November. And it feels like it. November. What a word. How did we get here? Day of the Dead. And it feels like that too. And somehow this year the timing of everything was so seamlessly perfect. The switching of the clocks, the changing of the sky to grey, packing up yesterday, Halloween, celebrating your demons, the darkness, the fear of the world. And now mourning on the day of the dead. It’s been perfectly cathartic.

Well last night was ridiculously fun. Except that I tripped on a wire going into our third party and fell flat on my face and banged up my leg…and then proceeded to dance on it all night long. So now my thigh has a bruise the size of my entire thigh and it sucks to walk. But it was amazing to dance. I needed to dance. It was all so good. Just what Halloween should be. Bonfire light and smoke smells and strobe light dancing and fire in your heart. Shaking the devil off your back.

I started talking to some guy and almost immediately he asked me “Are you a writer? You sound like a writer from the way that you talk.”

I don’t know how life is. Life is present. Life is coming at me and drifting away at the same time. Life is grey now. Day of the Dead is good. Remembering life, remembering death. I wish we could get more thick with this holiday. Really honor the death that is happening all around. The way the earth is letting go. The way everything is giving up. It’s not tragic. It’s part of the circle. It allows for rest, for respite, for rebirth. And the burrowing down, the shedding of skin, the winter, the dark night of the soul, these things too have their time and season and place in the year. And they are not a mistake. They are not something you SIMPLY must get through in order to get through to the new spring. They are a season in themselves, same as any other. The darkness comes, the erosion comes, the trees let go of what they grow and they know what they’re doing. They’re exhaling. And it is not absence of. It is a whole season all of its own. With its own beauties and discoveries. This is life. November too. Normally I dread it, the death, the mute colors, the aching winds. But it is the wisest of all. And I have to learn from it. And I have to accept all parts of the spinning wheel. The great wheel. I have to accept this too. And find that beauty. And the light in the darkness. And the darkness in the light. And I have love the earth for all her messy parts. And I have to love myself for all my messy parts. All of us. All of our Novembers, our Junes, our Aprils. All of it. All the years.

Day of the Dead. And it’s a celebration. And it’s nothing to be afraid of. And you burn yourself alive and you do not fear. This is so much of what modern Western society is missing. We do not embrace the darkness. The way every society throughout time has. We make Halloween a spectacle of polyester and sugar and plastic colors. We laugh at it and we mass market our only opportunity to celebrate the darkness within us. To look at it. To honor it. To honor the dead. We sell it like we sell everything else. And we leave ourselves no time to honor all those jagged places. Let them breathe, let them live, take them out into the light and thank them and then let them go again. Let the leaves fall to the ground.

I am kindling a fire to bring light to my shadows.

Change your life, I promise you will get to the other side. I promise.

And every time you are born again you are born again brighter. With hotter fire, deeper love, faster fearlessness.

Fear. That’s what this is about. Approaching fear with black fire hands and looking it in the eye. Standing inside of it and making friends with it. Engulfing yourself so that you can be free. With fear, without fear. Fearless. We need not make an enemy of fear, but cherish it, let it inform us, and let it go. And burn brighter. Fires hot with flight. Fearless of the night.

Begin again.


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