Lifestyle Archives – Scott A. Cook

The Autumn Book of Dark Shadows

Opening Invocation 𐕣 Incantation XIII 𐕣 “Every season whispers. Some scream.” ⟬☾⟡⛤⟡☽⟭ Every year, as the August sun begins its slow surrender, I feel it again: the crack in the air, the rustle in the leaves, the scent of something older than memory. While others chase pumpkin spice and sweaters, I chase something far stranger: the portal between the ordinary and the uncanny. From August 29th to November 1st, my days blur into ritual. Films become sacraments. Candles and soaps become spell components. Decorations transform my world into a stage set for the macabre. I call this season not just autumn, but The Autumn Book of Dark Shadows – a living grimoire of the memories, obsessions, and enchantments that have shaped me since childhood. Each page is not written in ink, but in the marrow of memory, and every year, I turn to the pages again. Page I: Autumn on the Farm 𐕣 Incantation XIII 𐕣 “In cornfields deep, where shadows creep, The harvest hides what the children seek.” ⟬☾♄✶♄☽⟭ ✎ “The shadows on the corn stalks were taller than me.” I was a child among barns, fields, and the hiss of wind sweeping through cornstalks. It was there that I first believed in dark shadows – not metaphorical ones, but entities that seemed to linger just beyond my sight. The farm at dusk was not peaceful. It was alive with something unseen: footsteps in the leaf piles, whispers between the hay bales, strange lights shimmering at the tree line. At six years old, I knew autumn was magical, but I also knew it could be dangerous. Page II: Michael Myers 𐕣 Incantation XLVII 𐕣 “The Shape walks slow, yet never sleeps.He waits, he waits, he waits.” ⟬☾⛧†⛧☽⟭ ✎ “1978. Halloween. My initiation into terror. My first horror movie.” Halloween devastated me the first time I saw it. Free HBO. Eight years old. Alone. True story. Michael Myers did not just frighten me. He rewired me. That pale mask, that steady walk – it was as if the shadows outside my window had finally taken shape. To this day, I sometimes half-expect to look out into my yard on a cool October night and see him, standing there, silent, inevitable. It was not fear alone that bound me to him. It was obsession. That film transformed me from a scared little kid into a lifelong adult horror devotee. ✎ “It was the Boogeyman.” Page III: Hocus Pocus 𐕣 Incantation VIII 𐕣 “By candle’s flame, the black fire burns,The sisters rise, the wheel returns.” ⟬☾☿✶☿☽⟭ ✎ “The first bell toll of Samhain.” 