Love Letters to my life #5: Coin-toss days

A painted garage on Independencía

by Joyce Wycoff

It was Day of the Dead but I couldn’t decide how to spend it. 

 

Should I stay home and have a nice quiet day or go out and see what was going on in the village? 

 

I had already experienced Day of the Dead here last year. I knew what to expect: altars on the street, people in the cemetery beginning a day of honoring their ancestors, flowers everywhere. I was torn; wanting both, two things that couldn’t exist simultaneously. 

 

Finally I tossed the coin, grabbed my camera and headed out, determined to at least vary the route between my house and the cemetery.

I seldom walk down Independencía even though it has always been a favorite. Immediately, I started seeing lovely signs, details and wall art I’d forgotten or never seen.

 

 

Vision Nocturna, Efren Gonzalez, 2008

And, as soon as I turned onto Ocampo, I began to see altars on the street. And, while they are always similar, they are also always unique and compelling. I had never seen this "family tree" treatment.

 

 I love the bits of philosophy that show up on the walls.

This one from the playwright Lope de Vega. Google Translate gave me a very unsatisfactory translation but Wikiquotes gave me this to ponder:

"But life is short: 

while one lives, everything is lacking; 

when one is dead, everything is superfluous."

Finally, I arrived at the cemetery where everything was abuzz with activity. 

Walking into the cemetery, I noticed a huge pile of "trash" ... flowers and arrangements removed the day before on cleaning day.

― Félix Lope de Vega y Carpio
- https://akifrases.com/frase/141054

― Félix Lope de Vega y Carpio
- https://akifrases.com/frase/141054

As I walked the narrow paths through the graves, I looked for good "shots," trying not to interfere with the processes of others.

However, I soon noticed that some graves were bare, apparently forgotten. For some reason, that bothered me and I wondered why they were left behind. It didn't seem right in this place where there was so much attention and memory lavished on almost all the graves.

I went back to the trash pile and began to rescue flowers, most of which were still quite beautiful, and distribute them to the barren graves. In the process, I discovered the grave of a local writer, Dane Chandos and decided to read his books about early Ajijic. (See blog post here.)

Later, during a conversation with the founder of a local writers' group, we decided to come back next year and honor him as one of our ancestors and replace his broken gravestone.

Somewhere along the line, I realized I was having an amazing day. That what looked like a coin-toss, was something else indeed. Taking the effort to go out to an unknown possibility showered me with joy and made me grateful to be alive.

The rest of the day was filled with altars on the plaza, sawdust paintings, giant Catrinas, visits with friends and a candle lighting at Ajijic's unique Wall of Skulls.

In total, an amazing day. I hope I remember this the next time I think I'm facing a "coin-toss" day.

Way too many of the altars honored young people.

Artist, Efren Gonzalez before the lighting

― Félix Lope de Vega y Carpio
- https://akifrases.com/frase/141054

― Félix Lope de Vega y Carpio
- https://akifrases.com/frase/14105

Day of the Dead #12: Beauty, grace, and an unexpected hollowness

"If nothing saves us from death, at least love saves us from life."

I am beginning to think I might possibly know why I’m here in Mexico. 

Looking through U.S. eyes, there are many things that fall short here. It is not a place designed by a rational person, perhaps not even a place that cottons to the term design but rather more nearly resembles evolution with it’s relentless drive toward diversity.

Street altar in Ajijic

Trying to find a metaphor, I waffled between rabbit warren and ant colony, but finally settled on the mound-building termites which build complex structures several times taller than an adult human and are now being studied for their ability to maintain a constant temperature in the mound in spite of the harsh African conditions. (If you have never read about these mounds, this article will bend your thinking.)

While the mounds lack blueprints and building codes, the individual termites follow their own paths and, somehow, build a complex, effective and, in its own way, beautiful structure that supports the colony and plays an important role in the surrounding habitat.

Another Ajijic version of an altar

This is somewhat how Mexico appears to me. People each doing their own things, living their own lives, raising their families, painting their houses whatever color strikes their fancies or budgets, and, in the process, creating a village, a town, a culture, a country.

Here in Mexico, fireworks are illegal, yet they are also deeply ingrained in the culture. Yes, some people get hurt, some are even killed, but each person makes his or her own choice and everyone else makes space for those choices. Which means we put up with a lot of rockets, barking dogs, middle-of-the-night crowing roosters, and lots of music ... loud, throbbing music. Apparently, this is the price of freedom: tolerance of individual differences and eccentricities.

