Were displayed over the weekends. Spiderwebs, we usually vigilantly shoo away, were spread across windows. Skulls, usually buried deep, hang on the walls.
Fear of social encounters? The doorbell rings ceaselessly.
Fear of presenting yourself? Maybe chose the costume of an employed functional adult.
Fear of ably caring for ourselves? Have some more candy.
Halloween feels like playtime with fear. Toying with harvest time, fallow fields, and stripped bare trees.
And then Day of the Dead. A celebration of those we've lost, a recognition that there not completely gone, a reconciliation with death. Remembering that sometimes we have the capacity to hold all of it.
I practice yoga. I lay in savasana. I play dead. I feel so peaceful and I pretend to be a corpse. I am a corpse. I am at peace.
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