Today is ‘Dia de Los Muertos’ – ‘Day of the Dead – November 2nd, every year. The first time I learned about Day of the Dead was the Disney movie “Coco” and as a result, I wanted to learn more about the Mexican holiday known as Dia de Los Muertos.
On November 2nd, ‘literary calaveras’ (satirical poems in which the poet writes about ‘Death’ taking someone to the land of the dead) are shared; altars (ofrenda) are made to remember someone who has died; and families visit the grave of loved ones, sometimes bringing a sugar skull to leave on the gravesite.
“Bringing a sugar skull to leave on the graveside?” What’s that all about? While I enjoy walking through cemeteries, am not afraid of death, or uncomfortable being with people who are dying, somehow, the thought of creating a skull and bringing it to leave on a gravestone, was a difficult concept to comprehend. Clearly it was time for me to do some research.
I learned that the tradition goes back to prehistoric times when people believed in a spiritual life after death and made an offering to the god of the underworld (Mictlantechutli) who was expected to guarantee safe passage to his world. Interesting! More research needed … and doing that, I learned that at that time, brightly coloured sugar skulls were part of the offering to Mictlantechutli, but, when Spanish conquerers arrived (all offering except for the colourful skull made of a sweet confection which was often placed in home altars as part of the offering to the deceased) were lost.
Then, in more recent times in Mexico, Dia de Los Muertos became a holiday – a holiday around death – and a very, very colourful one at that!
While I have no Mexican ancestry, I have never liked the idea of wearing black as a sign of mourning. Rather, I like the idea of celebrating … remembering the deceased with joy … wearing anything-but-black to funerals because for me, when family and friends have died, they are never entirely ‘gone’ … I keep them alive in my heart and in my memories.
I have a strong belief that I’ll re-connect with loved ones again … in some way. Not in a way I can explain – but ‘some way.’ Is that a certainty? No. No one can prove that such a re-connection can or will happen. But … is it possible? Why no?!
I’m a “possibility-thinker.” And until scientifically proven otherwise, I am going to continue to believe that when I die, in some form, in some way, loved ones and I will re-connect.
And in the meantime, time to celebrate (albeit belatedly), Dia de Los Muertos and remember my parents, my siblings, my husband, my grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins and friends who have all departed this life. It is a special day to remember them with joy, celebration, and colour … and maybe create another sugar skull, Zentangle® style. 🙂
Thanks to Mexican culture for teaching me about this unique “Day of the Dead.”
November, welcome! In this part of the world , you bring wind. You bring rain. And politically this year, you bring ongoing devastations of war, growing tension, escalating fear and great global uncertainty. But I don’t want to focus on those.
Where I live, November has been known to be an opportunity to making time to experience a sense of calm. It’s intentional calmness — by slowing down … becoming more involved in our art/craft/hobby … curling up by the fire … getting lost in a great book … making comfort foods … being creative … catching up with friends by phone and mail … be-ing hopeful.
Yes, being hopeful. There is always hope. Perhaps not tangible. Perhaps not visible these days. But hope exists.
How is hope here if we are feeling fearful, isolated, uncertain? It’s here, because hope is here in us. We are the hope. We are the hope that after November … there will be a December … and a January … and a February, etc.
And that hope is not just for ourselves, but it is for those living in refugee camps, those at borders trying to cross and leave war-torn areas, those being arrested by ICE, those uncertain about being able to afford to buy food to feed themselves/their families, those making decisions about what to do when it comes to paying for medicine/doctor’s visits/hospitalizations with all of the medical insurance rises.
We cannot lose hope – because if we do, what are the ones who can see no hope (beyond the possibility of a glass of water, a crust of bread, a loved one released from the prison of a building that collapsed), what are they going to do?
May we take each month as it comes. May we take each week as it comes. May we take day as it comes. May we take each moment as it comes and look to this month of November as a month where courage will be found and where hope will prevail. Welcome, November.
