Digging the Days of the Dead

We've got a foot of snow on the ground here, and it is a real winter wonderland outside. Granted, I cannot go outside or walk on two feet yet, so my enjoyment is limited to staring out the window, watching people walk, x-ski, drive and play in it. A mixture of pleasure with envy. You can take for granted the simple act of walking or sliding in the snow. In some ways it reminds you who is really in control of the situation, God. When it comes right down to it, humans are pretty much at the mercy of a Higher Power that can slam you with a snowstorm, earthquake, illness, etc.

Maybe I'm getting all philosophical because I'm reading this book "Digging the Days of the Dead," which deconstructs the Mexican ritual of the Days of the Dead, which is all about the Higher Power and Death. After an amazing trip a few years ago to Michoacan to experience the Days of the Dead, I prepared my great-grandmother's grave in the traditional way and saw the whole ritual in action. It really opened my eyes, heart and mind to a more Mexican way of looking at death. To learn more, here are two web sites to get you going:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Day_of_the_Dead

http://www.dayofthedead.com/


For Mexicans the dividing line between the living and dead is thin and becomes non-existent on these special days. The celebration is moving, hopeful, fun, ancient and yet very much contemporary. I now love creating an ofrenda each year to welcome the dead, and the sense that the dead are with us in a very routine way..coming to eat and drink from the altar in our homes. The creativity of the ofrenda is also inspiring, as I try to create a space that is as beautiful as possible...with an artful arrangement of flowers, fruit, pan de muerto, skulls and mementos that reflect their lives. This ritual gives you the space and permission to remember and reflect on our loved ones who have died. Instead of the dead being relegated to the cemetery, they come into our homes...we are reunited for a time, as a family. Again, it is that blurry dividing line that fades away between the living and the dead.

For mobile and modern people who live far away from family burial sites, keeping this tradition alive is challenging. The book points out that this tradition tends to die out as Mexicans migrate to urban areas or to the USA, and that at its heart, this tradition is one rooted in rural indigenous Mexican culture. I suspected this, but I don't think I got that fully until I read Garciagodoy's rather harsh class analysis. I definitely can see that my own Mexican grandparents abandoned the tradition when they moved to the US. I never saw a calaca or ofrenda in their home, although they both came from rural areas where this tradition flourishes. My Mexican friends here in Portland (most are from rural traditional villages) buy the sweet bread called "pan de muerto", but do not have ofrendas in their homes.

I would like to ask them all - why did you stop celebrating this ritual? What was the tipping point or deciding factor in saying no to an altar? Was it embarrassment or shame at trying to explain it to any Anglo visitors? Was it too much effort in a busy Americanized lifestyle where work consumes so much of the day? Was it just too painful to try to recreate and remember a tradition so tied to your faraway home land (the burial site is a big part of the ritual in Mexico)?

Can the immigrant's heart only bear so much nostaglia and remembering?