Here in the lakeside villages, cars seldom honk at each other. So what if you’re driving the wrong way down a one-way street or stopping to talk to a friend or unload a pickup truck full of stuff? And, only the gringos seem to carp about the piles of trash that come and go on a schedule none of us comprehend.

Here in Ajijic, we live in a boundary land: two cultures swirling together like a river running into the ocean. US/Canadian expats accustomed to rules and regulations, law and order, as well as smooth sidewalks, yearn for peaceful perfection while the locals grab onto the gritty imperfections of life, revere Church and family, help stranded strangers, and mock death with endless color, noise and skeletal costumes.

Mexico is a feeling place. With a long history of death, destruction, and devastation, it trusts only family and has few expectations of government. It would rather dance and sing and make each moment of life as colorful as possible than worry about potholes, killer speed bumps or keeping up with the neighbors.

Having lived a thinking life striving for perfection, expecting the world to be a rational place, and willingly ceding personal freedom to the lure of safety and predictability, I am now looking through completely different eyes and what I see baffles, charms, startles and delights me. Living in this feeling world is changing me.

Halloween morning was announced with endless rockets and church bells. By evening the plaza was full of families, excited children running high on sugar and adrenalin. A parade of devotional neighborhood floats, musicians and Aztec dancers proceeded The Virgen as she was carried through the streets to an open mass and back to the old church, followed by music (loud, of course) and then the lighting of the giant castillo (castle of fireworks).

A quiet morning in Ajijic

Today dawned quiet and peaceful. It’s a day for altars, reflection and honoring of the lost loved ones. Later today tour groups will pass through the cemetery, but I wanted to see it before it was crowded with visitors having no connection to the people buried there. I went early thinking it would be empty, but it was already bustling with families adding decorations to the graves, arranging additional flowers, visiting quietly with each other. 

Early morning at the Ajijic cemetery

Walking through the narrow paths between the graves, my heart felt the sorrow, but also yearned for the sense of family and connection that pulsed through the bright flowers, decorated crosses, and murmured prayers. I was clearly an outsider, accepted but not part of the family. Beyond the wonder and grace of the beauty, there was a hollow feeling of having missed something somewhere along the way. 

One of the grave decorations.

All of this made me wonder: who would I be if I had been raised in this very different culture?

Caveat: As someone who has been here a mere six months, I do not expect these musings to represent the truth of an entire country or culture. This is only my current take on what I’m experiencing. I’ll try to do another post this time next year and see how much my understanding has changed.

Día de los Muertos: Romerillo, Chiapas

Beauty, color, family ...

Note: this was my first experience with Day of the Dead in Mexico. November 1, 2014.

How do you describe the indescribable? 

Beautiful … touching … colorful … raucous … reverent ... creative … disturbing … overwhelming … chaotic … charming. 

Maybe all you have to say is ... Day of the Dead in Mexico.

Outside of the village of Tenehapa in the Chiapas highlands, about 40 minutes by taxi from San Cristóbal, is Romerillo, a cemetery that was the center of activity for several thousand mainly Mayan celebrants of el Día de los Muertos today ... the day when the spirits of the ancestors are honored, wined and dined, and welcomed back to this world if only for a brief period.

Here are just a few word and picture glimpses into this most amazing day which was also shrouded in a cold cloud of mist  ...

Part wake, part carnival, part fiesta.

Glimpse: a woman pouring Coke onto the
grave of a loved one and
another one pouring “posh."

Incense burning on top of a pine-needle
and bright marigold-covered graves.

Glimpse: Heavy black wool skirts and tunics that are very labor intensive and stiff as well as beautiful, colorful hand sewn textiles.

Glimpse: 5-gallon containers, hundreds of used liter bottles and it seemed like thousands of single-serving soft drink bottles all filled with posh, the locally brewed rot gut.

Blue and green crosses
rising out of the mist at the top of the hill.

Well-worn wooden boards on top of graves
provide a “threshold” for the spirits
to come and go.

Ingenuity.
Click here for a musical moment.

Glimpse: a borracho (drunk) handing out peanuts to strangers.

Glimpse: Food … sold and shared … hundreds of vendors of peanuts, fruit, sugar cane, roasted potatoes, cake, tamales, pizza, and, of course, cerveza.

Back pocket "posh" bottle.

Glimpse: Being looked at in wonder and fear by children as if I were another color … but, of course, I am. I was one of the very few gringas in the crowd.

Glimpse: what happens when an event of several thousand people involving a lot of drinking does not provide porta-potties.

Colorful roving musicians.
Click here fora musical moment.

Glimpse: a hawker of bedding who sounded like an auctioneer and

went non-stop for over 30-minutes while my taxi-driver looked for one more passenger to round out his fare back to the city. Unfortunately, it was a young man who had obviously been participating in the celebration and wanted to smoke (I said "por favor ... no"). He also had to stop on the way back to town to relieve himself.

