I loved Halloween growing up. My parents didn’t know or care anything about its pagan or Celtic ancestry or any possible evil influences; it was about getting the kids out the house for the night and not having to buy them candy for a month…well, at least a week.
I love those memories. It was the last time you were able to wear a mask and still be innocent underneath – blameless, authentic and completely vulnerable. Somewhere along the line, however, that innocence seems to fade. The exterior self begins to matter more the older we get. We begin to care about how we look compared to others, what others think and how we are perceived. We begin to wear other masks, not made of plastic or rubber, but cultural masks designed to hide our insecurities and our fears.