Day of the
Dead and the Living
“The
core belief of [Day of the Dead] is so poetic and simple: as long as
we remember those who have passed away, as long as we tell their
stories, sing their songs, tell their jokes, cook their favorite
meals, THEN they are still with us, around us, and in our hearts. The
moment we forget them...then they are truly gone.”
Jorge R.
Gutierrez (The Art of the Book of Life, Introduction)
Hello! I'm still here!
Surgery went very well, and I am now recovering at the home of my
dear friends, Ann and Ellen. Today is, in Mexico and among Mexican
families living other places, The Day of the Dead. This is an
official multi-day holiday in Mexico and other parts of Central
America. It is similar to All Saints Day, celebrated by Christians
around the world—a day for honoring the ancestors who have gone
before us. I am happy to say that I am not among them!
I did have a dream about
the ancestors just before my surgery, though, and as you know, I'm
all about dreams. In the dream I am in a room that seems to be a few
feet down from ground level, as there are several steps coming down
into the room. Outside, a bright sunny day, but inside, it's kind of
dark, and I seem to standing on the ground, rather than a floor.
There is a curtain of sorts, more like a veil, since it is thin
enough to see through, hanging all the way across one side of the
room, and behind it, my parents are sitting on a bench. The
curtain/veil is sky-blue. While I am attempting to talk with Mother
and Daddy, a tall, attractive woman with long, dark hair steps in
from outside. She is wearing a “little black dress” and high
heeled shoes, very elegant. She says nothing, but I know there is
something special about her, something a little bit dark, with an
edge of dangerous magic. She takes a small pair of silver scissors
from her pocket and clips several diamond shaped holes, no more that
½ inch each, in the veil. She gives me a half-smile and a nod, then
walks back up the steps and out of the room. The dream ends, and when
I wake from it, I feel encouraged about the day to come.
The woman in black has
stuck with me. She somehow let me know that I could catch a glimpse
of the other side through the small holes she cut, even see my
parents waiting there, but that I couldn't cross the veil—at least,
not at this time. I took it as a message to get on with my life, and
not to dilly-dally. I will certainly do that. I'll bet you've had
similar experiences with dreams—they give you a little nudge, or
sometimes, a swift kick in the pants, to say, “Stop monkeying
around—get on with it—time's a-wastin'!”
On this Day of the Dead,
remember the ancestors, including the ones who are not kin to you by
blood, but who influenced your life in dramatic ways. Great teachers,
coaches, everyone who showed you how life could be—those are the
honorees of this day. Celebrate one and all. Tell their stories, sing
their songs and eat the foods they loved. As for me, I'm just going
to hang out here and heal.
In the Spirit,
Jane
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