Halloween

Among ancient Celts there was Samhain, a celebration of the third and final harvest of the year and veneration of the ancestors. Samhain marked the passage of the old year, welcomed the new year, and manifested the cornerstone belief in the cycle of birth, death and rebirth. In Mexico, there is El Dia de la Muerte, a day to pay due respect to the spectre of death while celebrating life. In America, Halloween is a secular holiday, in which the otherworldly symbols and practices of Samhain and El Dia de la Muerte mix with the playful spookiness of American popular culture.

The transition from the autumn equinox to Halloween is subtle but swift. Autumn warms the heart. We draw close to the hearth kindled with first fire. Pulses quicken in anticipation of sharpened pencils and fresh sheets of paper for school while complexions flush from cheering a favorite football team. On golden Saturdays, we venture to the countryside to wonder at the splendor of turning leaves, to browse antique fairs. In so doing, we connect with times passed and time passing. City greenmarkets and rural orchard stands and suburban supermarkets display a cornucopia: squat pumpkins in burnt orange, pale green, ghostly grey; bumper crops of bell-like butternut squash and its aptly named acorn cousin; the strange, warty forms of gourds. The apple harvest that was celebrated at the autumn equinox is peaking: baskets brim with crisp Romas, tart Granny Smiths, ruby-rich winesaps, mellow golden delicious, sweet Fujis, pie-friendly Macintoshes. Fragrant spiced cider boils in tins at fairs, in kettles at school pageants, in saucepans in our own homes. We light our homes with candles scented with the bouquet of apple, pumpkin, and spice. Autumn hues from gold and amber to orange and scarlet appear in our vases, on our mantles and tabletops. We retrieve heirloom quilts and puffy comforters from cedar-lined closets. During their first nights on our beds they retain the resinous tang of hardwood and mothballs.

The symbols of Halloween begin manifesting as soon as the weather turns crisp. With the possible exception of Christmas, in no other holiday's symbols are its heritage so evident. This begins with the timing of Halloween itself. In ancient Europe and among many modern pagans, October 31 is the celebration of the New Year. Holidays are specific markers of important moments in time, and since time immemorial, New Year’s has been set aside as a time to stop working, offer thanks for blessings received, reflect on the year past, plan for the year coming, and, most importantly, give respect to the spinning wheel of time itself.

As that wheel spins through the evening of Samhain, many cultures believe that the spirits of souls passed (and, to some, those yet to be born) have access to our world through the portals of time. The fundamental aspect of Halloween is otherworldliness. Ghosts are a ubiquitous symbol of this holiday. Though disincarnate, their image enfleshes consumer goods from greeting cards to candy dishes. Every clump of trick-or-treaters contains at least one wee one in a sheet with two burn holes for eyes. Ghosts appear in movie marathons on tv, as well as the documentaries broadcast every October about haunted locales, ghost chasers, spiritual mediums. Some believe that ghosts can manifest in the late-show films that appear on tv this time of year.  Those who study hauntings report that ghosts are, indeed, at their most active during October, in a steadily increasing state of agitation that crests on Halloween night. Many believe that the dead can persist in some form in a realm beyond the physical and that, on this magical night, they press ever closer, often with messages to convey to the living.

The physical realm’s proximity to the spiritual on New Year’s Eve parallels the modern holiday of December 31.  On that New Year’s Eve as well as Halloween, fortune-telling is a common activity. For many, fortune-telling is a parlor diversion that flourished during the Victorian era, when séances were as common to drawing-room gatherings as games of cribbage. But then, playing cards are themselves fortune-telling devices, and a skilled reader can utilize a deck of common playing cards as accurately as the more elaborate, atmospheric Tarot. The symbols and practices of fortune-telling always work themselves into Halloween gatherings. Gypsies are a modern archetype of fortune-telling and a common Halloween costume, and many seers such as Tarot readers, astrologers, numerologists, and spiritual mediums find the demand for their services highest during the month of October. Sales of the Ouija board peak during this time, and someone’s grandmother may even resurrect the old country practice of replacing the talking board’s planchette with a wine glass.

The exact provenance of the jack-o-lantern is not certain, but the hollowed pumpkin, carved with a humanized face either scary or scared and lit within, refers to the busy activities of the spirit world on All Hallows Eve. Some believe that jack-o-lanterns originated as hollowed-out turnips, hung from pegs or doorknobs and used to store precious candle drippings. Wax itself, though common today, was precious in the ancient world and considered a magical substance. Some believe that by the time colonists decided to set sail for the new world, the hollowed turnip had evolved to having a face and was used not just as a storage vessel but as a light source that was also a beacon for -- and protection against -- wandering spirits.

Upon landing in the Americas, the colonists learned survival skills from indigenous Americans including, of course, foraging for food. Many squashes are as indigenous to the Americas as the Native peoples who explained to the colonists how to use them. The colonists combined the practice of lighting the way for the spirits with the roomier accommodations of a hollowed-out pumpkin. Thus was the jack-o-lantern born from the interaction between cultures – not inappropriate for the night that venerates interaction between two worlds -- two cultures, or the physical and spiritual.

