When it is dark enough, you can see the stars.”—Ralph Waldo Emerson

Greetings Dear Ones!

I cannot believe it is already the second day of November. This year is slipping by like leftover fiddle chili through chickens. Our nation is now staggering sideways in a sugar coma left from Halloween towards midterm elections in less than a week’s time. (The Fright continues sans milk duds.) The sky already has that dull, November gloom to it, as though we dwell inside a dirty pearl. Days shorten, darkness lengthens. Owls and howls and late-night prowls are more prevalent as What is Hungry edges closer. This morning, I was ten feet from a coyote when I went outside to empty the ash from the wood stove.

Hard frosts are more common now. I go out to do the morning chores and the yearlings are standing in the corner of the field that is closest to the house, awaiting my arrival and blowing great wafts of vapor through their nostrils. It looks like smoke pouring from their internal hay burners. If I am late, I can hear the impatient mooing from inside the house. As I heave into view, singing our Good Morning song, their backs and ears stiffen with intense interest, their eyes open wide; they visibly brighten. Their whole bodies seem to smile. I slip under the fence and get enveloped in warm breath, hugs and cuddles. We are SO happy to see each other! After a few moments, I duck the zap of electric wire and go in the front of the barn while they dance around to the back gate and enter via their own entrance. They know nothing of elections. They live under the most benevolent of dictatorships. The sheep too are happy to see me—though ninety percent of their brightening comes from seeing the feed scoop and the hay. Still, it does my spirit so much good to have this daily welcome, to be seen as “Something Pleasant Approaches…” I would take this kind of Sweetness over a cauldron of candy any day.

I only worked on a few Halloween costumes this year and they were all for adults. One woman loves to dress up as the same Disney villain every year but in different outfits. She had ordered this costume online and none of the proportions worked for her so I had a lot of work to do. She is very petite, so we had to chop off a huge portion of this year’s skirt, the loss of which was in danger of ruining the total effect but then she had the brilliant idea of bunching it all together like a bustle behind her. It solved the problem perfectly. When she came for the final fitting, she looked in the mirror as excitedly as if she was seven years old and had been told she could keep her whole pillowcase full of sweets.

“Halloween is my THING” she said breathlessly. “I just Love Halloween. I love dressing up for the kids who come trick-or-treating. I love going out dressed like this to hear my favorite band play at all the senior centers. I think people enjoy it. I don’t care if no one else is in costumes or not. I just love it. My husband refuses to come. He just stays home. He doesn’t want to get dressed up. But he loves that I love it. He is fully supportive, as long as he doesn’t have to be included.”

My niece wanted help with her costume too. She had a brilliant design but did not quite know how to attach a spandex body suit to a woven coverall that was cut down the middle. (She was going as one who was partially transformed.) We settled on the idea that the bodysuit would not be cut down the middle but remain intact underneath half the coverall. To settle the stretch issue, I decided to sew the coverall to her jumpsuit while she was in it. She lay on my cutting table, looking like a gorgeous cadaver, as I carefully hand-stitched her into the costume. It was nerve wracking “surgery” trying not to nick her with my needle as I attempted to pick up a tiny bit of spandex with each stitch and anchor it to the woven material above. The seam went right down her mid-line, which made things awkward in a few places!

“Can you imagine if I offered this service to other customers?” I asked as I stitched over her bum cheeks.

“Never!” hissed Prudence.

Rabbit and I couldn’t stop giggling. The end result was spectacular. She looked incredible. Half of her was totally gorgeous and exotic and sensual and the other half was sternly in uniform. She captured a “transition” perfectly.

I love that Halloween brings out latent creativity in people who wish to transform themselves for a night. My favorite costumes are the ones that take thought and are not bought from a store. The best costume ever was not one that I made personally but only heard about. A young friend of my daughter’s is an excellent seamstress and dating an engineer. She sewed dance clothing for them that contained strands of lights and he programmed the lights to get brighter and brighter when they got closer together and to dim as they drifted apart. They attended a party where their proximity to each other was evident by whether or not they were glowing brightly.

This isn’t just a charming costume idea, it’s a perfect metaphor. Who doesn’t want to transform into this? I believe we DO light up around those we love, and grow dim in the face of separation or loss, whether we are bullocks awaiting breakfast or me, finding out I really have eaten all the milk duds already.

I have been thinking about what lights us up a lot lately. I think about the man, relieved to sit home on the couch while his life-long partner dresses as a villain to party without him. This is a beautiful thing. In his case, proximity might dim them both. Having the space to let each other dance their own dance, the way they choose, is enlightened indeed. She knows her way home. Bewigged and bejeweled, trailing a flume of excess fabric, she travels her compass trail to the Elk’s Club, the Senior Center, and back without faltering. They are the modern, gender-reversed version of John Donne’s poem “A Valediction Forbidding Mourning.” There is Joy.

The northern hemisphere continues to darken daily, as our planet runs to the outer reaches of its orbit and certain media sources reach the limits of insanity. It’s easy to feel depleted, to feel ourselves grow dim along with the days, especially with our politics in chaos and the prices of food and fuel rising. We all have disappointments and worries about the future. Anger and resentment look flashy but they are not the Light. They provide sparks but no heat. Friendly eyes, when they meet, are like candles touching new wicks, igniting warm smiles. Have you witnessed old friends bumping into each other at the post office? It’s high wattage. Lighting up takes energy but the right smile, the right tune, the right phone call from the right person can light us up for days.

Messages of Kindness and Light seem weak, trite, unsatisfying …I get it. Garrison Keillor says “Hope is a cup of chamomile tea; resentment is a double bourbon.” I’d love to go to my local polling station, shake a bucket of grain and have everyone brighten instantly. But people are NOT sheep. This is going to be tricky. We’re going to have to do this, one smile at a time—a smile that says “hey there, neighbor, I’m secretly your friend! This community/county/country/planet is our shared home. I might not agree with your opinions or choices but I want you to have them. You might not get what you want, but your voice and vote matter. My candidate might lose but I won’t lose my dignity or integrity. The only pronouns that matter to me are We and Us. There is no ‘them.’”

What lights you up, Dear One? How can we use our skills to light each other up? My animals light me up. Work lights me up. Music and seeing other people lit up lights me up. I love to hear about partnerships that cause the partners to light up. North of the equator here, it’s another fifty days until the Winter Solstice. What is your plan for refusing to go dim?

As ever, thanks for your Good Work! Thanks for subscribing, for sharing, and for taking the time to comment.

With Sew much love,

Yours aye,

Nancy