The evening had all the marks of a good time. Hands were busy with paint and paper. A Celtic reel accelerated in the background, punctuated by scissors snipping in unconscious, yet perfect, rhythm. Feathers, sequins, beads and ribbons were strewn across the table in a way that makes creative people like me sigh with happiness. The smell of glue guns heating up mingled with the aroma of chili simmering in the kitchen. No doubt about it – our first Mask-Making and Chili Extravaganza was turning out to be a huge hit.

I’ve never met a pagan who wouldn’t eat some kind of chili. I should have realized that making masks for the Samhaine season would equally be the same kind of no-brainer for magickal folks. As the trees tease us with their true colors, there is an allure to donning a mask and changing our projection – our reflection! – into something a little more – or less! – us.

Because I was on chili-witch duty, I watched from the kitchen doorway as the Ritual Of The Mask unfolded before me. As effective as any fine incense, the smell of crayons and Elmer’s glue cleansed the space of any grown-up nonsense. Gone were the workday cares and worries. In the rustle-bustle of construction paper madness, Neverland’s anthem was playing, glitter – no, pixie dust! – was flying, and my table was suddenly surrounded by a bunch of people who never grew up. Thank the gods! What a beautiful sight to see adults remember that they used to be able to create pirate ships from refrigerator boxes and swords from sticks!

As the masks started to take form, I found myself wondering about the power being shaped in them, about the place of masks in our practice and our heritage as Witches. Of course, we all know the ancient traditions of scaring off unwanted influences. But perhaps most importantly, whether used for trick-or-treating or in the improvisational mystery of a Mummer’s Dance, masks play a role in giving us a face for the Faceless Ones. Masks make the unseen world real for everyone. For one night of the year, the entire world sees things through a Witch’s eyes. Sadly, what we interact with daily, the mundane world needs a special night of make-believe to see and remember.

While the accepted worldview has changed over the centuries, it strikes me as ironic that we wear more masks than ever in our daily lives. We have the Devoted Employee mask for those days grinding out the overtime and working even though we’re sick. We have the Single Parent mask with accompanying snap-on features that let us portray 32 different additional characters (and we’ve used most of them) . We have the Politically Correct mask and the Keeping Up With The Joneses mask. And don’t forget all of those online identities on WhySpace and WhoTube and FarceBook – each one of those comes equipped with its own glamour called “I’m who I let you think I am”.

The laughter at a sudden mishap involving feathers and a blob of hot glue brings me back to the moment. Glue and feather fiascos aside, Witches are probably among the best at making “masks”. While we enjoy a remarkable amount of religious freedom in America, there is still this tricky little problem of interfacing with a society that just doesn’t “get” us. And that is no treat. We wake up every day with 99% of the population thinking we’re something we’re not, or believing we don’t exist, or praying for us to be something other than what we are, or getting their pastor to protect them from us. No, it’s really no surprise that we find ourselves looking through the eyeholes of Average-American-Citizen day in and day out.

To put it another way, Halloween costumes on Halloween get you candy. Halloween costumes the other 364 days of the year just get you attention and sometimes trouble. In a strange inverse, we cover up who we are every day, relishing that one day a year when we can act a little more witchy than usual and no one will do or say anything but applaud our holiday spirit. That one day feels as good as that chili is going to taste in about fifteen minutes. Maybe better.

But times are changing. Some of us don’t have to wear the masks anymore. A great many of us don’t wear them near as often as we once did. There have been more than a few of us who have felt the thrill when a person we know sees us without the mask and doesn’t reject us. Why don’t they reject us? Because the eyes are the same. It’s hard to be scared of the mask or what lies beneath it when the eyes are still the same eyes that twinkle with laughter at lunch break, that glisten with tears at a chick flick, that show real concern when a child is sick or when life just sucks. Those windows to the soul still provide the same view – a person who is real, a person who cares. We know that Witches are still human beings, but sometimes mundane folk have to be reminded of that fact.

Every unmasking is a step towards freedom. Each time it happens, one more day of Halloween is granted in a long year of being Someone Else. It’s not that we’re ashamed. It’s just damn hard to explain. You say you’re a Witch and instantly they rip one mask off you and shove another one on your face. The mask they choose has a sickly green complexion and a nose that could double as a coat hook provided they hung you upside down, which it looks like they’re seriously considering doing. No, an unmasking that goes smoothly is like hitting the jackpot at the house that gives out all the good candy. It’s the sweetest of treats in the sometime masquerade of being Craft.

I can hear the mask-making wrapping up in the living room as I unpack the bowls and spoons from the feast gear box. No one’s finished; it takes more than a couple of hours to craft an entirely new face. That the evening has been enjoyable is beyond doubt. Laughter continues to flow as the line queues up for the Chili Extravaganza. Having cooked the chili, I am a little less susceptible to its cumin-laden power, so I duck out of the kitchen and let the creative people have at it. Gods know there’s enough. We’re not going to run out before I get back in there. I just want a chance to look at the masks one more time.

I hold up one mask shaped like a raven and view the world around me over the curve of a dark beak. How strange and fantastic it is to change your perspective, I think to myself as I look around the room at things I’ve seen a hundred times before, just not quite this way. It’s going to be such a joy to tie these masks on in just a few weeks and join in Nature’s own Witches’ Ball. As the leaves swirl down the streets like dancers in crisp satin gowns, we will take up our own celebration to honor all those who have cast off the last mask – the illusion of finite human form – and a new year will begin. For myself, I hope that this year will bring into my life a few more people with whom I can stand unmasked. But first, I say a prayer for all those who must practice the Craft in secret, continuing the Mummer’s Dance of our heritage in which silence is safety. If you are one of those and you are reading this now, I see you. I see your eyes. I know you for who you are behind the mask. And I bless you.

Sometimes we must be the Hidden Children of the Goddess. Sometimes we must wear the mask, every one of us. But the times, they are a-changing. Soon we may find ourselves able to simply be. No masquerade, no forced choices between tricks and treats. Just the simple human right to live in the manner we deem best for us without fear of persecution, rejection, or misunderstanding. Truly free to be our boundless selves in a way we have not known since childhood.

Let us all pray for that happy day.

Published 10/19/08, Witchvox Feature Article.