I have been wanting to participate in / witness The Day of the Dead in Mexico for many years.
The joyful sacredness (a heady mix) had intrigued me and attracted me profoundly.
I have never been guided to honor or even formally relate to people who have passed on. Growing up, I attended my grandpa's and my grandma's funerals, and neither one felt quite right. Notably absent were some big Essences. Later on, when my dad died, then my other grandma and finally my mom, pretty much nothing was done. No joint grieving, no acknowledement. The latter being fully my own "fault." I could have, I should have. I didn't know how. I held her hand while she flew out of her body, and then The Men in Suits came to get her body and wheeled it into a white van.
A couple of days later I got back on the plane.
This is not to say that I have not privately related. I have had evening-long conversations with my grandma. I have felt my dad more tangibly after he died than for decades before. My mom... we're still dancing with how we're going to do this.
All this to say: here I am this year, and in my own way I want to humbly and respectfully catch a morsel of what I sense as being an important, very important celebration.
Whether we go to a parade, or paint faces or simply create our own altar, I am already feeling the sweetness of it.
A few days ago, my friend sent me this schedule, and because you too might want to join in on this Gift, I am sharing it with you here. I am sending it to you as is, with its whimsical internet translation. Note: in this case, papas are parents, not potatoes. But you would have figured it out.
Here's to sacred joy, to saying yes, and to saying THANK YOU for those who allow us to do things a new way, a way that we have not yet learned.
My white candle is lit and beautiful. I am going to walk down the river and see if I can find a white flower. I think I know a lonely soul.
SCARED OF THE SACRED