1993 brought Hocus Pocus, and with it, a ritual. Every August 29th, it is the first film I play. It is my autumn incantation, a spell to unlock the doorway into Halloween. It is campy, yes, but it is also pure enchantment. The cobblestone streets, the black flame candle, the witches who never die. It all is Halloween, bottled into a perfect brew. And sometimes, I let myself slip into the fantasy that I am one of the characters, living in Salem, where magic is always waiting. Page IV: Trick ’r Treat 𐕣 Incantation XXIX 𐕣 “Keep the rules, or blood will flow,Sam is watching, this you know.” ⟬☾⛓◯⛓☽⟭ ✎ “Sam is the keeper of the rules.” Immediately after Hocus Pocus comes Trick ’r Treat. The ritual is precise. One film summons the whimsy; the other locks in the dread. Trick ’r Treat is not just a movie—it is folklore. It feels older than it is, stitched together from campfire tales and the bloodied pages of graphic novels. It reminds me that Halloween has rules, and that those rules are sacred. Break them, and you pay the price. Page V: Decorations on Cypress Street 𐕣 Incantation XCIV 𐕣 “Gravestones rise, the fog rolls in,A haunted house, where fears begin.” ⟬☾⌂✶⌂☽⟭ ✎ “Spooky House, loud whispers, candle glow.” As a young adult, I claimed a house on Cypress Street and turned it into a legend. Every October, our ¾-acre yard became a theater of shadows. Gravestones rose from the ground, fog machines breathed like dragons, skeletons rattled in the trees. The neighborhood christened us The Spooky House. There is a certain magic in creating not just decorations, but an atmosphere—a place where children screamed in delight, and adults lingered, remembering what it felt like to believe. Page VI: Candles & Soaps 𐕣 Incantation LXII 𐕣 “Apple’s bite and pumpkin flame,Scented smoke, the spirits claim.” ⟬☾╎✶╎☽⟭ ✎ “Aromas are portals to another dimension.” If visuals conjure the world, scents are what bind it. Autumn arrives in my home through wicks and wax. Bath & Body Works becomes my co-conspirator. Pumpkin Clove. Ghoul Friend. Wicked Vanilla Woods. These are not just fragrances. They are spells that seep into the walls, lingering long after October ends. I burn them as though they are offerings to the season itself. Page VII: Music of the Shadows 𐕣 Incantation III 𐕣 “Strike the keys, the violins cry,Ghosts awaken when echoes fly.” ⟬☾♩†♭☽⟭ ✎ “Every October has a soundtrack.” The days and nights are scored with soundtracks: Carpenter’s synthesizers, Goblin’s prog-horror riffs. But when I want to descend deeper, I turn to Midnight Syndicate and Nox Arcana. Their gothic instrumentals are not background. They are invocations. They transform ordinary rooms into haunted cathedrals, backyards into graveyards, kitchens into candlelit chapels of shadow. Their music is the heartbeat of my October rituals. The Final Page: Samhain’s Threshold 𐕣 Incantation LXXVII 𐕣 “On All Hallows, the veil grows thin,The shadows close, but call me in.” †☾⚰†⚰☽† ✎ “Nov 1: the book closes, but the shadows remain.” And then, as fast as it came, the season ends. November 1st arrives, and the veil closes. But not without residue. Every year, as I walk

