Day of the Dead / Día de Los Muertos

“When the birds flock to the south
When the wind calls to the north
You are in the falling snow
You are beauty going forth
You are heat and you are light
Sun above the mountain's peak
I would give the sun and moon
Once more just to hear you speak
Wings of angels, tears of saints
Prayers and promises won't bring you back
Come to me in dreams again
Wings of angels, tears of saints
Prayers and Promises” --By Judy Collins

One of the biggest surprises I have had while living in Mexico has been Day of the Dead. It may be surprising to my readers that a teacher who is fluent in Spanish, has lived before in Guadalajara and Mexico City, and who taught all the Mexican holidays in her Spanish classes for years would make a statement like this. I guess this is the place to express the idea that living in those two large Mexican cities did not completely prepare me for living in a rural area on Lake Chapala. We live more than 12 kilometers away from “Gringolandia,” in a rural area, at the edge of a quaint little village, overlooking the lake. [“Gringolandia” is my term for the area of Ajijic and surrounding areas which during certain times of the year can contain as many as 15,000 Canadian and American ex-patriots. This area is occasionally Mexican. Ajijic is an extremely beautiful town with well-maintained houses, streets and services. Within this population there are those who occupy their houses only a few months, or a few weeks out of the year, as well as those who live full-time in the area, with their only house being in Mexico. It’s a wonderful place to visit and shop. But, living in Ajijic is not equivalent to “Living the Mexican Experience,” as you can go days on end without ever having to speak Spanish. When we first moved to the Lake Chapala area (which, by the way, at its fullest, is up to 100 miles long) when we were walking down the streets of Ajijic, I spied an older gentleman crossing the street close to us. He wore a Mexican woven straw hat which partially covered a tanned face. I greeted him with, “Buenos Días.” With an obviously irritated demeanor, he looked me firmly in the eyes and produced an absurdly enunciated form of “Good Morning!,” correcting me in a manner someone might pronounce words for a young beginner in the English language. I’m sure he felt that I had been chastised properly; I was not to greet this man ever again in the native language of the country, but rather in the “native language” of Gringolandia.] But, I digress.

In the same way one cannot make conclusions about all of American culture from knowing people from only one area of the U.S., the same is true for Mexico’s diversity. The area around Lake Chapala is vastly different from the citified culture of Guadalajara, starting only 25 minutes to the North of Lake Chapala. The Lake Chapala area is much more indigenous, with all that term entails. El Día de Los Muertos is much more akin to the ancient Celtic Druid holiday in which, on October 31st, the barrier between the spirit world and the world of the living vanishes and the souls of the departed are believed to return to Earth one time per year to visit those who still inhabit the Earthly plain. The Druids would build big bonfires to light the way, so the departed could find their way back home. Druids would dress in scary costumes of spirits and other ghostly apparitions in case they would come upon a not-so-friendly-spirit that had returned to cause mayhem and thus the Earthlings would blend in with the other frightening spirits. Instead of bonfires, Mexicans create an “altar” for their departed loved ones, designed to lead the spirits from the cemeteries to their homes for a visit. The brightly decorated altar frequently has several levels, representing the steps in life: birth, youth, adulthood, old age and death. Usually a picture of the departed is placed on the altar, as well as water to quench thirst from the long journey, salt, bread (called “pan de muertos,” a delicious, sweet bread sprinkled with sugar), some of the favorite foods that were enjoyed in life, candles to light their way, flowers (frequently the orange ones which are so abundant in the fields during this time of year, and marigolds, symbolizing the short duration of life), sugar skulls with names inscribed with frosting, treasured possessions, a basin of water with soap and towel to freshen up, and burning copal, (a tree resin) an ancient Aztec custom of loving healing and purification. The day after “El Día de los Muertos,” the food that was placed on the altar will look as it did the day before, it will look like the rest of it that was not placed on the altar, but those who eat the food that has been left for departed loved ones testify to the fact that it has changed, that the taste of it has been diminished, altered, as the departed loved ones have partaken of their most treasured foods of their previous life. Graves in the cemeteries are spiffed up and laden with bouquets and wreaths of fresh flowers. The Druid customs which had been incorporated by the Christian customs and brought to Mexico by the Franciscan missionaries as All Saints’ and All Souls’ Days, adopted by the Mexicans, took on their own native flavor when mixed with 4 millennia of native traditions. On October 31st, unrepentant souls are believed to return. On November 1st, sometimes called “Day of the Little Angels,” or “Día de los Angelitos”, it is believed that babies and young children come to visit, with the next day, November 2nd, the “official” Day of the Dead, hosting visits from the adult departed. I cannot stress how much it is necessary to experience this yourself to truly understand it. It is a festive time of the year that truly feels sacred. When you stand before one of these altars in people’s homes and sometimes in their businesses, listening to someone speaking of special memories of departed loved ones, pointing out the significance of special foods or possessions, showing precious photographs, it will change you, perhaps subtly, but it will change you. It will also change you, if you make a Day of the Dead altar in remembrance of your own departed loved ones.

