Category Archives: superstition

On Van Helsing

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Professor Van Helsing is a tribute to rational empiricism that has met the supernatural and had to back off because the experience did not square with reality. I like Van Helsing because he is so grounded in his science and empiricism that he is the true paradigm of rational thinking and practice. Yet, Van Helsing is faced with a situation that does not fit within the neat theories and hypothesis of his enlightened scientific experience. Through observation and experimentation, Van Helsing has cast his lot in life far from emotion, superstition, irrationality, and the supernatural. He writes books, carries out experiments, teaches his classes, is a paradigm of the enlightened scientist, the rock on which we build our reality. Yet, his situation, though a completely imaginary one, is problematic in the sense that he is faced with the larger problem of a reality–an undead, dead person–that cannot exist in his world. The philosophical implications of facing the existence of Dracula are vast and troubling. You are either a rational empiricist who cannot “believe” in such things, or you abandon your empiricism and throw in with the holy water, garlic, cross, and stake. Our empiricism protects us from foolish pseudo-science such as astrology, palmistry, quiromancy, numerology, tarot, Big Foot, the Loch Ness monster, werewolves, vampires, and necromancy, but is that all there is in this world? I have always sided with Hamlet: There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, / Than are dreamt of in your philosophy. – Hamlet (1.5.167-8). Still, the philosophical problem persists even if only in our imaginations, hoping against hope that we never have to face this situation in the real world.

On Halloween

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Costumes, candy, horror stories, parties, and lots of strange behavior mark the final day of October. I think that most mainstream religion visibly cringes at the religious tones of the holiday, or just relaxes and accepts it openly as one of those strange manifestations of supernatural belief that can neither be denied nor dismissed. There exists a carnivalesque atmosphere that draws people in who dress as zombies, politicians, monsters, superheroes, or whatever as an expression of the innermost desires to be heard and seen as something other than what they are during a routine day. Halloween is definitely a break from the routine, a break from the established social orders, a break from the sadness that often crowds into our daily lives. People wear masks, or perhaps they take one off. They eat candy–lots of it. Perhaps what people are doing with Halloween is confronting their fears–of the darkness, of the unknown, of the future, of economic ruin, of joblessness, of death. The dark, festive nature of Halloween is attractive because it speaks to the repressed desires that lurk just off camera for most people. Whether those desires are sexual, or violent, or perverse, or gluttonous, or lazy is the thing that brings out the ghosts and goblins on the last day of October. The year is winding down, summer is over, and the year is drawing to a close, boredom is creeping in from all sides. Halloween is a salute to our darker natures, the hidden ego, which, for one day a year, gets a chance to go out on the town and play.

On Halloween

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Costumes, candy, horror stories, parties, and lots of strange behavior mark the final day of October. I think that most mainstream religion visibly cringes at the religious tones of the holiday, or just relaxes and accepts it openly as one of those strange manifestations of supernatural belief that can neither be denied nor dismissed. There exists a carnivalesque atmosphere that draws people in who dress as zombies, politicians, monsters, superheroes, or whatever as an expression of the innermost desires to be heard and seen as something other than what they are during a routine day. Halloween is definitely a break from the routine, a break from the established social orders, a break from the sadness that often crowds into our daily lives. People wear masks, or perhaps they take one off. They eat candy–lots of it. Perhaps what people are doing with Halloween is confronting their fears–of the darkness, of the unknown, of the future, of economic ruin, of joblessness, of death. The dark, festive nature of Halloween is attractive because it speaks to the repressed desires that lurk just off camera for most people. Whether those desires are sexual, or violent, or perverse, or gluttonous, or lazy is the thing that brings out the ghosts and goblins on the last day of October. The year is winding down, summer is over, and the year is drawing to a close, boredom is creeping in from all sides. Halloween is a salute to our darker natures, the hidden ego, which, for one day a year, gets a chance to go out on the town and play.

