Spirits & Souls
My first experience with Halloween I can recollect would have to be in either 1995 or 1996. Perhaps it was ‘95 because I believe my dad graduated Duke in ’96, which is when we moved into our first house as a family. Regardless, my brother and sister were dressed up. We lived in an apartment complex in Durham, and I could see kids by the bunches beginning to go out and fill the complex with joy and laughter from our window behind the couch. They were dressed strange--though I didn’t know what strange was at the time—but they seemed to be having fun, another concept in which I couldn’t define to myself during that time either. Crazy how you can feel things without having the ability to explain them, still happens often as far as I’m concerned.
My parents were helping my brother and sister get their costumes ready. They explained to me they were getting free candy for dressing up from the neighbors. Although I wasn’t familiar with the tradition of Halloween, I was familiar with candy. My mom would give me a piece of candy in what seemed to be once every blue moon, but I savored every time I received a piece. I was excited until I found out I wasn’t going trick or treating. I complained. I screamed. I cried. Still, to no avail, I never went out with my brother and sister that night. They came back with bags full of candy later in the night and were kind enough to share it with me.
The next year, when we moved into a neighborhood, all I remember was playing in my Halloween costumes and ripping 2 of them by the knee area. My second costume was the red power ranger. I was running upstairs playing with my brother when I slid on my knees and the fabric ripped. I don’t remember going out, but I’m sure we all went trick or treating as a family. I picked up on something that year. Although I was the dressed as the red ranger, I wasn’t actually him and I would never have a fight with Lord Zedd or a duel with Master Vile.
This was an important realization for me at that age.
Growing older forced me to reexamine this epiphany and develop it further. By the time I was in 7th grade, I stopped dressing up for Halloween. By the time I was in 9th grade, I claimed to be myself for celebrity day during spirit week. As introspective as I am, I feel there’s things I still can’t see about myself or within myself. At this point in my life, I’m not who I thought I’d be. I can’t tell you how I feel about it, that I’m still attempting to figure out myself. What I can tell you is I’m pretty happy, but I want more. One of my many character flaws is I always feel I can do better. This may seem ambitious at first, but ungratefulness usually rears its ugly head one way or another along the way. Usually when I come across a period of what I deem to be filled with unapprecation, I begin to readdress things. When you reexamine things, you take a look back over the evidence you’ve collected. The only evidence and experience I have to study is who I was and what I’ve done. Both being in the past. I try not to think about the past too much because I’ll end up missing it. Another character flaw I possess is I’m 90% of the time a yesterday-type of person and 9% of the time a tomorrow-type of person. I’m rarely ever a today-type of person, I’m rarely ever here in the moment these days.
After reading many books subjected on the outlook of life, they all agree on one thing; that being here in the now is the most fulfilling way to live. The last time I was truly in the moment had to be before my whole anxiety/depression fiasco, which was in the summer of 2012. From 8th grade to my freshman year in college, I would say I did a pretty good job of living in the moment. I reflect back to who I was during each of the school years between those years and loved who I was back then. I didn’t think of who I was at the time, but I’m sure if I did, I’d be satisfied with him then as I am with him now. Thinking of the many Ratha’s that exist on this timeline of our universe during that span of time (because time is linear), one word comes to mind: innocence.
Although there's a definition of innocence on Merriam-Webster, this remains one of the concepts I cannot clearly articulate to myself. Innocence is simply not being ignorant to the consequences because of the lack of responsibility, it’s more than that. It’s falling in love because you’ve never fallen in love before. It’s staying out late to the point that staying out late equates to being up early. Innocence is something we all lose along the way but never knew we had until we convince ourselves life is better with it by way of nostalgia. By that point, it’s too late.
I wish we could dress in costumes and be who we wanted to be as easily as it is to go out and buy an outfit from party city for $39.99, but unfortunately that's not how things work. Becoming who we want to be takes time, a lot of effort, and patience. It feels good pretending, but pretending isn’t as real as real is. Never was, never will be.
Maybe who I thought I’d be wasn’t meant to be. Maybe I’m not who I thought I’d be because I’m becoming in the meantime. The future me will be able to reflect on the past and give you a concrete answer. Who you were plays a pivotal role in who you will be, the same way an origin plays a part in a destination. Where you begin isn’t everything, but it will shape what routes you take, what you see, and what you ultimately experience in this journey, which in turn will mold who you will become later and who you are now. Like I said, I’m not who I thought I’d be, but I can’t bring myself to blame who I was for not taking the steps to build who I’d hoped to become. I refuse to because my life has been great thus far regardless of what my ambitious ways might tell me at times. I will never regret being filled with so much innocence and joy, I refuse to hold who I was accountable for who I’m not at the moment, which ironically leaves who I am at the moment responsible.
Time to take the mask-off.