For many around the world, last night was All Hallow’s Eve (Hallowe’en). Today is All Saints Day. Tomorrow is both All Souls Day and Dia de los Muertos (Day of the Dead). Together, the three days form what is known as “AllHallowTide.”
If you’ve seen the movie “Coco,” you’ll understand why I think of all of the days of AllHallowTide (October 31 – November 2nd) as “thin places.“
Thin Places – what is that? What does it reference? Celtic spirituality refers to “thin places” as places where the veil between this world and the eternal/Other world is thin, and where one can walk in two worlds as the Other world is more near.
Hallowe’en, All Saints Day, All Souls Day, and Día de los Muertos are “thin places” – where those gone before us can be remembered via cultural rituals and religious services.
Saints? Who are “saints”? Are saints people like St. Francis of Assisi, St. Hilda of Whitby, St. Hildegaard of Bingen, etc.? Yes – but for me, they’re not the ‘only’ saints.
I think of a saint as ‘someone the light shines through.’ The ‘ordinary’ saints … such as those who died and are dying, this very moment, because of war, hunger, poverty, violence, racism, politics … those whose “light has shone” at some time.
I think of … my parents, Joy and Eddie Mack … my husband Hans van der Werff … my brothers Eric Mack and Gerry Mack and sisters Lois Lucas and Fran Talbot. All gone from this earth, but not gone from memory or gratitude for their presence in my life. The Light of Love shone through each of them and my life was blessed.
I remember my teachers and mentors (especially Mrs. Lancey, Mr. Snyder, Miss Smith, the Reverend Jack Major) for the light of their mentorship, knowledge and love which “shone” through each of them and others I have been privileged to know and learn from over the years as ‘saints.’
At this time in history, I think of those who are standing up, speaking out for the voiceless, resisting fascism, encouraging the discouraged as ‘saints’ living in the ‘thin places’ of today.
Mahatma Ghandi (In his Spiritual Message to the World in 1931) seemed to speak of ‘thin places‘ when he said: “There is an indefinable, mysterious power that pervades everything. I feel it, though I do not see it. It is this unseen power that makes itself felt and yet defies all proof, because it is so unlike all that I perceive through my senses. It transcends the senses.“
The words of Linda Hogan (in her book “Dwellings”) brings the Celtic understanding of ‘thin places’ to a gentle place of understanding for me: “Suddenly, all my ancestors are behind me. ‘Be still. Watch and listen. You are the result of the love of thousands” they say.” First Nations peoples in Canada and Indigenous peoples around the world speak gently of their “ancestors” with great reverence and understanding. Some religious people pay homage to their ancestors with phrases such as “May their memory be a blessing” and “May s/he rest in peace.”
AllHallowTide for me is, indeed, a ‘thin place’ – a hallowed time – of connection with saints.
May we honour their memories, their wisdom, love, sacrifice, dedication with gratitude and remembrance. And may their memory be a blessing and may they rest in peace for all eternity.
A big of history … in some parts of the world, this night begins the ancient Christian three-day observance of AllHallowTide, predated from Celtic harvest festivals such as Samhain, designed as a time to remember those who have died. All Hallows’ Eve is the evening before All Hallows’ Day (also known as All Saints’ Day in the Christian calendar or ‘Hallowmas’). From the Old English ‘hallowed,’ meaning ‘holy’ or ‘sanctified’, it is now usually contracted to the more familiar word Hallowe’en.
Today is also Samhain – a Gaelic festival marking the end of the harvest season and beginning of winter or “darker half” of the year with celebrations beginning on the evening of 31 October, as the Celtic day began and ended at sunset.
For many, Hallowe’en is a secular celebration with people … carving pumpkins … apple bobbing … visiting haunted attractions … trick-or-treating. “Trick or Treat!” they shout as front doors are opened and children hold open their bags. “I’ve got the treats,” I reply “What trick (a song or dance or joke or riddle) can you offer in exchange?” First comes silence. Then giggles and happy faces on accompanying parents. And then, each year, the jokes come. The dancing feet tap. The songs erupt. And the riddles come forth. “Why is a seagull called a seagull?” “Because it flies over the sea, and if it flew over a bay it would be called a bagel!” A little girl, about three, recites her numbers in Spanish. A little boy says, “I remember you and this house. I’ve got my joke ready for you!” And he did!