I wonder what the spirits
think of all this beauty and festivity?

A seven-year-old child drinking
“Sol” (cerveza) and offering it
to his playmates while adults stood about. 

This morning when I contemplated not going to Romerillo today, I thought I knew what to expect. I didn’t … and I’m so glad I went. 

I also added my 70th "-ería" word to my list today. When I snapped the photo from inside the taxi on the way to Romerillo, I didn't know how appropriate it would be.

Day of the Dead #11: Creating an Altar - do it your way

My in progress altar.

Día de los Muertos is an ancient ceremony for honoring the dead. Over the centuries and the dispersal across villages, states and countries, it has been shaped by local customs. What I have found in my short time here in Mexico is incredible diversity around this holiday, from a stunningly beautiful but quietly reverent atmosphere to a noisy, carnival-like approach. 

 

Now that this celebration is creeping into western culture, enriching the candy and trick-or-treat holiday with a deeper meaning, perhaps we should give more thought to how we want to participate in the ritual.

As people are attracted to the Mexican celebration of the ancestors, one of the first things they think about is creating an altar. So far, so good. There are hundreds of articles about how to create a traditional, Mexican altar and some of my favorites will be listed below. I started to synthesize some of these into a step-by-step guide and then decided that wasn’t the right approach. Following a connect-the-dots guide might create a beautiful altar, but it could also be empty and meaningless.

If you are reading this, you’re probably feeling a tug toward recognizing your lost loved ones. You want to honor them in some way and creating an altar seems like one way to do it. And, that’s true. However, there are others. One friend on Facebook lost a son four years ago in October. She has been posting a fall picture every day and inviting friends to add their own colorful images to the collection. She has been open about her grief and her attempt to honor her son. Another friend created a Facebook tribute to the important people in her life, enumerating the gifts each of them gave her.

 

Whatever you decide to do, do it your way. Honor the gifts, but also honor the grief their passing has left with you. Typically, altars include pictures, flowers, candles, incense, food and drink for the ancestors. There are layers and layers of meanings that have been added over the years. What’s important is what these things mean to you and to the loved ones you are honoring.

Church in San Cristóbal de las Casas with papel picado

Perhaps, starting with a few questions might help:

• What gifts did you receive from the person you are honoring?
• How is your life different because you knew and loved, and were loved by, this person?
• What did your ancestor love to do, to eat, or to drink?
• What would show that person that you loved her or him?
• What shared memory would make that person smile?
• What story captures the essence of your loved one?

Regardless of your belief about death and life after death, honoring the people you’ve loved and whom have loved you, is a way of honoring yourself, a way of remembering that you were and are worthy of their love. In many ways, this celebration is not only about honoring your ancestors, it's about loving yourself and accepting the realities of life and death. Here in Mexico, the delicately cut paper decorations called papel picado are used to represent the fragile boundary between life and death.

One of the beliefs about Día de los Muertos is that the dead are allowed to return to Earth once a year. The altars and all the other preparations are to make sure the living are ready to receive them. Thus, the emphasis on food and drink that was preferred by the ancestor as well as candles, incense and aromatic flowers to guide the spirits back to their families.

According to Nicolás Medina Mora. "The altar serves as a kind of beacon to guide the souls of the dead to your house. The powerful scent of flowers and incense, the glow of the candles, and the brightly colored papel picado all act as a giant cross-dimensional welcome sign to ensure that your grandmother makes it safe to your living room." 

 

Enjoy this time to contemplate life and honor death.

How to Make a Day of the Dead Altar:

1. A step-by-step, humorous and hip approach:https://www.buzzfeed.com/nicolasmedinamora/this-is-how-you-make-a-dia-de-los-muertos-altar?utm_term=.qh2Rvjp32#.umV08eRko
2. A complete overview with meanings for many of the items: https://www.tripsavvy.com/make-day-of-dead-altar-1588750
3. More about the art and beauty of altars: https://www.inside-mexico.com/the-day-of-the-dead-ofrenda-2/ 

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Day of the Dead #10: Choosing the ancestors for your altar

Ancestors 2017

Today I created the centerpiece for my altar for the Day of the Dead celebration … an image of the ancestors to be honored. 

 

The first question, of course, 

is “which ancestors?” 

 

Not long ago, on a shamanic retreat, I asked about the definition of “ancestors." While the common answer runs along the line of those from whom we are genetically descended, the shaman’s answer offered a more complicated path.

