Halloween is ancestor’s night for voodoo man, a time when the spirits of his ancestral dead appear…
It’s because real ghosts and specters appear in my house. Therefore it’s best I keep the secular trick or treaters out of it, otherwise it might scare the hell out of them.
Halloween for me is the real deal. It’s literally a liminal time between light and dark – the time when the veil between the living and the dead (and supernatural world) is at its weakest.
Typically what I do on Halloween night is I set extra places at the table, with plates and cutlery, for seven of my long-dead ancestors… the ones that are happy to appear again in the land of the living.
At the stroke of midnight, I pour a glass of rum for each of them, and drink a toast to them. Then I dish out food for them.
Do they really appear at the table?
Well, I can feel their presence and I can see them with seer-vision when in a trance state. But if anybody else was there I can’t guarantee they’d see anything, though I’d wager they’d feel something, like the sudden chill that pervades the room when my ancestors arrive.
While all of this might sound macabre and strange, my heritage – Anglo-Saxons and Vikings – used to set places at their tables for the gods in the feasting hall, and served them up food and drink.
Nowadays, distracted by technology and distanced from nature, we rarely see the subtleties of life that are all around us. We don’t see the buzzing life-force of the natural world, the sprawling skies, wispy clouds, and majestic oak trees.
We miss the spirit that is in all things. Sadly our lives are the poorer for it. The sheer vibrancy of being alive amidst the vastness of creation has become deadened.
So my keeping up the tradition of “Ancestors’ Night” on Halloween is a way to keep connected to a world that, in many ways, is increasingly becoming lost.