998