Loosely, the term could refer to all the beings who have lived on Earth before us, but, we tend to honor the people who have gifted us with love or wisdom or courage. Often those are close family members, but sometimes our deepest connections are to people we meet along the journey of life, people who change us, polish us, bring us gifts never imagined.

I have chosen six people and two dogs to honor this year, each of them unrelated to me biologically but each of whom gifted me in ways that led me to this moment in time.

Richard Wycoff, the man who became my second husband, gifted me with unconditional love and support, laughter and adventure, as well as the opportunity to be a mother, even if only part-time, and a grandmother. For twenty-six years, he was my home base.

     Rumple was Richard’s idea but he brought both of us joy and laughter for 14 years. 

Lerrea Mohney, theoretically my step-aunt, in reality, my second mother, was my champion and best friend. We had a fifty-year running conversation about life and love and all the mysteries involved with both. She thought I could do anything and made me think I could, too.

     Missy … some might call her a dog, but she knew better. She was a gift I didn’t know I wanted, however, for ten years, she was my constant companion and the delight of my days.

Maggi Butterfield-Brown was a magnetic energy field of love that pulled everyone into her center. She was color, dance, and laughter, as bright as poppies on a spring day. She gave me the gift of acceptance and seeing a life lived as abundance, love and generosity. 

Jerry McNellis was god smiling on my life. He brought me confidence, laughter, more ideas than either of us could shake a stick at and showed me the courage and grace that life could be.

Annie Robinson tossed me a tidbit that changed my life and then proceeded to nurture that new sprig. Still teaching creativity at age 90, she sprinkled fairy dust and love on hundreds of us.

Polly Hubbard gave me the gift of art. She was one of my other mothers and you can read more about her here.

 

Thinking about these ancestors makes me feel inordinately lucky to have had them in my life. As Dr. Seuss said:

 

 

More about Day of the Dead:

Day of the Dead, Episode #1: Beyond pumpkins, candy, costumes and spider webs

Day of the Dead, Episode #2 Why all the fancy-dressed skeletons?

Day of the Dead, Episode #3: Three Deaths

Day of the Dead, Episode #4: Honoring our many mothers 

Day of the Dead, Episode #5: 3 quick overview videos 

Day of the Dead Episode #6: The Legend of the Cempasúchil Flower 

Day of the Dead Episode #7: A death experience in Guanajuato 

Day of the Dead #8: Ajijic Wall of the Dead for the Living

Day of the Dead #9: Food for living and dead

 

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Day of the Dead #8: Ajijic Wall of the Dead for the Living

Muro de Los Muertos by Efren Gonzalez (detail)

In Ajijic, on the wall of a school that faces the San Andres church, there is a giant mural of skulls, what my friend and fellow blogger, Susa Silvermarie calls "a wall of the dead for the living." (Click here to read her post about the wall and the poem she wrote about it.)

Popular, local artist Efren Gonzalez created Muro de Los Muertos as a way to honor ordinary folks. Each skull on the bas-relief plaques are inscribed with the name of the real person to whom it is dedicated.

This mural is one of the many signs that reflect a different cultural view of death than the one I am used to. Death is a highly visible part of life here, perhaps a constant reminder to live, and that everyone and everything will die. While death is taken seriously here, there also seems to be a thread of humor that runs through the relationship of life and death.

Accompanying the long wall of skulls is a poem written by the author in two pieces. Susa, being bi-lingual, translated the poem to the approval of the artist and is sharing it with us here.

Here's the translation in two pieces along with an image of the original:

Morir

All that lives will die.
All the good, the bad, will be finished.
All that is strong and all that is weak will have an end.
Everything that breathes in, has to breathe out, to expire.
Everyone who is famous will be forgotten.
Everyone who believes himself indispensable, will perish.
Every creator, the ones who sing, the ones who dance—
those that admire, those that underestimate and criticize—
will stop existing.
And if someone is lucky, they will put his name on the wall 

and thus he will be remembered a little longer.
And they will be sung and danced, or underestimated and criticized, and then,
finally, along with the wall,
they will cease to exist.

Eat, child. Sing, Dance, Love. 

You won’t live forever.
Make art for which you will be remembered.
Do it now, you don’t have much time.
Say what you have to say, even if
you have to shout to be heard.
Fight to defend yourself!
Ask forgiveness, or forgive,
whatever you need to do
to keep going forward
Live.     Live! 

-- Efren Gonzalez

More about Day of the Dead:

Day of the Dead, Episode #1: Beyond pumpkins, candy, costumes and spider webs

Day of the Dead, Episode #2 Why all the fancy-dressed skeletons?

