Halloween always draws my attention in to many abnormal facets of life: horror films, haunted houses, ghosts (although I definitely ponder the existence of spirits in my regular life, I admit), and fear in general. I find it kind of fantastic that we have a holiday on this planet dedicated - as it was so intended in the beginning or not - to scaring ourselves and others. We willingly sit down to watch films that make us jump out of our skin and sleep with a light on. We feel entertained by painting ourselves into walking gremlins and zombies, or feeling our way through pitch-dark haunted houses where costumed actors jump out at us and make us shriek.
Or.... some of us do that - I used to, but have grown into one big fat wuss in my recent years.
Still, a focus of the holiday is on the things that we technically spend a lot of time shunning. We embrace the ghosts, demons, and evil forces that make us shiver and hide and stare them right in the eyes, wanting to see what else they will reveal to us. I'm sure there is a whole sociological school of thought behind this (one of them being that Hallmark is a brilliantly successful company), but I think it goes back to something primal: survival. Instinct. Growth.
When I was a kid, I loved nothing more than telling scary stories around campfires during the summer. I loved this, and I don't know why because I was the first one to knock on my parents' door at 3 in the morning, scared crapless by whatever story someone had just told about an old witch who pickled peoples' fingers and would come tickle you with them in the middle of the night. (Psh, a whole lot of inappropriate in THAT story, told to me when I was 6....)
That hasn't changed a lot as I've grown - but the stories have changed a lot. The scary stories have more to do with things that scare us as adults. My Student Loan payments. What will happen to me as I get older if I don't go after _____ dream. If that person who hurt me in the past could ever somehow hurt me again. If my relationships are strong. If I am a good person. I find myself talking about fears pretty much every day, in one form or another. But the talks aren't nearly as fun as they were when the topics were possessed Jack-o-lanterns. I don't laugh about them the way I used to when I was little, telling the ghastly tales from my 'Goosebumps' collection, which was extensive.
No, instead, I shake. I quiver. I try to feign confidence and I find myself all but freaking out internally. "No but, really, what if they don't like me? What if I fail?" The more I talk over the fears, the stronger they feel - as if they are drawn into the presence of the room, and made a reality.
Obviously I am exaggerating this to illustrate a point. That point being - why do we do this? Why do we make our fears, which are unlikely to take shape and arguably (often) just as ridiculous and far-fetched as the "Paranormal Activity" script? What would happen if we told the stories the way we did around campfires, rather than the way we would in a business meeting, going over every last potential detail? What if we (gasp) laughed at our fears the same way, instead of letting them come alive in the moment?
I will admit that a lot of my life has been dampened by fear. I know I'm not alone. But, it is my mission to embrace the fears, look at them for entertainment value, laugh with most of them (because mine can be nothing short of silly), and even enjoy them as I watch them rise up and fade away.
So this Halloween, I go forth turning my insecurities about myself as a human into campfire stories, told with a flashlight under my face, and over-dramatized to make the crowd gasp. But that is as far as they will go, and the serious conversations will be reserved for the goodness that is my reality.
I hope you will join me....
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