On pumpkins

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Do you think that carving horrifying and creepy faces into large orange gourds and illuminating them from the inside out with a candle is odd? America’s fascination and obsession with this bizarre, if not oddly repressive, tradition is, without a doubt, weird. No one carves faces into other large vegetables, so why mess with pumpkins? Sure, they are about the same size as a human head, they are hollow, and they are this striking orange color, but how does all of that add up to the tradition of carving an ugly face into the front of the thing? I understand that as human beings we need safe avenues of expression for our fears, repressed memories, nightmares, scary visions and the like, but carving pumpkins for Halloween is a bit of a mystery even if you invoke a completely Freudian interpretation of the carving act. The kids tend to love this activity, and as a child I always tried to outdo myself by making the fangs sharper, the eyes more evil, the nose more fiendish. In Spanish we have a word for the distorted pumpkin heads which are created: esperpento, which speaks to the exaggerated monstrosity represented by the disfigured and hideous face of the pumpkin. It’s as if we need to create something truly ugly and display it for the whole world to see. The creation of the monstrous face speaks most clearly to a series of ancient harvest celebrations and the superstitious traditions associated with it that have grown into the practice of Halloween. Many sources will defend the Christian associations with the celebration of Halloween and ceremonies for the remembrance of the dead, but the actual practices of Halloween proceed from a much murkier past that has long since been forgotten that has to do with forest spirits, monsters, ghosts, and fear. The “Jack-O-Lantern” or illuminated carved pumpkin seems to embody this fall festival as people make light of what scares them, admitting that they not only fear death, but that they also fear those things that go “bump” in the night. Halloween is that opportunity to recognize our basest fears: the dark, death, wild animals, nuclear weapons, the economy, and even fear itself. People express their fears and repressions in different ways, not the least of which is carving pumpkins and later dressing up like their favorite superhero. All of this is very irrational, but who ever said that fear is rational? We carve the pumpkin because we want to control that which frightens us, so the pumpkin becomes a mirror for us as we probe the dark side to our souls in search of those things that have no face, that reside in the shadows, the moan and growl, that have sharp teeth, that shape-shift and change. The fact that we do this once a year just before the onset of winter suggests that although most of our community is populated by rational empiricists who reject all superstition and irrational practices, there are still a huge part of the human experience that is at once irrational and inexplicable—logic falls short of its goal, and we end up scooping a bunch of pumpkin innards out on the kitchen table. I think that carving pumpkins into Jack-O-Lanterns serves some psychological purpose of letting the carver “get it out of his/her system” so to speak, that carving pumpkins is a healthy psychological practice that points to mental health and a firm grasp of reality. That said, I haven’t carved a pumpkin in ten years.

On pumpkins

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Do you think that carving horrifying and creepy faces into large orange gourds and illuminating them from the inside out with a candle is odd? America’s fascination and obsession with this bizarre, if not oddly repressive, tradition is, without a doubt, weird. No one carves faces into other large vegetables, so why mess with pumpkins? Sure, they are about the same size as a human head, they are hollow, and they are this striking orange color, but how does all of that add up to the tradition of carving an ugly face into the front of the thing? I understand that as human beings we need safe avenues of expression for our fears, repressed memories, nightmares, scary visions and the like, but carving pumpkins for Halloween is a bit of a mystery even if you invoke a completely Freudian interpretation of the carving act. The kids tend to love this activity, and as a child I always tried to outdo myself by making the fangs sharper, the eyes more evil, the nose more fiendish. In Spanish we have a word for the distorted pumpkin heads which are created: esperpento, which speaks to the exaggerated monstrosity represented by the disfigured and hideous face of the pumpkin. It’s as if we need to create something truly ugly and display it for the whole world to see. The creation of the monstrous face speaks most clearly to a series of ancient harvest celebrations and the superstitious traditions associated with it that have grown into the practice of Halloween. Many sources will defend the Christian associations with the celebration of Halloween and ceremonies for the remembrance of the dead, but the actual practices of Halloween proceed from a much murkier past that has long since been forgotten that has to do with forest spirits, monsters, ghosts, and fear. The “Jack-O-Lantern” or illuminated carved pumpkin seems to embody this fall festival as people make light of what scares them, admitting that they not only fear death, but that they also fear those things that go “bump” in the night. Halloween is that opportunity to recognize our basest fears: the dark, death, wild animals, nuclear weapons, the economy, and even fear itself. People express their fears and repressions in different ways, not the least of which is carving pumpkins and later dressing up like their favorite superhero. All of this is very irrational, but who ever said that fear is rational? We carve the pumpkin because we want to control that which frightens us, so the pumpkin becomes a mirror for us as we probe the dark side to our souls in search of those things that have no face, that reside in the shadows, the moan and growl, that have sharp teeth, that shape-shift and change. The fact that we do this once a year just before the onset of winter suggests that although most of our community is populated by rational empiricists who reject all superstition and irrational practices, there are still a huge part of the human experience that is at once irrational and inexplicable—logic falls short of its goal, and we end up scooping a bunch of pumpkin innards out on the kitchen table. I think that carving pumpkins into Jack-O-Lanterns serves some psychological purpose of letting the carver “get it out of his/her system” so to speak, that carving pumpkins is a healthy psychological practice that points to mental health and a firm grasp of reality. That said, I haven’t carved a pumpkin in ten years.