This brings us to the most pervasive symbol of Halloween: the witch. Whether she is the mischievous crone of umpteen scary stories or the sexy temptress made iconic by Kim Novak, the stereotypical witch of secular Halloween is a far cackle from the religion of Wicca. Just as the swirling embroidered robes of the Anglican clergy have liturgical significance, so does the witch’s costume recognizable to anyone who’s seen a witch in any of her cultural incarnations from Saturday morning cartoons to party invitations. Among the Halloween costumes for sale or rent are variations on a basic black dress, perhaps with a cape, in every style from sexy sorceress to wicked witch. The lacy, gownlike sorceress dresses refer to the fortune-telling aspect of the witch. Sorceresses and wicked witches alike dress in black, and black is the color of the venerated wisdom that comes with age. The word “crone,” spoken by a practicing Wiccan, is not a derisive term but one of deepest respect.

It is that crone who wisely consents to allow the archetype of the “wicked witch” whose presence dominates modern Halloween. Through she is popularly supposed to have been created for the movie version of L. Frank Baum’s The Wizard of Oz, the wicked witch as a popular culture incarnation existed as far back as the earliest American Halloween celebrations -- quite chilling, when we remember the burning times. Like the jack-o-lantern, that early American archetype was, in turn, the manifestation of memories far more ancient, dutifully kept.

Every element of the design of the wicked witch is symbolic. Her steeple hat symbolizes both an element of the Wiccan liturgy, and the witch’s purported ability to fly up chimneys (perhaps meeting another archetype, Santa, on his way down?). Once she clears the chimney, the witch flies in silhouette against pale moonlight aboard her broom, and brooms are an important element of Wiccan practice. The magic that allows the wicked witch to fly comes from an ointment, one of whose ingredients is soot, which blackens the skin. The wicked witch’s flowing black cape references the liturgical garb of Wiccan clergy. The wicked witch wears the buckled shoes and wool stockings of her hidden pilgrim children. The shoes also refer to the practice of children leaving their shoes by the fire on certain magical nights, in order to find them filled with treats the next magical morning (an office fulfilled by stockings on another holiday). And this, of course, is trick or treating.

The wicked witch is often depicted as green-skinned, a more obscure but no less potent symbol that refers to the greening of nature. And that green skin is often disfigured and covered with warts. This is because witchcraft remained a crime for which accusees were executed. In the social crucible, witches were “uglified;” their appearance disfigured symbolically and literally. Ironically, witches were traditionally healers, noted especially for their facility in curing skin disorders. This accounts for the association with warts and leads to more witchy symbolism. Whether accompanying a witch on her ride across the moon or simply stashed in a geometry teacher’s desk drawer as a Halloween prank, frogs and toads are important players at the Halloween ball.

And, of course, there is the black cat, eyes aglow, hissing in fear, back arched in terror. Everyone knows that cats and toads are the classic witch’s familiars, those companion animals who help the witch with her magical endeavors. But all animals can convey messages to those so attuned. The meanings ascribed to creepy-crawlies correspond with the deeper meanings of Halloween: bats symbolize rebirth, owls symbolize deception, snakes symbolize transmutation, etc. The wisdom of nature imbues the practices and symbols of a modern secular holiday with ancient power, and in the unmasking of this hidden, or occult, truth, we see the importance of the Halloween practice of wearing masks. In many Native American religions, masks were constructed with deepest veneration in the forms of animals or otherworldly spirits in order for the religious leader of the tribe to attune with the spirit contained within the mask.

The masquerade of Halloween embraces all fantastic creatures. Just look at the hordes of trick-or-treaters. Interspersed among the prefabricated popular cartoon characters of the day (some of whom are, inevitably, the symbols of tomorrow) are monsters of all kinds. There are miniature vampires with plastic fangs and inky hair swathed in dad’s hair goo and tiny mummies swathed in gauze. Frankenstein’s monster imported directly from a movie escorts the monster’s bride culled from the sequel. Shiny silver aliens gambol along, wide-eyed and ethereal or boxy and robot-like. Werewolves rear their lupine heads; perhaps accompanied by lumbering zombies. Sometimes you see monsters that have no definite origin other than the creativity of paper mache and poster paint. And some monsters are too scary, and gentler masquerades from ballerinas to bumblebees flit through the inky night.

But halloweening is far from exclusive to children. Adults masquerade in costumes at office parties, at their local watering holes, at open houses, at autumn festivals, on main street parades, or in their own homes, waiting for the hoard of beggars to ring the bell for a fistful of candy. It is always fascinating to observe the freedom of expression afforded an adult in a costume. The mayor dresses as the Headless Horseman while the lady in the nicest house on the block dresses as a fairy godmother. Your boss shows up in the football outfit he wore to win his high school state championship while your best friend sports the cork-blackened face and ragamuffin tatters of the hobo. A couple dressed as paranormal investigators compares toy guns with a couple dressed as matinee cowboys. The college boy who thought he was too cool for this stuff shows up at the last minute wearing a plastic stethoscope and a filched lab coat, pockets bulging with a supply of plastic bugs to earn the attention of the college girls whose costumes, of the latest hottie on MTV, cause their parents to require an extra shot of cider. Wonder Woman chases a caveman and not the other way around.

We create monsters in order to manage our fascination with the unknown.  Monsters become heroes by undertaking the journey. Along with fascination comes fear, reminding us that the profound power of illusion, though it can be harnessed, is ultimately beyond our control. So, on this spookiest and shiverriest and most holy of nights, make the most of your time with a simple and fun celebration. Treats needn’t be fancier than candy and popcorn (though adult chaperones may appreciate something more substantial, provided they’re not driving). Tell fortunes and bob for apples. Haunt your own house. Halloween has a multitude of meanings, many deeper than their surface suggests, but it is at the surface that magic begins. In this monster-mash of symbols and celebration, allow your spirit to be free on this most magical of nights.