Costume Box

I spent the weekend at the San Jose Doubletree Hotel with a couple thousand Pagans, going to workshops/rituals, meandering through the giant market concourse, visiting with old and new friends, and moderating a panel on psychotherapy and Paganism. Along with my fellow members of Fool’s Journey, I set up the Pagan Alliance suite as a place for restorative relaxation, complete with rosewater scented footbaths, feet and hand scrubs, spritzers of all kinds, relaxing teas, and cucumber slices for the eyes.

As a child, my mother provided my sisters and I with a creatively stocked costume box. One of my sisters consistently dressed up a princess, the other as a cowgirl. My favorite items were a red Navaho skirt with rose trim, an embroidered Mexican blouse, and a golden paisley scarf, which I tied around my head. Yep, that’s right, I loved to pretend I was a gypsy. Later, as part of the Woodstock Nation, these kinds of costumes became my daily attire. My closet at age 21 closely resembled the costume box of my childhood, stocked with vintage finery spanning several decades.

Remnants of my old aesthetic remain in the silver bracelets I’ve worn since 17, but now my style veers towards simple elegant comfort. I’m a respected psychotherapist, for Goddess sake! Bone jewelry, feathers in the hair, pointy hats, face painting, glitter, capes, bustles or corsets no longer have any appeal to me, although these abound at Pantheacon. Embracing the costume box of childhood continues to be a fundamental Pagan virtue. Sometimes I’ve struggled with this, wishing my chosen spirituality could show a more “mature” face to the world, and give up on the little horns so many wear. It’s just not going to happen. Ever.

But what can you expect from a spiritual community that weds mirth to reverence?

This year, I’m embracing the costume box as sacred. Because, it is. I'm just happy (and proud) that the costume my goddess daughter Lyra plucked out to wear involved an In and Out Burger hat. Now, that's creative!!!