There’s nothing so inspiring to me as relaxing on the front porch on Beggars’ Night, watching the near-full moon rise over the trees and through the clouds, distributing candy to the multitude of polite (yet frightening) spirits that populate the night.
With the Grove’s Samhain liturgy in one hand and Buffett playing in one ear, I couldn’t be any happier than I was last night.
Where else can you watch children learn temperance and greed in the same night?
Where else (outside of a Silver Ravenwolf book) will you find witches and angels laughing and holding hands?
Where else can you hear a sound more pure than OM, the sound of a child’s laughter?
As I recite the invocation to the Gods, children (young and old) interrupt with shouts of pure joy. “Trick or Treat!” I smile, passing them a Snickers bar or a Butterfinger. “Thank you!” they shout. My smile broadens.
“Years grow shorter, not longer,” sings Jimmy in my ear. “It doesn’t matter!” I shout back.
“From ghoulies and ghosties
and long-leggedy beasties,
And things that go bump in the night,
Good Lord, deliver us!”