On mermaids

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No, I haven’t seen any lately. As a medievalist I am painfully aware that the people I study and write about had mermaid issues. The medieval world was full of creatures that have long since faded into extinction. Unicorns, you don’t see as many unicorns as you used to either, but mermaids have pretty much faded from the collective consciousness of mankind, except for sailors and other seafaring types. The mermaid, a half-female, half-fish, is a hybrid creature that arises directly out of the subconscious of unruly minds and over-active imaginations. I think. Sailors have spotted them across the globe, resting on the rocks of faraway wild lands into which civilization had not yet crept. Hybrid creatures, though not too uncommon–the platypus and the bat, for example–are not what most people expect. The griffin, the centaur or the minotaur are three hybrid species which are both misunderstood and feared and are often difficult to find these days. Mermaids are problematic in the sense that they seem to provoke desire in the sailors viewing them. The male gaze goes berserk, runs amok, you might say with sexual desire while viewing these creatures. Freud would probably say that mermaids don’t exist at all and are only the product of an overactive imagination and a repressed libido. Although the rational empiricist might buy such drivel, I think mermaids should be shown the benefit of the doubt about their very existence. That they should flee from civilization should come as no surprise. Outsiders would just try to capture them and either enslave them or put them on display. Capitalism just works that way. That they should be shy and retiring should also come as no surprise since they often have to deal with half-crazed out-of-control sailors who are probably in danger sailing too close to the rocks to see the mermaids. Mermaids turn out to be their own kind of hazard–attractive, but dangerous. Ships don’t sail very well unless they have water under their keel, not nasty rocks or dangerous reefs. The existence of mermaids suggests the existence of mermen as well, but neither artists nor scientists have dealt with this obvious problem. I have nothing to say about merchildren, perhaps they only ever come ashore when they are adults. There have been many documentaries made about mermaids, and the mythology concerning mermaids and their desire to have legs is well-known. The obvious clothing-optional issues of merpeople present serious problems for filming or photographing these beings, unless shells and hair are strategically placed to prevent Victorian repressions from being provoked or assaulted. If you see a mermaid on any of your future voyages, you would be well-advised to keep sailing and leave well-enough alone.

On mermaids

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No, I haven’t seen any lately. As a medievalist I am painfully aware that the people I study and write about had mermaid issues. The medieval world was full of creatures that have long since faded into extinction. Unicorns, you don’t see as many unicorns as you used to either, but mermaids have pretty much faded from the collective consciousness of mankind, except for sailors and other seafaring types. The mermaid, a half-female, half-fish, is a hybrid creature that arises directly out of the subconscious of unruly minds and over-active imaginations. I think. Sailors have spotted them across the globe, resting on the rocks of faraway wild lands into which civilization had not yet crept. Hybrid creatures, though not too uncommon–the platypus and the bat, for example–are not what most people expect. The griffin, the centaur or the minotaur are three hybrid species which are both misunderstood and feared and are often difficult to find these days. Mermaids are problematic in the sense that they seem to provoke desire in the sailors viewing them. The male gaze goes berserk, runs amok, you might say with sexual desire while viewing these creatures. Freud would probably say that mermaids don’t exist at all and are only the product of an overactive imagination and a repressed libido. Although the rational empiricist might buy such drivel, I think mermaids should be shown the benefit of the doubt about their very existence. That they should flee from civilization should come as no surprise. Outsiders would just try to capture them and either enslave them or put them on display. Capitalism just works that way. That they should be shy and retiring should also come as no surprise since they often have to deal with half-crazed out-of-control sailors who are probably in danger sailing too close to the rocks to see the mermaids. Mermaids turn out to be their own kind of hazard–attractive, but dangerous. Ships don’t sail very well unless they have water under their keel, not nasty rocks or dangerous reefs. The existence of mermaids suggests the existence of mermen as well, but neither artists nor scientists have dealt with this obvious problem. I have nothing to say about merchildren, perhaps they only ever come ashore when they are adults. There have been many documentaries made about mermaids, and the mythology concerning mermaids and their desire to have legs is well-known. The obvious clothing-optional issues of merpeople present serious problems for filming or photographing these beings, unless shells and hair are strategically placed to prevent Victorian repressions from being provoked or assaulted. If you see a mermaid on any of your future voyages, you would be well-advised to keep sailing and leave well-enough alone.

