Falling Back, 49. The Season of the Spirits.

Going to buy the bread this morning (our baker doesn't deliver on Sundays), I stopped by a gas station to put some in my husband's car. On a plot of land next to the station, a large yellow and blue tent was set up. The circus is in town. 

A circus. During the second wave of a pandemic. With a curfew. But, yes, the circus must go on. 

I didn't see many people around, but showtime was not yet near. Will they even make enough money to break even? I assume attendance must be halved, like at other public shows and buildings. Will anyone even feel like going?

We went to the circus two times, I think, a long time ago, when our daughter was little. I remember one of the shows, the better one, was quite expensive for the three of us. Back then, there were fierce animals, still, like tigers. But a new law some years ago prohibited using animals in shows like the circus. I really have nothing against training animals to perform, but I do believe in treating them well, and I suppose not everyone did so. Circuses lost a part of their mystery and wonder when animals no longer appeared under the tent. 

I suppose now it's mostly acrobats and clowns. It's still fun to watch, I assume, but part of the fun of the circus was watching the tiger, or the lion, eye the trainer, as he skipped around in the cage before the animal. The "oohs" when it seemed to disobey, and the relief when the number was over, and the animal nuzzled the trainer affectionately. Those are gone. 

We are not going today. We will visit the cemeteries, despite the rain. At least the need for an umbrella, and the strong southwest wind, will keep down visitors. Personally, I don't feel like going, and am waiting to see if anyone else will join us. If two other people do, I'll stay home, since groups aren't allowed to exceed four people. I won't mind, not in this damp, grey, depressing weather. I can stay home and write or just play with the cats. 

Not everyone seems to know what this day is about, though. Earlier, my daughter mentioned about going to the cemeteries to someone she knows from a largish city. That other person had not heard of depositing flowers on tombs today. I asked my daughter, "Does she live in the same country as us?" Really, how blind can one be to everything that surrounds them? Even if her parents don't follow the tradition, surely she must have aunts, uncles, grandparents, that do. The tradition she did know about, it seems, was that of gathering sweet-smelling herbs to put in water and wash her face with, today. That girl is about five months behind the times. That's what we do on Saint John's Day in June. 

Today marks another ancient tradition that most seem to have forgotten about. What has been recovered from forgetfulness, and Franco's disdain for ancient tradition that had nothing to do with the Church, is that yesterday was Samhain. But the modern recuperation of Samhain treats it as a one-day affair. In reality, it merely marks the beginning of an entire season.

Samhain was the last day of the year, when the spirits of those who have died come and visit their homes and their families. In many countries, on that night, doors were left open, chairs placed by the fire, and food left on the table, so that loved ones who had passed away could visit home and feel welcome. But the truth is that it also marks the beginning of winter, and the reign of the spirits that wander at night. This was the first night that the Wild Hunt was supposed to howl through the night, chasing wayward souls, and the unwary traveller who ventured out at night. The Hunt, with the Yell Hounds in some areas of Europe, the Estantiga (from Hoste Antiga, old army), or Santa Compaña, here in Galicia, is common to most of Europe. People often hollowed out turnips and put lights in them, then hung them outside to frighten away the Hunt. But this would last the entire winter until the last great day in which the other world mixed with this, and one wouldn't know if they met a spirit or a neighbor, at Carnival. That day, the spirits would finally be exorcised, and sent back into the underworld.

All Saint's Day is merely the modern transformation and continuation of ancient rites and beliefs that used to rule our lives. A lot has been lost, and a lot has been gained.

Life continues.