i love death.
not that it doesn’t make me sad, or apprehensive, or afraid. i don’t love it like the goth girl i was in highschool, when i wore it like a banner. i don’t love it like a machismo metal head, flipping off life to show how hard core i am. nor do i love it as a reaction to dissapointment, embracing futility and depression to spite circumstances that offer suffering as their companion.
i love it because it is sharp. because embracing its raw, inescapable nature is the best way that i know how to wake up, and to stay awake. death makes complacency impossible, stagnation a luxury, and being thankless a crime. it makes every moment bittersweet, invaluable and poignant. in light of death, complaining is a boring waste of time. time better spent steeped in appreciation. and if i cannot appreciate the moment, then death forces me to ask why, and then prompts me to act. especially as someone who benefits from living in a wealthy country, i consider it next to shameful to not feel extraordinarily grateful for my life.
the day of the dead altar is up in the hallway alcove of our home, in its 13th incarnation. rather than be a depressing experience, having all the photos up of loved ones passed beyond is cheerful. it gives me permission to hang out with them without being considered morbid, and allows me to remember them with joy and celebration, rather than sorrow. it also allows for my own experience of grief around each one, giving me permission and room to have the full spectrum of my heart, without feeling guilty for the tenderness that always resides there for those who no longer reside here.
the dia de los muertos march in the mission is nov.2. and we are having a celebratory day of the dead brunch for my birthday on the 1st. more thoughts and pics to follow.