Dear wild souls,

There are parts of us that learned to hide long before we had words for why.

The intuitive knowing we second-guessed. The voice we softened. The sensuality we concealed. The power we tried to shrink so we could stay safe, welcome, loved.

Now, in the season of the witch, I feel the call to gather those parts of ourselves around the fire.

Every October, the witch returns to our windows, costumes, and decorations—sometimes playful, sometimes powerful, often reduced to a familiar caricature. Beneath that image lies a history we cannot bypass: real people accused, shamed, imprisoned, tortured and killed. Lives destroyed. Families fractured. Communities taught to fear and turn against their own. The marks of betrayal and persecution run deep.

We can enjoy the play of Halloween and still pause to remember. To listen beneath the cliché. To meet the grief, and ask where the old patterns…