Dead Can Dance


The Guest House-

This being human is a guest house.

Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,

some momentary awareness comes

as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!

Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,

who violently sweep your house

empty of its furniture,

still, treat each guest honorably.

He may be clearing you out

for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice.

meet them at the door laughing and

invite them in.

Be grateful for whatever comes.

because each has been sent as a guide from beyond.

-Jellaludin Rumi


Do not stand at my door and weep,

I am not there, I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow.

I am the diamond glint on snow.

I am the sunlight on ripened grain.

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you wake in the morning hush,

I am the swift, uplifting rush

Of quiet birds in circling flight.

I am the soft starlight at night.

Do not stand at my grave and weep.

I am not there, I do not sleep.

Do not stand at my grave and cry.

I am not there, I did not die!


Feliz Día de los Muertos.


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Día de Los Muertos

When I was fifteen, my mom went to Oaxaca, Mexico, for Dia de Los Muertos. And, from that point on, there was always an ofrenda, or altar, set up in the entryway of our house from Halloween through November 2nd. Chocolate, liquor, bread, paper flowers, sugar skulls, photos, fresh marigolds and anything else the departed might enjoy during their brief visit back to earth, was welcome.

Several years ago, my mom and I spent Día de Los Muertos in Mexico City where we helped make an ofrenda and visited many throughout the city and beyond.

The celebration is a tradition I love and have carried into my own home. Not meant to be morbid or sad, I enjoy the ritual of it. I find comfort in the idea of life and death as one big cycle, a continuum with no end and no beginning. And as they say, “tears are cried for the living.”