During these two days, families may even spend the night in the cemetery, but, regardless, families dedicate this time to remembering and honoring their dead loved ones. The importance of maintaining this memory is exquisitely represented by Victor Landa, from San Antonio, "In our tradition, people die three deaths. The first death is when our bodies cease to function; when our hearts no longer beat of their own accord, when our gaze no longer has depth or weight, when the space we occupy slowly loses its meaning. The second death comes when the body is lowered into the ground, returned to mother earth, out of sight. The third death, the most definitive death, is when there is no one left alive to remember us."
[As quoted by Judy King, in “Los Días de Los Muertos,”

http://www.mexconnect.com/mex_/travel/jking/jkdayofthedead.html

Check out her e-zine at www.mexconnect.com/ ; a subscription is worth every cent, for the wealth of information it provides about Mexico.]

Last year, I made an altar for the departed of our household. It had been less than 8 months since my father’s death, less than eighteen months since my mother’s death, and less than 21 months since my older brother’s death. My husband’s father had passed away ten years before. On the altar I placed all the traditional settings, including pictures and favorite foods. I plan to make an altar again this year. The fullness of feeling around this time of year in Mexico defies words. It is so much more than the sentiment of the customary American fall harvest, more than Thanksgiving, it brings into play the joys of life and companionship and friendship, abundance, and most of all, the memories we have lived with loved ones. This fullness of feeling invokes reverence, reminding us that no matter how long we live, our time here is precious and fleeting. All this starts gradually, sometime towards the beginning of October, as the weather begins to change and families spend time decorating the gravesites and preparing the altars, the bakeries stock “pan de muerto,” grocery stores stock pumpkins, and candy skulls, and florists display a wide array of wreaths for sale. The weather in the Lake Chapala area has already begun to turn. Weather here is always pleasant, but there are subtle differences, even in this mild, subtropical climate. The distant lush green of the surrounding mountains and hills are suddenly peppered with “bouquets” of yellow-blossomed bushes that grow natively here. The nearby green that has been growing throughout the rainy season, suddenly, from one day to the next, bursts into bright orange flowers, sometimes covering entire fields, and lining the highway all the way towards the town of Mezcala. The air is different -- crisper and slightly cooler. During the day, the sun feels like a light, warm blanket that caresses your shoulders.

The Mexican attitude towards death and life may be different from American culture, but perhaps in the end it might be healthier. As Judy King so eloquently expresses, “The Mexican flatters and woos death, he sings to her, dances with her, lifts his glass to her, he laughs at her. Finally, he challenges her, and in the challenging, death loses her power to intimidate him. Once he knows death intimately, death is no longer wrapped in a cloak of mystery or causes him to fear the darkness. Once the fear of death has been defeated, the clutch she has on the hearts and minds of the living is lessened once and for all. Death's morbid side is buried under music and remembrances, while skeletons laugh and dance and sing as Mexico celebrates life in its embrace of death.”

This time of year has become a real favorite for me. I can feel it deep within my being. Now, in this month of October, I wake every morning pleasantly recalling the previous night’s dreams when one or more members of my departed family come to me and speak to me. Like the indigenous Mexicans who have incorporated ancient customs, of their own with those of the Druids, and Catholicism, I too am fortunate to have become something more than I was before I came to live here, incorporating all these ancient customs into the identity I now possess, this new identity that has made me stronger, this identity that will always reverently remember and honor the past, yet travel forward into a future where, finally, if I am fortunate, I will be remembered by loved ones and live on a little longer before I experience “the third death.” For now, I will do my part to remember departed loved ones so they will live on, and for a brief time each year, I may have the pleasure of their company as they return to visit.