Walking on Graves

Last night I went to Dia de Los Muertos at the Hollywood Forever Cemetary in Hollywood. I was alone for about 3 hours before my friends showed up, which allowed me to reflect on the occasion...and I didn't realize at the start, but a lot more.

Dia de Los Muertos is such a perfect "Mexican" tradition- the fusion of Catholic and native Mexican practices. Family or loved ones of the deceased return to their graves on the day of the dead and bring Marigolds and their favorite foods and Day of the Dead bread and share a meal in their honor, as well as sing songs and celebrate their lives. The popular saying of the holiday is that we have three deaths: 1. When our bodies cease to function. 2. When we're lowered into the ground. 3. When we are no longer remembered. Dia de los Muertos is the celebration and remembrance of those lost.

Now, at the Hollywood Cemetary there are probably very little Mexicans buried there, I might be wrong. But people build these huge altars and shrines to loved one, deceased artists, pets, Iraq war soldiers, grandparents, children...in honor of the dead while the Dia de los muertos parade dances around the premises and the three stages (two on ponds) play Mexican music and show traditional dancers allll night. I went last year too, and loved it. I just love my culture so much- that they celebrate the way they do, that there is an identity that identifies the people in it and is inherent in the music, dance, food, way of life, and celebrations.

Walking down the road, checking out the shrines, I began to get emotional (cry actually), realizing that it had been a while since I let myself go there. I thought of Chase and my Abuelita Mague, both who died this year, and how they deserve a shrine, a big one with Marigolds- Pink's hot dogs for Chase and pan de dulce for my great-grandmother. Walking over graves to get to the stages, I thought of how beautiful it must be to become the earth again. I want a green funeral, so that I can completely fuse with the soil and have marigolds grow out of my earth morphing flesh. How beautiful.

It was hard holding back the rush of tears in public. See, I think I never really allowed myself to mourn last Spring. Chase died a week before Lita, so that whole month of February instead of becoming overwhelmed by death, I respectfully moved on. I thought, if I live practicing the things they taught me....then they live on. And I suppose that is my shrine, my altar, to them.

All that thinking about mortality, led me to think about my life...what I am doing...what I am being remembered for....if I am leading the life I truly desire in my deepest parts. And it dawned on me that what the festival provided me, that I have been missing out here in LA, is a spiritual perspective on life, that used to dominate every move I made and now only serves as an ambience. I want that back! I want to be connected to my higher power every moment. I want to seek out joy and peace and goodness moment by moment. I want to have faith and peace again that I am being protected, that God is looking out for me-whatever that might mean.

No doubt that he is...I know he is...I am being blessed every day here in LA.

Last night- facing death, mortality, which such joy and beauty helped make me fearless again.