How the Wheel Turns for Me

There's a debate currently going 'round the Pagan blogsphere about whether 'real' witches celebrate Halloween or Samhain. The argument being if you are serious about your religion then you call it Samhain.

I call it Halloween. I don't think this makes me less of a witch.

Sometimes words are really important. Sometimes changing the name changes the thing. Hold on a minute while my Inner English Teacher comes out:

A woman without her man is nothing.

Now let's give those same words a more feminist slant-

A woman- without her, man is nothing.

Same exact words. Two completely different meanings.

To me there are two halloweens. There is halloween the cheap which children love because of all the sugar handed out with reckless abandon. Halloween the cheap runs from tacky to a bit scary, but is all fun. Then there is Real Halloween when the veil between the worlds is thinnest. During Real Halloween the world comes to an end and is reborn. Real Halloween is scary because it forces us to really look at our lives. Real Halloween reminds us of our own demise. Real Halloween asks us if we have truly been living.

The two halloweens are flip sides of the same coin. I can sit on my porch handing out candy, and I love trick-o-treaters because no one really does it anymore, which I think is the saddest thing on earth, but I can't ignore Halloween has a dark side. And I think sometimes we need to be scared. Fear gives rise to courage. Sometimes after a scary thing is over we realize it wasn't as bad as we feared and then we have the confidence to move forward, to tackle other thorny issues, to face other shadows.

Part of the debate is that Pagans should acknowledge their Celtic roots, thus we can only call the holiday Samhain. I disagree because I'm not Celtic. Don't get me wrong, I started out studying the Celtic pantheon. My first Goddess was Brighid. I love the mythology. I want to visit the United Kingdom one day and see all those standing stones for myself.

But I live in America. I find myself moved by the forces of this place. There is no Stonehenge here. We have wild boars, but no wise salmon. If I followed a strictly Celtic path, there would be no place for Coyote. And even living in America doesn't mean all American Witches practice the same. Right now it's still warm enough for me to have rituals outside because I live in the subtropical South. Northern Witches are bringing their potted plants in at night. What would I be doing if I lived in Mexico? Would I celebrate one day of the dead (Dia de los Muertos) or would I party for a whole week (Dias de los Muertos)? If I was a Mexican Witch would I be considered less for only celebrating one day? (There's a debate there, too. I remember my professor talking about permanent and temporary conditions. The words change to show the state of the condition. On the one hand, a person was alive then died, so they haven't always been dead. On the other hand, once you're dead you can't come back to life. Wondering if death is permanent or temporary puts a whole new spin on the afterlife.)

I just celebrated Mabon. I like the sound of the word Mabon. But in six months I'll be celebrating Spring, not Oestara or Easter. I celebrate Summer Solstice, not Midsummer because to me it's not the middle of anything. I have a quiet Yule for myself and Christmas with friends and family. Sometimes I have to do three or four Christmases because I can't fit everyone in at the same time, our schedules don't allow it. I hate Christmas. I hate the mass commercialism, the mad spending, the stuffy parties, and the overly rich food. But I suffer through it because my family loves it.

That's really what it all boils down to- you can celebrate anything you want, and call it by any name you like, but please don't take my celebration from me.