Montes de Oca...Barranca...Correo. Then, it happened: the first surprise of the evening. Arms outstretched, holding onto their plastic pumpkins, approached two of the most adorable Mexican children dressed as a witch and a Catrina. As it was only October 30th, I was unprepared for this sudden Halloween preview and had no candy to give to these cute kids. Turning them down was heart-wrenching, to say the least.
As soon as the twinge of my heart-strings had settled, an even greater intensity of emotion swept over me as I entered the Jardin. Just ahead, beyond the tightly-packed crowd, lay what appeared to be a very ornately decorated stage lit by soft, colorful spotlights. Beautifully adorned Native Aztec dancers moved to pulsating tribal beats emanating from strange prehispanic instruments. The smell of Copal smoke that shrouded the stage and then swept across the plaza evoked a feeling of mystery, excitement and fear. Then this feeling merged with a sense of warmth and connection as I observed the candle light spilling over the stage and bathing the heads of spectators.
The rhythms continued to pour out and the dancers, with their feathery headpieces and ghostly painted faces, vigorously stomped and twirled and bowed to the gods. I gazed in awe at the whole scene: the elaborately decorated stage was actually the main altar of the plaza and looked like a pyramid among the many smaller ones scattered around the Jardin. The towering spires of the neo-gothic Parroquia church created an impressive backdrop to an already impressive performance. Overhead, I admired the hundreds of colorful squares of paper with designs cut into them strung up in dozens of rows above the crowd.
Suddenly, as the wind picked up, these papeles picados as they are known, came to life. It was as though the earth herself was playing along to the pulse of the music. Now, I could really feel myself being swept up by this most intimate and magical current. I could feel the spirit of something larger than me. But, what was it? Possibly the ancestors honored by the dancers and the altars were actually present? Or, simply the sense of connection, community, and celebration that El Dia de los Muertos evokes…
Whatever was at play that night, it was an unexpected and beautiful experience. If I had to categorize it, I would say it would fit nicely and simply into what we call “spiritual.” Spiritual because it gave me a deeper understanding of, and appreciation for, the complex, yet beautiful tapestry of the Mexican culture. Spiritual because of the realization that all the sensations experienced had been “in the moment,” the moment where life truly is. Sometimes being caught off guard brings us back to the nourishing pulse of life –a pulse that sustains us indefinitely and connects us unimaginably.
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