Every so often in life we have a profound experience that awakens our sleeping soul and opens the gates of awe. On November 4th, at the end of the annual Dia de Muerto, or Day of the Dead celebration in Mexico, while Amy, her visiting sister Cari, and I were on our way home from Oaxaca we decided to stop at the cemetery in our village San Pedro Ixtlahuaca. The big gate was strewn with huge garlands of flowers as we walked into a sight that took my breath away. The entire graveyard had been cleaned and bouquets of flowers were everywhere⏤covering every grave. In all my life in the United States, I never saw anything like it.
As I walked I was almost brought to tears noticing that all the graves had been commemorated with flowers. In death, all had been forgiven and redeemed and nobody forgotten; including those from the distant past. I intuitively knew that it goes beyond remembering only the illustrious or the well-known; here, every soul is embraced by the warmth of recollection. Even the graves of those who led troubled lives or are unknown to many, are not forgotten.
By far, the most common flower is the marigold, known as “cempasúchil." In Mexico, they are not merely flowers; they are vibrant messengers bridging the gap between the living and departed. With golden hues seeming to echo the warmth of cherished memories, cempasúchil invite us to reflect on the interconnectedness of life and death. The air fills with their sweet aroma, supposedly to summon the spirits back to the world of the living.
For someone from a culture where death is often treated with solemnity and separation, Dia de Muertos in San Pedro Ixtlahuaca, serves as a gentle reminder that death, too, can be a celebration of life. A moment to acknowledge and honor those who came before us, recognizing the impact they had on our existence.
In a world often quick to overlook the marginalized, I felt touched walking over the extensive grounds with graves spanning the centuries, witnessing universal remembrance.
A touching and humbling experience.
In the presence of the marigold-strewn graves, I realize that the Day of the Dead is not just about remembering the departed; it's about embracing the cycle of life with gratitude. San Pedro Ixtlahuaca has taught me that in remembrance, there is a timeless beauty that transcends borders—a beauty that invites us to celebrate the vast intricacies of the human experience, both in life and in death.
For an American like me, it's a privilege to witness the beauty of this tradition and be a part of it—a communal embrace of the past, a recognition of shared humanity, and a poignant reminder that, in the tapestry of life and death, every thread contributes to the richness of the whole.
It is a beloved time of year in Mexico, bringing families together, and whole communities. Dia de Muertos, in English means “day of the dead.” It might sound macabre but it is not. It is when death and life meet in celebration. A time when departed souls are honored and called to return for a visit “home” to loved ones left behind. A time for happiness.
Like most of Mexico, we made an ofrenda for our home. It is an altar to honor and commemorate our relatives and friends that have passed away⏤hoping that by honoring them in this way, they will come back to us and visit. We decorate with fine cloth, offering fancy breads, flowers, artwork, photos and objects signifying the passions of those remembered.
Oaxaca, in the south central mountains of Mexico is an epicenter for Dia de Muertos during the special days between October 31 - November 2 when it is celebrated. Hotels are all booked solid well in advance as tourists from all over the world descend upon the city. This year, Amy and I hosted a group of tourists from the USA at our home in San Pedro Ixtlahuaca, a village on the outskirts of town. They came to meet us⏤two famous artists living the authentic Mexican life. Our friendly neighbors made a traditional lunch.
The next afternoon of November 1, we arrived in Centro and quickly found a couple just setting up to paint faces. We looked at their samples. Amy chose a style, as did I, and we both sat amidst the crowds and had our faces painted.
Each day Amy and I went to town to wander among the crowds and relish the atmosphere. I am a photographer as well as painter, so took plenty of photos. Everywhere we turned the fantastic sights of people with face paint and sometimes elaborate costumes dazzled us. Street performers and musicians entertained. A sense of excitement and happiness abounded. Especially starting around 4 PM and going into the night.
Yesterday, November 5, Amy and I were driving by our local cemetery in the late afternoon. We stopped to take a look. Nobody was there but a caretaker. The place was awash in flowers that covered all the gravesites. The experience took my breath away. I felt privileged to come in behind all the worshipers who had brought gifts of love for their departed loved ones, then sat and communed with them.
Hardships can
make us stronger. I do not have complete evidence of this, but
believe that every situation has some good in it.
-Naomi
Boone, (Jan. 11 1980 - July 5 1999)
When
my daughter, age seventeen, wrote those words in her journal, she had been diagnosed
with cancer and given little hope of remaining alive. Naomi gathered
her resolve and reached for an uncertain future. During the next two years she was to endure extreme hardship. Like coal under intense pressure, she harnessed the good, became strong and brilliant as a diamond but vanished, leaving a glimmering trail of stardust in her path.
With the recent election, I am feeling the same apprehension and grief come back. My beloved America is torn and seems to be fighting
itself—much like the cancer cells that tore apart my daughter's
body.
Our
current crisis has “some good in it” and can “make us
stronger.” America is at a moment of truth. Our healthy cells must
unite, recognize the unhealthy usurper ones and overcome them.
Healthy cells cooperate and work for the good of all. Unhealthy ones simply take
and multiply savagely.
Ultimately
America must
be altruistic, benevolent, kind, strong, patient, just, honorable. Furthermore it needs to have the well being of the planet at its heart and eschew being self-centered.
Another
thing: the election being “rigged” is true. The system is broken.
Too much vested interest, money and corruption holds sway—and has
almost since the beginning. Why do we have a two party system? It
needs to be remade. America is in peril. A new body politic must
arise that is not based upon opposition but rather unity.