Entertainment, Halloween, Horror, Lifestyle / Scott A. Cook

The Autumn Book of Dark Shadows Read More »

Borrowed Anxiety: How Doomscrolling Warps Our Shared Reality

What the actual fuck is ‘Doomscrolling’? I swear, our country creates the most useless, stupid labels on the planet. Oh, America. To answer the question, doomscrolling is America’s new rollercoaster – a ride we never asked to board. Each swipe of our phone drags us higher with headlines of chaos, then plunges us into loops of fear, outrage, and despair. Unlike a theme park ride, there’s no thrill at the end – only exhaustion that lingers long after we put down the phone. I don’t doomscroll. I’ve never fallen into the habit of endlessly refreshing news feeds, chasing the next piece of grim information, or tumbling down rabbit holes of outrage. But I’ve watched people I care about do it, and I’ve noticed something that worries me deeply: they come away carrying stress that doesn’t even belong to them. It isn’t their tragedy. It isn’t their burden. But after a half-hour of scrolling headlines, they look heavier, more worn down. Their anxiety has been borrowed, absorbed from a stream of strangers, and it clings to them like second-hand smoke. That’s the heart of what doomscrolling does: it transfers the world’s suffering into our pockets, then into our minds, until we feel it as though it were our own. And while empathy is one of the best parts of being human, borrowed anxiety doesn’t make us kinder or more connected – it makes us fearful, exhausted, and divided. Doomscrolling as a Psychological Transaction Current articles online will describe doomscrolling as a bad habit: people get stuck scrolling, can’t stop, and wind up anxious. That’s true – but it doesn’t capture the deeper psychological exchange at work. When you doomscroll, you’re not just reading the news. You’re engaging in a kind of anxiety transaction: • Input: endless negative headlines, disasters, scandals, and tragedies. • Exchange: your brain takes on stress hormones – cortisol, adrenaline. • Output: you carry that stress into your mood, your relationships, and your worldview. The brain confuses exposure with involvement. If you read about wildfires, violence, or corruption for long enough, it feels like these threats are not only constantly happening but also directly pressing on your personal safety. Your nervous system doesn’t know the difference between your neighborhood and the full-blown chaos three states away. The irony? Most people doomscroll not because they like feeling bad, but because it gives the illusion of control: “If I just know more, I’ll be better prepared.” But the knowledge isn’t preparation. It’s paralysis. The Cost of Borrowed Anxiety Borrowed anxiety doesn’t just live in the mind. It spreads like that wild fire you just read about fifteen montes ago: • In households: families argue more, not about personal conflicts, but about the issues they’ve absorbed from online outrage. • In workplaces: doomscrolling during breaks leads to increased irritability and distraction when people return to tasks. • In communities: conversations shift from sharing hope to sharing despair, from solutions to cynicism. On a larger scale, borrowed anxiety distorts our shared reality. If enough people believe the world is collapsing – regardless of actual data – society begins to behave as though collapse is inevitable. Hopelessness becomes a kind of self-fulfilling prophecy. That’s the hidden danger: doomscrolling doesn’t just harm individuals; it shapes the mood of an entire culture. A Compassionate Concern I want to be clear: I don’t see doomscrollers as weak, ignorant, or foolish. Quite the opposite. Most people who doomscroll are deeply empathetic. They care about what’s happening in the world, and they don’t want to look away from suffering. The problem is that algorithms exploit empathy. Social platforms are designed to reward outrage, fear, and sensationalism. The more you care, the more you click. The more you click, the more the system feeds you reasons to worry. It’s like empathy weaponized against itself. People want to stay informed, but the firehose of negativity leaves them hopeless instead of empowered. From the outside, it’s painful to watch. I don’t doomscroll, but I live with its ripple effects. I see how borrowed anxiety changes the tone of conversations, how it darkens moods, how it keeps people up at night. And I wonder, what kind of future are we building if we all carry stress that isn’t ours to bear? Moving Toward a Healthier Information Diet If borrowed anxiety spreads through constant exposure, the way forward is not total disconnection. Shutting out all news is its own form of denial. The goal isn’t ignorance – it’s balance. Here are a few approaches that may help: 1) Choose a single trusted source.Instead of grazing across dozens of feeds, commit to one or two outlets you believe in. Trustworthiness matters more than speed. 2) Set a time boundary.Pick a specific time of day to check the news – and stick to it. Constant updates create constant unease. 3) Replace passive scrolling with active reading.Reading a long form article or analysis engages the mind more deeply and constructively than skimming headlines. 4) Balance negative input with solution-based news.There are outlets dedicated to reporting progress, innovation, and resilience. Seek them out to remind yourself that not every story is catastrophe. 5) Ask: “Does this truly belong to me?”Before absorbing a story, pause and ask whether this anxiety is yours to carry. Sometimes compassion means action – donating, volunteering, calling representatives. Other times compassion means acknowledging the pain but not internalizing it. What Would It Feel Like to Stop Borrowing Anxiety? I often wonder how American society would feel if we weren’t burdened with each other’s constant fear. Imagine walking into a conversation where people were sharing ideas instead of outrage, curiosity instead of cynicism. Imagine logging onto social media and seeing stories of resilience

Chronic Illness, Health, Human Condition, Lifestyle, Opinion / Scott A. Cook

Borrowed Anxiety: How Doomscrolling Warps Our Shared Reality Read More »

