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My husband and I recently attended a matinee of the animated movie Coco. No grandkids, just us two, in a theatre predominantly filled with young families. A Mexican friend (who had been our first homestay student nearly 25 years ago, and is now a father of five) had messaged me suggesting I would probably enjoy seeing Coco, knowing as he did of my interest in Dia de los Muertos (Day of the Dead). We rarely correspond these days but I am so glad he took the time to recommend this movie - it was a rich experience for all ages. We followed the journey of a young boy named Miguel, who crosses over a colourful marigold petal bridge with his dog, into the spirit world in search of a deceased relative. There he discovers the reasons behind the rituals of Dia de los Muertos and learns more about the ongoing connection between the living and the dead.
At times during the movie, I thought about my son Michael existing in that vibrant spirit realm - heartwarming. I also considered a few of the tie-ins between the movie and my life. Miguel (which of course is Spanish for Michael) is what we often called our son when visiting Mexico as a family. Also, our homestay student's youngest sibling (who we subsequently got to know very well, along with his whole family) is also named Miguel, and I continue to refer to these brothers as my Mexican sons. As well, that first homestay student and I are both linked to the two days of Dia de los Muertos celebrations through our birthdays, his being November 1st and mine the 2nd. Lastly, having signed up for Spanish classes this fall, I was able to understand a few more of the movie's Spanish language references than I would have before.
Down the road, I look forward to watching Coco with my grandchildren, as their curiosity often prompts discussions of what Uncle Mike's spirit might be doing and where he might be. And although our family does not observe Dia de los Muertos festivities, we celebrate the familial connections between the living and the dead, with as much joy and love as we can.
www.diaryofanintuitive.com
I love deep tissue massages; nurturing, healing body work enhancing my physical and emotional well-being. However, I know people who, after completing a session, described it as being akin to torture. And no doubt, others would describe their deep tissue massage experience as falling somewhere between heaven and hell.
During our hour-long appointments, the therapist and I may engage in conversation, but often, the massage occurs in silence. This way, I can consciously tune in to each area of my body as it is being worked on, adding a serene meditative aspect to the experience.
Near the end of my last session, while lying face up on the massage table with eyes closed, covered only with a thin blanket, the notion of being on a gurney in a morgue came to mind. It occurred to me that the position I was lying in on the table will likely be the same one my body will be placed in once my life force has departed. Adorned with a toe tag, there may be some poking and prodding before being whisked away to its final destination. And for those choosing burial rather than cremation, their body would be buried in this same position, and years later, only their skeleton would remain.
This observation came without any sadness or fear; a neutral perspective positioned between the macabre connotations of skeletons during Hallowe'en festivities and the upbeat energy it represents during Day of the Dead celebrations. A vivid reminder of how integral perspective is in terms of how one experiences life, and death.
Artist: Jacques Gamlin
www.diaryofanintuitive.com
When I first heard about Death Cafes on a radio program this past summer, I was intrigued. Year-round events where strangers meet to discuss this weighty subject over tea and cake. Over the past few years, these get-togethers have been gaining momentum worldwide. I am looking forward to my introductory experience with a Death Cafe tomorrow, which is also day one of a two day festival known as Day of the Dead. In cultures where this holiday is recognized, November 1st is dedicated to joyfully celebrating with the souls of children who have passed. The following day is when deceased adults are welcomed back to join the living in celebrations of life. Last week, I realized that my book launch happens to fall on the second day of that festival. Before my son's death, I had given the holiday little thought, but two years ago, during that first November without him, I imagined how supportive it would be to be immersed in a culture that celebrates this. Then last year, by chance, I was in Sedona for their Day of the Dead festivities. This year, through serendipity, I again have both days covered - the first will be spent expanding my mind, the second, celebrating a creation born out of death.
An intriguing festival. Day of the Dead. Countries around the world celebrating memories of their deceased family and friends today. National holiday for some. Creating altars with offerings of food and symbolic tokens for departed spirits. Visiting relatives' graves, candles and flowers in hand. Reciting funny stories, dancing, and eating sugar skulls. Slight variations on the same theme depending on where it is being celebrated. However, the overriding sentiment the same. Predominantly festive atmosphere full of colour and life. In stark contrast to the prevailing attitude to death here in this part of the world. Primarily one of fear and separation. Imagining immersion in a culture joyfully celebrating this day. With such a healthy perspective. Receiving such pleasure just thinking about it.
