An Homage on Hallow’s Eve

Dear Friend and Reader,

THERE IS SO MUCH going on right now in the human world that I would like everyone to take a few moments to extricate themselves from their surroundings for one moment. Allow yourselves the pleasure of soul-suspension and enter the state of timelessness that Samhain, or Halloween, provides.

I was talking to a friend today about voting and he said something that I thought was very real, and very wonderful. Upon asking him if he cared about what was going on in the political spectrum, he replied, “Political concerns are short-lived.”

As angry as I get about all the issues coming to the fore, as frustrated as I have been at the stagnation of life’s progress, these words rang true to me, and they came from the very spirit of this Sabbath. The process of life is a brief one. In that spirit, the best revenge is living well and to the fullest. Like what King said, you cannot fight violence with violence, nor can you fightВ ignorance with ignorance. A warrior of Light must understand life’s brevity and gravity and have a sword tempered by heavy doses of joy. There are things much higher than what gets discussed at a table. The processes of the Sun, Moon, stars, for example, and the mysteries of the deep forest are a few.

But especially, this day is about those who have passed. And so, in that vein, I would like to tell you all a story aboutВ a loved one who has passed from this world in order to pay him homage. His name was Grendel and he was my first cat.

When I turned eighteen I decided it was time to get a place of my own.В My partner at the time was working on the road and I rarely saw him. It was only a matter of time before I decided to get a cat. It just so happened that a friend of mine’s mother had a kitten. He was under a year old and too mischeivious to keep in the woman’s house. I guess he was knocking stuff over all the time, getting into things that he wasn’t supposed to. In either case, my friend told me that his mother wouldn’t miss this cat much and so I could have him.

I remember the day my friend brought him over to the apartment. Now the apartment buildingВ was so old that it was sagging in the middle. When you got to the top of the stairs and headed towards my place, if you were drunk, the tilt of the floor made it feel like a funhouse. The walls were too thin for privacy. The landlady forbid animals in her building. But that’s not really something I care about. Never have.

From upstairs on the second floor, where my apartment was, I heard the front door open. I knew it was him. It was Ben, and he was bringing the kitten. I have yet to meet another cat who was as vocal as that creature he carried up the stairs. I could hear him all way at the borrom of the stairs and down the hall. When I opened the door, all I saw was a skinny, grey cat clinging to Ben’s vest, looking around with sharp eyes and emitting a series of plaintative, demanding mews. And it didn’t stop once he was put down.

He roamed all over the one-bedroom place. He snooped over to the litter box and the litterbox echoed his mew. He went inside the box and peed, and then meowed for a good five minutes in what I can only consider as pride. I fell in love with him right away. My own sense of pride welled up in me, knowing that I was now in charge of the well-being of this beautiful, slate grey cat. I named him Grendel not only because of my affection for ancient Scandinavian text, but also because that is one of the only stories that features not only a monster, but the monster’s mother as well. We became a team.

When a person invites love into their life, very rarely will their horizons not expand. When a person finds an animal to love and who also loves them back, they become a different person from who they once were in a way I cannot find adequate words to explain. When Grendel disappeared one New Moon, I felt a shift in the veil of time and space once more. The world of day-time, appearence, of solid material, of definite emotions and colors became cheap illusions.

Somehow, though I still am brought to tears at his absence in my life, I know his presence deepened my wisdom and I will always be grateful for that.

In the tradition of Samhain (pronounced sow-WEN), I plan on cleaning the leaves off of his grave beneath the cedar tree that lies on the corner of my property. There will be candles and a bouquet of marigolds, a cup of rum and some tobacco, as well as a little bit of food. I intend to do the same thing for my Grandfather, because he passed this year as well.

When I was little, Halloween was a time to have fun and wear costumes and get candy. I hadn’t lost anyone yet, and so the world presented only its potential to me. Now, as I mature, and I lose people and things, I realize that this process of transformation is what makes the world a deeper place. Memory is as powerful a vehicle as ambition in our lives. It is memory that brings the dead back to us. Maybe you could say that through the lines of memory we can communicate, like a psychicВ telephone.

And the act of remembering takes the edge off of death. It’s amazing what happens when you think about someone who has gone. You can feel them getting closer to you. The chasm between Life and Death narrows, the irrevocability of it all dissolves.

Thank you, baby cat, for being born and for letting me find you. And thank you for passing and serving as a guide into the realm that the living only see as shadows. Tonight, I raise a tumbler of rum in your name, and I’ll keep the candles burning, so you can find your way back home. As always, I’m looking forward to tonight.

Blessed be,

Genevieve Sophia

PS — If any of you would like to pay a homage to someone you are thinking of tonight who has gone on, please don’t be shy. Post away!