Day of the Dead, Episode #3: Three Deaths

Day of the Dead, Episode #4: Honoring our many mothers 

Day of the Dead, Episode #5: 3 quick overview videos 

Day of the Dead Episode #6: The Legend of the Cempasúchil Flower 

Day of the Dead Episode #7: A death experience in Guanajuato

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Day of the Dead #7: A death experience in Guanajuato

"Guanajuato Afternoon: by Joyce Wycoff

Three years ago almost to the day, I took an excursion to Guanajuato from San Miguel de Allende. It was a lovely day of touring a city so close in geography, yet so different from San Miguel in energy and culture. It wasn’t Day of the Dead, but I had a close encounter with death … fortunately, not my own.

Guanajuato (GTO) is a college town and feels young and vibrant. Which is good since it’s also a step-filled town built on hills with delightful, challenging alleys snaking ever upward. Guanajuato was where I realized that Mexico’s relationship with death went far beyond the holidays in November. It was there I visited my first panteón as well as  the “mummy museum." 

 

The colorful panteón we visited was crowded with graves and walls of burial nooks. It made me realize I was missing the nuances of burial terminology. Here’s an attempt to sort them out (corrections appreciated):

Columbarium at Guadalajara Panteón Municipal

Cemetery … where people are buried (presumably after they died.)

Grave … below ground burial.

     Casket … the structure that holds the remains of the deceased.

     Vault … sealed outer container that protects the casket.

Tomb … above ground burial.

     Mausoleum ... independent above ground structure built to hold the remains of a person or persons.

     Tomb … the structure holding the remains is also called a tomb.

     Cremation niche … where ashes are stored, usually in an urn.

     Columbarium ... a place for the respectful and usually public storage of cinerary urns

     Crypt … burial spot, built to hold a casket in a concrete or stone chamber.

So, the wall of niches in the Guanajuato panteon is called a columbarium. Here’s a description from the blogger at Nomad Women, Because Experienced Women Travel, talking about the columbarium in San Miguel de Allende:

"I like Mexican cemeteries. To me, they seem very real and very human. They are not sterile, tidy places. They are not manicured. They are certainly not uniform. They are a reflection of the life that came before them, the untidy lives lived by the people that now inhabit—and perhaps haunt—them.

"The Mexican graveyards I know and love are much like life in this rich and colorful country—varied and many, often untidy, frequently haphazard, exuberant and overdone."  

You can feel it when you enter a cemetery in Mexico. The ones I’ve been in are not quiet, serene, deserted places. Even when empty, they pulse with a kind of energy that sometimes makes me feel like an intruder.

Onto the Mummies

Sign for Mummy Museum. Click for more info.

Mummy

Mexico experienced a cholera pandemic in the 1830s - 1840s. Hundreds of thousands of people died and some of those people who were buried in Guanajuato became “mummies” because of the dry climate. Over the years many of them were discovered and had to be reburied. 

However, there was a tax to be permanently buried so many of the bodies were just stored until the Museo de la Momias de Guanajuato was opened. It’s a weird experience seeing the shells of former lives in such non-living detail: shoes, clothing, facial expressions on adults, children, infants. 

Street in Guanajuato

 Beyond cemeteries and mummies, Guanajuato is a wonderful walking town with vendors dotting the streets and surprises around every corner.

Diego himself!

The Diego Rivera museum is housed in a home he had lived in early in his life. The exhibit was a fascinating review of Rivera's art and made me appreciate the artist beyond the muralist.

Frida and Diego together again

While Diego was being honored, there was only a glancing mention of Frida. Down the street, however, I found a cafe that had not forgotten her.

 And,

of course,

Elvis

Lives!

There were lots of little surprises found in GTO, but one that amused me a lot was a wall stencil of Elvis. 

Just seeing his face on a wall overlooking the city was a shock but I was even more amused when I translated the words: I was not always this person. I have thought a lot about what the artist meant with this photo and portrait. I think it reveals a sense of humor and and awareness of the dance of life and death. It will always be one of the many reasons I love Guanajuato.

For what it’s worth:

El Panteon de Belen is a cemetary in Guadalajara thought to still have spirits walking around at night. Guided night tours are even available.

More about Day of the Dead:

Day of the Dead, Episode #1: Beyond pumpkins, candy, costumes and spider webs

Day of the Dead, Episode #2 Why all the fancy-dressed skeletons?

Day of the Dead, Episode #3: Three Deaths

Day of the Dead, Episode #4: Honoring our many mothers 

Day of the Dead, Episode #5: 3 quick overview videos 

Day of the Dead Episode #6: The Legend of the Cempasúchil Flower

 

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