Teotitlan del Valle, Oaxaca.
just under a mantle of blue purple mountains, lingering veils of copal incense,
join the black iron crosses, white lilies, and prayer.
families here are quiet.
women with long black braids joined at the end with
peeks of ribbon that run up and down the length of their years,
like bright hands holding life itself together.
everything keeps time, even their robozos,
the cloth of life,
holding on to sacred events that comprise all life.
mothers wrap babies securely to their hearts.
years later wrapped in a coil placed like a halo on
knowing heads
a young girl will carry an earthen olla full of
spring water from the foot of these same blue purple mountains
that shoulder the timeless panteon
where those who have walked the foot trails from birth to death
rest wrapped in their robozos eternally.
it was here in this Zapotec village that i learned
the ancient art of acknowledgement.
invited into the home, before a single word is exchanged
one always walks first to the family altar.
here you begin your greetings to the ancestors,
all those who have lived before you.
incense is offered
and rises like a white plume where the breath of the living
mixes with the permanence of the ever-after.
the veil lifts and you turn back to greet each family member one by one,
oldest to youngest.
the taste of ephemeral life sweetens each moment.
in this panteon is a small austere chapel.
never in my life have i walked into a room at once
so completely empty, yet so overwhelming full.
a dozen male elders of the village are here.
it is dark, save candles and incense.
the altar spreads like an endearing hand across the front of the small chapel,
the flowers are the flowers you would walk past
all the days of your life, if this was your village.
there is one huge wooden cross.
it seems rooted to the earthen floor and reaches for the ceiling.
it is knotted and rough with age, smooth where hands have held it
on long processions for hundreds of years.
i stand at the entrance and long to enter...
a single woman arranging armfuls of flowers
smiles and nods a kind welcome.
i slowly walk in.
each elder,
one at a time stands and walks over to me in a ritual greeting.
welcoming in me a place of belonging.
i sit on a simple wooden bench and close my eyes.
it is then that the chanting begins.
i have no photographs from inside this chapel,
yet the time i have spent here is etched on my heart forever.
the chanting becomes circling waves of emotion.
i find myself crying in a sea of forlorn letting go.
outside families honor their dead ancestors,
inside the chanting of the elders, i have lost my singleness
and become the all.
never have i felt such utter lament,
or have i been more firmly woven into the family of man.
i ask my Zapotec friends days later about the chanting.
they know immediately. yes. this is the last song.
when someone in their village dies the entire village walks
behind that worn cross.
the family bears the weight of the coffin that holds the body of
their beloved.
they walk the same foot trails of their ancestors of hundreds of years,
below the blue purple mountains to the panteon.
chanting the last song.
this is the art of remembering.
where on arriving,
you would first greet the ancestors on the family altar, then the living.
were when you take your leave, even from a crowded room...
you would acknowledge each and every person in a ritual farewell.
where when you finally depart the land of the living
you are carried on the shoulders of your loved ones
across the footpaths where you have marked
your one holy life
and everyone will sing for you the last song.
Rebecca,
This memory of BEing part of the whole, in helping carrying the weight of grief..is so very poignant. Together we will all carry the memories..shared and passed from one to the other in our own tradition.
x..x
Posted by: Stephanie | October 30, 2011 at 09:19 AM
What an incredible experience that had to have been. No wonder you are so drawn to Dia de los Muertos, Rebecca. The photos and the words are so inspiring.
Posted by: Fran aka Redondowriter | October 30, 2011 at 09:27 AM
How beautiful your images are...and the story you tell about the intimate way in which the people carry out and share their traditions.
Interesting that we both posted about our time and experiences in the cemetery with Delores Porras and her family. I think that was the definitive time in Oaxaca when I was changed forever...
Posted by: Dawn Elliott | October 30, 2011 at 09:46 AM
OMG-it is as though I felt the earth move. You have captured the heart, the spirit, the soul, the very essence of what it must be like to feel this experience first hand. And, brought to those who know little about the celebration of All Soul's Day (or, Dia de los Muertos) in a manner where, anyone with reason, could easily 'connect the dots' and 'get it' as to what this celebration is. And, that it is not limited by culture or religion. It is a connection that we all need to make as human beings.
Posted by: Paula Scott: Molokai Girl Studio | October 30, 2011 at 10:49 AM
what a terrific post. It was as if we were there with you. thank you so much for hosting this event and for sharing todays story with all of us!
Posted by: lyle baxter | October 30, 2011 at 11:43 AM
This is so beautiful, Rebecca. I can imagine it perfectly through your words and pictures. What an amazing experience. Thank you for sharing it with us. xox
Posted by: Pam | October 30, 2011 at 12:10 PM
I love your post. I felt like I was walking with you into the church and the person's home. I have truly enjoyed the experience of Dia de Bloglandia.
Posted by: Cheryl's Excellent Adventure | October 30, 2011 at 12:23 PM
I forgot to say, I love the photograph of the family at the grave. His expression is wonderful.
Posted by: Pam | October 30, 2011 at 12:25 PM
I think its all been said. I could see it and feel it all.
Posted by: gloria | October 30, 2011 at 02:03 PM
Rebecca,
This is a sacred and beautiful post redolent with the incense of holy love and honor and rich with the beauty of cultural traditions that tie those living in one dimension to those who have moved on into another. Thank you for sharing such a lush and numinous experience with us. You have made us present with you in this place both timeless and timebound. Beautiful.
xoxo,
Noelle
Posted by: Noelle | October 30, 2011 at 05:41 PM
I love your sweet photos and have so enjoyed this project you set up, THANK YOU!!!
I hope that others unfamiliar with day of the dead with find the joy and comfort it can bring!
Posted by: peggy gatto | October 30, 2011 at 06:03 PM
Beautiful photos and words, Rebecca. It has been an inspiring experience in The Day of Remembering, thank you and Stephanie.
Adriana
Posted by: Adriana Esqueda | October 30, 2011 at 09:04 PM
dear Rebecca - a beautiful post - one that I will return to a little later to savour deeply.. I am struggling with celebrating the day of the dead as we are going into springtime in my part of the world..but later today or tomorrow, I will share some honouring of ancestors of my land
I loved especially the vision of just candles and incense.. oh how I wish it were possible to come and walk this with you in real life!
Posted by: Miss Robyn | October 30, 2011 at 09:47 PM
ps: why is it that your posts always have me weeping with longing? not sure.
Posted by: Miss Robyn | October 30, 2011 at 09:48 PM
no marigolds... but a post that shows some of our ancestry here in Australia
Posted by: Miss Robyn | October 31, 2011 at 03:21 AM
Thank you for sharing this beautiful tradition and ritual with us, Rebecca. This celebration of life, embracing of connection and the acceptance of loss is common to all of us !
I love you, Remembering Heart !
Posted by: Kim Mailhot | October 31, 2011 at 06:26 AM
through your images
both pictorial and with words
I travel with you
to another world
full heart
grateful to have met you
Posted by: Irene | October 31, 2011 at 06:32 AM
Wow!
oxox
Posted by: Maija | October 31, 2011 at 03:21 PM
Hi, I come via Gloria. I love your post, this one and the previous; beautiful art, thanks for sharing.
Posted by: [email protected] | November 01, 2011 at 07:24 AM
My heart is touched...for sure. I will be with you every year. Beautiful post. xo
Posted by: Julie Prichard | November 01, 2011 at 08:37 AM