On hallow’s eve, we honor all souls

Every October, I see more & hear more & feel more & know more. With much pain and much pleasure, I have learned to listen to those feelings without doubt and without fear. This hallow’s eve left me writing with pen in hand, and so I share what I can, when I can, how I can.

So, here are some thoughts I think are beautiful & don’t know what to do with…too busy to refine…too shy to share…too prideful to give to chat…This isn’t quite a cohesive essay, but feels more like a stream of consciousness that has been cared for… 

Invocation of Ancestors

On hallow’s eve, I caress the darkness, so it can remind me that I hold the strength to embrace all souls—living and long past.

With gratitude, I honor my ancestors by sitting in communion with my grandmother. I ask her to tell me stories of her grandmother and her grandmother’s grandmother. Her legends a reminder: 

I breathe in the power of my ancestor’s spirit. 

I walk in the power of my ancestor’s wisdom. 

I fall in the loops of my ancestor’s imperfections. 

And I thank them for it; as much as I hate them for it; as much as I love them for it. Through the seasons, their presence lingers, guiding me closer to our wisdom and our creations. 

On hallow’s eve, I caress the darkness, so it can remind me that I hold the strength to embrace all souls—living and long past.

Listening to the Unseen: Remembering Forgotten Traditions 

We live in a time of lost rituals and so it is unsurprising that hallow’s eve is another forgotten practice. I see many people choosing to discard the wisdom of their ancestors, replacing it with religions of the conquerors. Religions that tell you to fight a darkness that will eat you whole, if left unloved, unfed, and untended.

For those—like me—who choose to live with the earth rather than conquering it, we can still hear the rhythms of ritual, if we listen for it. And while our practices are different across the world, the rhythm of each was in perfect harmony because culture was always grounded in the patterns of the earth. 

So, it’s no wonder that we all celebrate hallow’s eve in some form—with our own names and in our own times. The Akan may call it Adae. The Yoruba may call it Egunegun festival. The Fon may call it Dada Gbê. The Haitians may call it Fèt Gede. The Trinidadians may call it J’ouvert. Nonetheless, in a unified melody, we are all calling out for the honoring of the dead, a love for our darkness.

With gratitude, a knowing guides me back to the rituals of my ancestors, led by a feeling that the veil between the spirits and the people are most thin. My faith reminds me that light is born of darkness. As a creator, my womb holds darkness, like the womb of the earth holds chaos. And so, ancient wisdom tells me the light can only live intertwined within the dark.

And so, while the uninitiated regard hallow’s eve as a night of sin, I walk without fear as I know traditions of darkness are rituals of hygiene—a call to purify and cleanse. And so on hallow’s eve, I feel that I am walking on the path of tradition where I choose to honor the darkness of my lineage.

On hallow’s eve, I caress the darkness, so it can remind me that I hold the strength to embrace all souls—living and long past.

Night of Encounters

On this hallow’s eve—a night of darkness and transformation, I walk fearlessly with my ancestors even closer than usual. In the streets of a city that has lost their rituals, I met hungry spirits in human form. 

On hallow’s eve, I caress the darkness, so it can remind me that I hold the strength to embrace all souls—living and long past.

On this hallow’s eve, I looked a woman in her eyes who didn’t care for her life. Her damaged car swerved next to mine. When she rolled down her window and our eyes met, I felt numbness when she looked back. A chill ran through my heart. Driving alongside her, I pleaded for her to pull over, scared for her life, telling her to be safe. And I looked at the man beside her. He didn’t care for her life, but then again he didn’t care for his either. The numbness colder than the autumn air—humans operating soullessly. This night, I met two zombies eye to eye—spirits devouring souls & so I prayed for their safety. 

On hallow’s eve, I caress the darkness, so it can remind me that I hold the strength to embrace all souls—living and long past.

On this hallow’s eve, I watched another man consume me with his eyes. I felt numbness when he looked back. Between bobs of my dress up wig, another man is making dust of conversation. After two minutes and a denied shot of Hennessy, another man says he feels connected to my soul. This night, I met a vampire. I told him don’t worry, be calm. It’s normal. Another man asked, it’s normal? I tell him, yes, that’s my vibe. Your vibe? he whispers. Yeah that’s how I feel. I feel like soul. I feel like connection. Another man touches my waist to pass by. He asks where I’m from. I say a town nearby. He says no, like what’s your lineage. I tell him, I am Black American. He replies, yes, I feel connected to you because we been here a long time. In his tone, I hear a feeling like he knows that we have both lived many lives before. This night, I met a vampire & I told him to be calm, he is feeling love without bloodlust. 

On hallow’s eve, I caress the darkness, so it can remind me that I hold the strength to embrace all souls—living and long past.

On this hallow’s eve, I return home to also mourn the living, to mourn myself. In the dark, I search for my own eyes, my own soul. And I am greeted by the ancestral loops that haunt me. These loops appeared in the form of past lovers. Lovers I met in this life who I’ve known in lives before. This night, I met my shadow. A reminder that love is the fixation at the heart of my darkness. And so I remember each lover who thought that we were eternal lovers who simply found each other again in this life. I remember each lover who remembered that we are actually eternal enemies being forced into a haunting love. I remember each lover who felt daunted by our shared ancestral loop in time. And I wonder if I will ever leave my own addiction behind. This night, I met my own shadow and I kissed it. 

On hallow’s eve, I caress the darkness, so it can remind me that I hold the strength to embrace all souls—living and long past.