On black cats

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Black cats seem to be an evolutionary oddity.  Being as black as night doesn’t seem to be the best camouflage for a predator, especially in daylight.  The fact that there are black cats seems to contradict this idea, but natural selection plays no favorites: those will qualities that will promote the production of the next generation will be those qualities that are passed on, and although natural selection is not really that simple, it does raise the question, why black cats? What is it about black cats that makes them successful?  Does the success of the black cat lie outside of the cat itself?  In other words, have people influenced their success in a positive way because people like black cats? Are black cats aesthetically pleasing to have around?  Of course, some superstitious people have created the myth that black cats are bad luck, especially if they cross your path, that black cats are associated with witchcraft, that black cats are incarnated evil spirits, especially evil female spirits. I do not believe in good or bad luck. These are external values that we create in our minds to explain the things that happen in our lives, but good and bad things happen, and many accidental things–weather, geophysics, third parties–are completely out of our control, but good luck or bad luck are inventions of our minds that have nothing to do with the empirical world.  Bad luck is nothing but a specific non-objective interpretation of events. That we would associate a certain color animal with bad luck is irrational and frivolous. A black cat in Texas, for example, just needs to stay out of the sun, but the completely black cat is a study in feline design, a predator with sharp teeth and nasty claws ready to kill at a moment’s notice, just like any other cat, Tabby or Persian, white or party-color. In other words, black cats are not much different than Bengal Tiger, except they can purr, tigers roar. I imagine that black cats, like most other less flamingly decorated cats, only want to be fed, left alone, played with–you know, cat life, and that black cats probably don’t even realize that they are black cats or that they have special evil bad luck powers.  People project their own weird obsessions and repressions on small, strangely colored predators for no reason at all.  Do white cats have special powers as well?

On black cats

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Black cats seem to be an evolutionary oddity.  Being as black as night doesn’t seem to be the best camouflage for a predator, especially in daylight.  The fact that there are black cats seems to contradict this idea, but natural selection plays no favorites: those will qualities that will promote the production of the next generation will be those qualities that are passed on, and although natural selection is not really that simple, it does raise the question, why black cats? What is it about black cats that makes them successful?  Does the success of the black cat lie outside of the cat itself?  In other words, have people influenced their success in a positive way because people like black cats? Are black cats aesthetically pleasing to have around?  Of course, some superstitious people have created the myth that black cats are bad luck, especially if they cross your path, that black cats are associated with witchcraft, that black cats are incarnated evil spirits, especially evil female spirits. I do not believe in good or bad luck. These are external values that we create in our minds to explain the things that happen in our lives, but good and bad things happen, and many accidental things–weather, geophysics, third parties–are completely out of our control, but good luck or bad luck are inventions of our minds that have nothing to do with the empirical world.  Bad luck is nothing but a specific non-objective interpretation of events. That we would associate a certain color animal with bad luck is irrational and frivolous. A black cat in Texas, for example, just needs to stay out of the sun, but the completely black cat is a study in feline design, a predator with sharp teeth and nasty claws ready to kill at a moment’s notice, just like any other cat, Tabby or Persian, white or party-color. In other words, black cats are not much different than Bengal Tiger, except they can purr, tigers roar. I imagine that black cats, like most other less flamingly decorated cats, only want to be fed, left alone, played with–you know, cat life, and that black cats probably don’t even realize that they are black cats or that they have special evil bad luck powers.  People project their own weird obsessions and repressions on small, strangely colored predators for no reason at all.  Do white cats have special powers as well?