Stirring the Cauldron.
A few days ago, while meditating, I saw Petey Sellers as a witch.
Of course, I saw him as a witch, since this is the very best season of all, a time when leaves turn, gourds appear, and ghosts gather their strength to hover around every corner. Who knows? Maybe you have a (friendly) ghost who’s sharing your place with you right now. (Hi, ghost!) Seasonal spookiness aside, though, this wasn’t how I expected to see Petey.
Most mornings I say hello to him, but on this particular day, I wanted to know more. “Hi, boy!” I said. “I haven’t seen you in a while. Where are you? What are you doing?” The image popped into my head immediately: Petey Sellers in a tall witch’s hat, standing over a cauldron, stirring. I laughed because Petey loved to be silly, but also because we were in sync. I was at the cauldron lately, too, adding ingredients and stirring, unsure of how the potion would turn out, but knowing that whatever it was, it would be magical.
Change.
It’s the season for it, and I love it, even when it’s hard. The weather shifts outside and inside, too, as we prepare for Wintering. Birthdays are meant for shifting, at least, that’s how mine have always been. It starts with All Hallow’s Eve and keeps going through Day of the Dead, my birthday, and into the next weekend. Birthdays are a chance to close the book on one age and start a new one. It’s a day to celebrate being born, loving the people you love, remembering possibilities, and also reflecting. I love to go to the depths, uncover the mystery, and intuit what’s next while blowing out a few candles along the way.
Like so many others, my job has been shifting, lately. Whether you’re in publishing, entertainment, advertising, or any other industry, if you’re a writer, there’s a good chance you’re shifting, too. Maybe all of us are shifting and growing into kinder, more equitable versions of ourselves while also grappling with the pains that growth brings: financial, emotional, and spiritual. Like stirring the cauldron, you can’t know if a potion will work until it’s finished. You don’t truly know its magic until it’s been put into practice. And during the week between Halloween and Day of the Dead, that liminal space when reality is suspended the the veils lift, you can add new ingredients to the pot, commune with your ancestors, and wear costumes. You can be whoever you want to be.
My favorite Halloween costume of all time was Pee Wee Herman. I can’t find the photo anywhere, but I can see it: me, a high school freshman, with my short hair slicked back, red cheeks and lips, wearing my grandfather’s gray suit, clunky white patent leather shoes, and red bow tie. In the photo, I was doing the Tequila dance, but in reality, I was dressed up because it was a requirement of being on the drill team. I loved dance and thought that drill team was the place to do it, but I was the only girl on the squad with a short, asymmetrical haircut who wore black Converse and a leather jacket with her uniform on Fridays. It never occurred to me that dressing up as Pee Wee Herman wouldn’t be a popular choice. His Saturday Morning Show was everything! Didn’t everyone love it? Luckily my new friends in the drama department got it, and I spent the day doing the Tequila dance anytime anyone asked.
The year I moved to Portland, I dressed up as Tippi Hedren from The Birds and rode the bus from one end of the city to the other so I could take my nephews trick-or-treating. It was 2005, and wearing costumes in the city was fairly normal, so even though I had a head full of fake birds, everyone on the bus smiled at me. A few years before that, I went as Cotton Candy. I didn’t just want to embody the spirit of cotton candy, I wanted to be cotton candy, a costume you could eat. I sewed colorful licorice onto a vintage pink dress and my boyfriend and I bought dozens of bags of cotton candy and set about making bouffant wigs. Our apartment was littered with white styrofoam mannequin heads and melted pink candy. As it turned out, exposing cotton candy to open air for more than ten minutes causes it to melt. My fluffy bouffants turned into pink swim caps almost immediately! But I was determined. With his help, we made five wigs and sealed them in plastic bags. At the party, brave friends nibbled on my creation, and I ran to the car and changed wigs every twenty minutes until they ran out. A few years earlier, in college, I went as Scully from the X-Files. My boyfriend at the time was Mulder, and our friends from an art collective went as aliens. It was a costume for the ages! But my Marie Antoinette meets candy costume was the stuff of my creative dreams.
Once Petey Sellers arrived on the scene, Halloween became more about him – and the fact that he didn’t love costumes. Instead, we helped my nephews with their costumes, last-minute mustaches, and face painting, and handed out candy on their porch. In later years, we stayed in our neighborhood and took walks before dark to see the decorations and decked-out kids. Posing with skeletons was Petey Seller’s thing! And at home, we drew ghosts and put them in the windows; made altars for our ancestors; and celebrated my birthday. One year we even did a photo shoot that turned out moodier than I expected, but I loved it. It’s a snapshot of our partnership, and also the time of year we adored, cooler walks and bright leaves, moody and magical at the same time.
That’s the thing about changing seasons: they require stillness, but action, tending, but letting go. Before I got sick, I did a week-long Qi Gong immersion. After a week of gathering on Zoom every morning from 6:30 - 7:30, I felt revived and reawakened. I’d been on screens too much, panicking instead of moving forward. I missed having animal energy in my house and in my life. But that’s the great part about Qi Gong. It relates to animals, elements, and the seasons. In those morning hours with soft light, I slowed down, gathered my Qi, and moved like an animal, lion fists and tiger claws; arms in motion and arms raised, gathering earth and sky, gather and release.
This started with the canine at the cauldron, Petey Sellers in a witch’s hat. But I also imagine all the dogs I know and love around me, stirring the pot, peering in. Every once and a while a bubble pops up, steam rises, and ingredients are added as others meld into the brew. Mixing and making magic. Stir in the in-between. Stir in possibility. Stir in faith and hope. Being willing to go wild places, create bridges, and ask companions to gather around the cauldron, too, adding their own ingredients.
Stirring is being present, showing up. And as I imagine Petey there, I see my cats, too, Keiko and Gigi, my grandparents, and all the other ancestors. They’re circled around the cauldron, smiling, their reflections beaming up from the potion. I look down with courage, resilience, and curiosity. What’s in the pot? What can I add? Learn? What’s leaving as steam, flying up to the sky? And then what’s left? I turn to Petey, who’s always and forever smiling at me, and smile back. I put my hand on the long, wooden spoon, the one he’s been holding, and join him, stirring the potion like when he was here. Making something out of nothing, creating worlds that didn’t exist before, using my imagination for good. Making magic for the world.
“That smells good!” Petey says as stars float up from the brew. The purple potion sparkles, its magic matching the moment and the moonlight. I wave at the giant skeleton down the street and smile at the pumpkins. I embrace the eclipses, dark nights, and my ancestors, waiting for their turn, spirits gathering, supporting. Curious about what’s in the cauldron, too. But like me, they know it’s almost ready. And that whatever it is, it will shine.
Update:
Sorry this post is late, but: Covid! It was my first time having it, and it takes a while to recover. But there’s so much going on in the world right now, so much suffering and pain, that I wanted to send this out as a bit of light. I’m sending you love, hopes for peace, and a little magic to your corner of the world. What are you stirring? What’s in your cauldron? I’d love to hear from you! Comment, or send a note. The new feature, Good Writer, Good Dog, is coming in a few weeks, so stay tuned! I’m excited. Thanks for being here, sharing, commenting, and subscribing. I’m still stirring the cauldron in this space, but getting clearer on its next direction. It will always be a bright spot, an offering from me to you. Happy October/November! xo