The Charm of Witchcraft: Why Magic is Just Another Religion

The following article is a delightful account of my intrigue and exploration into the world of Witchcraft. It is a positive look at what many people consider as “evil”. I am in no way endorsing nor denying Witchcraft. For me, it’s just another serendipitous stop along the rail of the Hot Mess Express! Introduction ✎ “If religion had a quirky cousin who liked tarot cards, houseplants, and the occasional crystal, it would be Witchcraft. And honestly? That cousin sounds kinda of fun.” Over the past few years, I’ve wandered through grimoires, blogs, and personal accounts of witches and witchcraft. No hoods, no curses – just people who believe in magic, rituals, and the power of intention. What struck me most? Witchcraft is basically a religion… with just a little glitter, a lot of personal flair, and maybe some lavender-scented incense. The glitter isn’t just aesthetic; it’s a metaphor. For those who practice, witchcraft adds a playful, mindful layer to everyday life. It encourages focus, intention, and connection with the world around them. And yes, it’s fun to imagine casting a “spell” on your Monday coffee cup to make it taste just a little better! Reframing Witchcraft ✎ “Magic isn’t about dragons and curses – it’s about making your own life a little more intentional.” Forget the Hollywood version. Witchcraft is fundamentally a belief system. It has ethics, practices, and a moral framework. Magic is less about changing the universe with a flick of the wrist, and more about changing yourself. Your mindset, your habits, your awareness. Think of it as spiritual engineering. Want a better day? Light a candle and set an intention. Want to connect with nature? Observe the moon phases, the seasonal cycles, or even the way your houseplants stretch toward the sunlight. Want clarity? Shuffle a tarot deck and see what the cards reveal – then maybe chuckle if a cat decides to nap on top of your deck. Personal anecdote: As an adult, my first brush with witchcraft was in Key West, FL. My BFF, Barb, and I were wandering the shops of Duvall Street, the heart of Key West, when suddenly, I saw a tent-like structure across the street lined with colorful scarves, dusty vintage signs and shimmering crystals. We crossed the street and found a medium who, for a mere ten dollars, would do a Celtic Cross reading of the tarot cards. As the lovely woman laid out the cards, she could tell I felt scared and she simple said, “Calm.” Just like that, all my preconceived notions of the occult left my head. My reading? Well, as for most, that is personal but I will say the woman taught me that what she saw and spoke was up for extreme interpretation. She also taught me that, “One day, you’ll remember.” And years later… she was right. The Joy of Rituals and Tools Rituals aren’t scary—they’re intentional acts with tangible tools. A few common items you might encounter: ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽🔮☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ Candles: Set intentions, mark phases of the moon, or just make your space feel cozy. Tarot cards: Not fortune-telling doom, but prompts for reflection and insight. Crystals: Physical reminders to focus energy or meditate. Oils and herbs: Aromatherapy, ritual baths, or simple mindfulness cues. Moon and seasonal cycles: Timing rituals according to natural rhythms. ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽🔮☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ These practices make abstract ideas tangible and create a space for reflection. And yes, some of them are funny when you’re a newbie: trying to meditate with a crystal in your pocket and finding it slipped into your shoe. Personal anecdote: I have always been attracted to crystals and the practice of drawing on their energy for personal growth. Crystals do have an end date for their usefulness but I learned all you need to do is place them out in the sun or a waning moon to “recharge” them. How simple is that! I choose the night under a waning moon. I carefully placed about ten or more crystals on an aluminum tray and took them outside into my backyard around midnight. I laid the tray in the wet grass with care. The sky was clear and the waning moon was bright. I was at peace and couldn’t wait to get back my newly revived crystals the next day. The following morning, as I stepped outside to an upside down tray and most of the crystals gone or hidden in the grass, I quickly learned that raccoons like crystals, too! Why Witchcraft is Positive & Educational ✎ “At its heart, witchcraft is less about casting spells and more about casting light on how we learn, reflect, and grow.” Witchcraft teaches patience, attention, and respect for cycles – moon cycles, seasons, even personal growth cycles. It encourages responsibility: if you intend to do good, you try to do good. Other benefits include: Mindfulness: Observing rituals, herbal preparations, or simple candle lighting. Connection: With nature, community, or oneself. Reflection: Journaling, tarot, or intention-setting acts as a kind of daily self-assessment disguised as magic. Creativity: Rituals encourage imagination and playful thinking – important for personal growth. A Thought to Ponder: Even if you don’t believe in “magic” per se, there’s value in using symbolic tools to focus your mind and intention. Actually we do it all the time: daily journaling, wearing a crucifix, brewing a nice tea for sleepy time. Given the parallel, skeptics might just admire the practice of “magic”, if just from afar. Addressing the “Witchcraft as the Devil” Myth Let’s tackle the big pink elephant in the broomstick closet: the idea that witches secretly consort with the devil. Historically, this myth arose from religious fear, political manipulation, and a dash of creative storytelling (thank you, 15th-17th centuries). Reality check: Most modern witchcraft is entirely secular or nature-based. It does not involve demons, hellfire, or goat sacrifices. The “devil” association is cultural folklore, not

Entertainment, Lifestyle, Opinion / Scott A. Cook

The Charm of Witchcraft: Why Magic is Just Another Religion Read More »