This Village moment is brought to you by our friends at the Sept of September...
I found myself awake at 7:15 in the morning. I was hoping for more sleep, but it was not to be. I was too excited; it was a special time. Besides, I had already “slept in.” It may not seem like 7:15 in the morning would constitute “sleeping in” for those of you who live in a bright lit place of late night hustle and daytime people moving, but when you live in a place where life is run by the cycle of milking cows, or a house where life is run by the tongue of licking dogs like I do, it is.
Anyway, when I opened my living room curtains to greet the morning, I realized that I still rose early enough to bear witness to the greatness of the full bloom of a white wall of fog. The entirety of my world was simply erased by heavy, low-lying condensation, a cloud pressed hard on to the ground by something unseen. It was an autumnal miracle, and I was left me feeling...well...cold. I had to put on a sweater. Anyway, it was refreshingly devastated to lay witness to the ending of days. I found peace in the thought that everything in that moment had been taken from me, stolen. All my cares were gone; I was alone.
Yet somehow, I was not alone. No, I share gleefully that there was something else in the thick white of absence. I know, because I saw it. And it saw me. It was watching. So, I watched back. And there we waited, that shadow in the parking lot across the street and I looking out through a wet window. As if on a blank leaf of paper, we waited to be drawn by an unseen artist god. Perhaps, the God Who Eats Green Things had taken it all away. It was still green outside, before the whiteness of empty. I began to think that death was creeping. I began to feel the ancient cold of soil in my bones, of dampness in my marrow. I kept feeling that the shadow was not me, a stranger, an alien, and I was happily terrified. That shadow did not think like me, talk like me, nor look like me. I kept thinking that it could climb walls better than me. And that is the very essence of the Season of Fog, and my personal miracle for this season which I have come to expect from the Sept of September.
The Season of Fog is a very vague, and therefore very hollowed, time for the Sept of September. We celebrate the Season of Fog because there is life in death. We celebrate in our minds, foregoing our bodies. So, in celebration of our beloved and sacred season, I must ask all of you: What is it you see in the fog? We of the Sept of September know that there are dark forces of chemical agents lurking out there, moving faster than our ability to translate, and leaping tall walls in a single bound. We know there is a tentacled beast that can lie to us without blinking its single eye, while reaching into our pockets to steal our money. We of the Sept of September know that, even though we cut and slash at the beast every first Tuesday of November, the tentacles of the slimy, oily creature return anew and turned our lives into living nightmares.
But we of the Sept of September also believe in the good and simple things. We believe in the Rumble on Humbell (Street), that eternal battle between the Sun God Rah and Old Man Winter. We of the Sept of September believe that anything worth living or believing in requires service and sacrifice, mostly sacrifice, so we build huge bonfires in our backyard. It is also why we lead the annual sacrifice of collected lawn scalpings for the God Who Eats Green Things. We of the Sept of September help to make National Fright Night and the annual “Gimme Some Sugar” campaign such wonderful community events, because we believe that a jolt of adrenaline is an important part of a well-balanced diet and daily routine.
At the Sept of September, it is our mission to let it ALL go “bump in the night,” and spread the word “Boo!” for all to hear. Let interlopers come. There is always a good bountiful harvest here at the Sept of September. Darkness is everywhere; so come celebrate camaraderie through isolation...and fire. You can find our little Gothic church at the corner of Fear and Loathing, right in the heart of our fair village. Our services are always at the Witching Hour, just remember to bring your pitch fork, torches, and jack o’lanterns. If not, we have plenty of gourds for carving, pointy things for poking...and effigies for burning. Familiars are only allowed in the church during a full, blood moon.
Please come to the Sept of September the entire Season of Fog. We are celebrating the thinning of the barrier between this world and the next. And then after the service, we will have a panel discussion on the moral and ethical implications this matter has on our lives, and its impact on climate change.
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