For others, this day is part of their Christian religious observance … attending church services on All Saints Day on November 1st … lighting candles in remembrance of loved ones … visiting graves and paying their respects to the deceased.
As the last of the little ones leave with treats in their bags and smiles on their faces each year, the door is closed, the outdoor lights are turned off and I spend time reflecting on the innocence, the wonder, the fun of the night in the faces of the children and their accompanying parents.
The candleinside the pumpkin is extinguished, and a wee prayer of gratitude that a Spirituality of Play is still celebrated as “shadows of a thousand years rise again, unseen and voices whisper in the trees – tonight it’s All Hallow’s Eve!”
For those living on the East Coast of Canada and the US, the Fall season is glorious in colour at this time of the year. Living on the West Coast, while the Fall changing of colours is a beautiful sight to behold, I admit to missing the red colours and the Maple trees and shrubs of the East Coast where I grew up.
When I saw these two in a friend’s yard yesterday, I couldn’t resist taking this photo. For me, it was TRIPLE “M” time: Magic! Memories! Marvellous! What a treat!
In the midst of deep concerns for the people of Jamaica as they face the worst hurricane they’ve ever encountered … in the midst of growing angst, concern and fear for the future of democracy in a growing number of places around the world … in the realization that bodies continue to age and medical services/supplies/medications are becoming harder to access and afford, Mother Nature offers TRIPLE M” moments of magic and memories that are marvellous!
Breathe – inhale the beauty wherever and whenever you can … if only for a moment. In that moment, the body, mind and spirit are engaged and experience calm, peace, hope. Magic! Memories! Marvellous!
Fragility … the quality of being broken, damaged, delicate, vulnerable, wounded, weak. These days, many want to live in a world that is healthy, durable, safe and strong. They don’t want to live in a world that is fragile. Many want to be perceived and perceive themselves as healthy, durable, strong and resilient. They don’t want to perceive themselves as fragile.
But, life can be fragile. * Some leaders ignore the people they serve and instead, serve their personal greed and lust for power. * Weather changes result in … breathing difficulties … homes being damaged or razed … people, animals, crops being injured and destroyed * Killing of children happens … in classrooms … on the streets … in grandparents’ back yards … at concerts … churches … shops … * Unexpected health issues erupt and lives … finances … relationships are disrupted. * People of all ages live in fear of reprisal, prejudice, discrimination, ICE agents, revenge. * The pandemic was real: people died and long-haul health issues are on-going for many. * Wars continue with inexplicable horrors and devastating consequences. Fragility.
Life can be fragile because … people don’t listen … feelings are hurt … relationships end … misunderstandings happen … trust is eroded. Fragility. Life can be fragile because the voice of reason is silenced by … greed … ambition … desire for personal power … egotism … revenge. Fragility. Democracy begins to fade. Fragility. Grief causes hearts to break. Fragility. But … fragility isn’t always negative / bad.
Fragility can be seen as … resilience … possibility … hope … strength. Think of the heart. It pumps blood through the body every moment … every single day of life. Hearts are strong and resilient. We are, too. Think of the eggshell. It can be easily broken. But put a raw egg, in its shell, in the palm of a hand and squeeze. Even under pressure, eggshells are strong. We are, too.
The “I-don’t-know-what-it-is object” (less than one inch in circumference) in this image (which unexpectedly appeared in my garden while I was weeding), was delicate, strong, tiny, beautiful … like spun-gold. Fragility.
As evidenced by the egg, the heart, and this “spun-like-gold-I-don’t-know-what-it-is” object, we need to take comfort and realize that out of fragility, there is hope! Especially in these oh-so-difficult days.
Mindful that others have lived in difficult and fragile times before us (war, plague, violence, corruption), we can be hopeful … even if only for a moment. And then – we can be hopeful for another moment … and another … and another. Survival in the midst of fragility IS possible.
