Walpurgis Night

There's often a lament in November that Halloween only happens once a year. And for all of the subversive gestures towards rejiggering Valentines Day or some other occasion to that end, it seemed to me always that Walpurgis night was JUST SITTING THERE, right at April 30th, a perfect midpoint between Halloweens.

Walpurgis night has been observed in different, often contradictory ways in different cultures. It is both an occasion for the gathering of witches (in Estonia) and a commemoration of St. Walpurga, a saint who converted heathens and is evoked to repel witches. Walpurgis night is at once a religious observance, an occult celebration, and an excuse to party outside to greet the arrival of Spring.

Over the years I'd made a bunch of noises about actually putting together a celebration for the occasion, but the Christian aspects kinda threw me. I spitballed a bit and came up with an itinerary for the day that articulated what I felt were its three purposes: to celebrate the occult (this is the second Halloween we're trying to execute here, after all); to honor the coming of Spring and embrace a spirit of renewal (including a vitalization of creative pursuits); and to fight true evil (a nod to the Christian observance of the holiday).

I didn't wind up throwing a big Walpurgis night party. Since I was mainly R&Ding a second Halloween, I was trying to figure out how one would celebrate the thing in the first place. I eventually settled on seven things (listed above), all of which I accomplished over the course of the day. As rigorous and rigid as this planning may seem, there was a spirit of flow, spontaneity, and joy that filled the day, and eventually I felt fully in the throes of the kind of well-being one associates with the devoted celebration of any holiday.

And even though this was a solo flight, a sense of celebration slid out into the day. A few instances hit (omens, one might call them) that the celebration was meant to be. SUCH AS:

--Donating to the Elizabeth Warren campaign hit all the bases, a femme-centric way to fight true evil, and to help build toward a brighter Spring. It's silly, but even clicking the Donate button, from the intentions of the day, felt like casting a spell.

--None of my friends and acquaintances at the Castro Theatre would go on the record about whether or not they deliberately booked for Walpurgis night Dario Argento's Suspiria (the zenith of the witch movie), but it was of course perfect for the night, the digital restoration bringing to vibrant life the intense reds and blues of Argento's arcane universe (and wrapping the whole thing up with the witches purged by fire). I was dubious about the evening's co-hit, Climax, but the usually misanthropic Gaspar Noe turned in a piece of choreographic wildness that won me over, even as his drive to annihilation manifested in the second half. The two movies had much to say to each other, and together set a perfect mood for the occasion. (Even Castro organist David Hegarty seemed tapped into the holiday, busting out "Some Enchanted Evening" before Suspiria.)

--My neighborhood was quiet upon my return home, save for someone across the street blasting Enya's "Orinoco Flow", an instance no less fraught with significance for being so hilarious.

--And finally, the candle lit at the end of the night did seem to burn off the last remnants of Winter, shining past midnight toward a brighter future that I could, finally, fully sense over the horizon.