The Dead Are Not Really Dead

Even if you don’t believe in a literal afterlife, the Dead do get to live on, whether in the form of memory or recycled matter. And what would be more pagan than to celebrate this fact of nature with poetry and ritual? We are our ancestors and our ancestors are us — yes, quite literally — we can only honour them by living good, full lives.

And good food. You can’t miss that. Good singing, too!

And so, praise to the souls of those before us, who sustain us still:

O Ancestors,
those who have tread upon this earth before us
those whose blood now flows inside us
those whose journey we continue
those who have seen the years of old, as we now see the new

We open our eyes to the time you have seen
may we now learn from the things that have been
we open our ears to your wise words and voices
you who have walked many roads, and named many choices

We ask that you lend us wisdom and light
when troubles and vices blur our sight
we ask that you lend us courage and desire
that no dark act can erase our inner fire
We ask that you lead us to our destinations
that we may not fall into resignation
to make decisions we were born to make
to choose the paths we were born to take

O Forebears,
those who have tread the soil that we now tread
those who have breathed the air that we now breathe
my gratitude I send across the Greatest sea
to the light in the horizon, shining endlessly
we remember and wish you well,
wherever you may dwell
a sound that never dies
an infinite bell.

All hail, our most noble and mighty Dead and the Gods that keep them. Peace, everlasting peace to them! May they never hunger nor thirst!

Light to guide them on their way here and back — and the sound of bells, so that they know they are welcome

May our bonds be as sweet and everlasting as honey!

Until that day, far from now, when we might meet again, we shall feast in your honour and drink to your memory, and treasure the many gifts you’ve left us. You are ever in our thoughts as you are ever in our flesh, blood, and bones.

PS: Hope you liked the apple pie; it’s the best I’ve baked so far.

I was too lazy to make the top crust, but it’s the best crust I’ve made so far. Tip: it’s the butter.

They Came and They Feasted

It’s been more than two weeks since Hallowtide, but I can still feel their presence. That subtle chill down your spine, cold yet also comforting, like the hands of someone you once knew, now entirely different and yet all so strangely welcome.

(Or it could be the November winds, too.)

Living in a predominantly Catholic country can have its perks, sometimes: there’s always that one guaranteed day off of work where you get to honour your ancestors with your family (two days, if you’re lucky, or three, if the government decides they want a really long weekend).

There’s something undoubtedly powerful about celebrating really old traditions in large groups, even if you’ve been doing it all your life (28 years and counting for me). As with Catholicism’s repetitive pagan-style prayers, these annual traditions have been nothing less than intimate for us. If anything, our dealings with our dearly departed have only gotten “deeper” through the years. After all, we’re only getting closer to reuniting with them as we go along.

Below are some of this year’s captured Hallowtide moments:

For previous Hallowtide celebrations, just follow the Hallowtide tag, but here’s one from 4 years ago:

They Are Coming

It’s Hallowtide week and you know what that means: there will be ‘visitors‘ — and they will need to be entertained.

To End Feralia, I Give You Salp’uri

Salp’uri is a Korean folk dance that was originally used in Korean shamanism after performing an exorcism. During the exorcism, the shaman removes the “sal,” meaning a curse, evil spell, or negative energy from the person by absorbing it into herself. Therefore, in order to banish the “sal” from her own psyche, she performs the Salp’uri dance. Additionally, it is used to express beauty and sadness in both relationships and separations by bringing peace to the spirits of the dead and leading them to heaven… [See more.]

I don’t think I’ve got any Korean ancestors–none recent or none that I know of–but I pray my ancestors will understand and appreciate this gesture, nonetheless. After all, it’s a beautiful dance perfect for the occasion, and it’s happening tonight in their name, Terpsichorê help me.

Flowers, Dead Things, and Spring

Sometimes, I wonder whether this is a blog or a photo album. Nevertheless, I’m sharing you this year’s Anthestêria through the following pictures:

On the first day of Anthestêria, Pithoigia, I pickled some mangoes. We call them burong manggá around here, and they’re best eaten (IMO, at least) when they’re bordering on alcoholic. The jar, along with the wines, was presented to Dionysos and the Household Gods to kick off the festivities.

Here, you see my freshly pickled mangoes, a new bottle of lambanóg (“coconut wine”), and old mulled wine from Lênaia. True to my Mestizo heritage, I make it a point to offer produce/products from both sides of the family.

After the sacred fires were lit, many songs were sung to the God who wears many masks…

…to the One who causes flowers to spring from the cold, dark earth.

The altar is graced with a generous libation of mixed wine (in a boat-shaped wooden bowl, no less), a gorgeous bouquet of Marsh rosemary, and upo (or calabash), freshly cut from the vine.

Here, the mixed wine crowns our rice supply for the next few months, blessing it.

On the third day of Anthestêria, Khytroi, the gracious Spirits Below are invited (and sent off) with the rattling jingle of sleigh bells.

The Immortals and Once-Mortals who keep the Dead in peace watch on…

In keeping with Asian custom: paper money to burn in sacrifice.

As I keep one shrine for all the gods of my family, I leave two-thirds of it veiled (the portion for the celestial ones) and the remaining third open (for the ones below).

Hermês Khthonios as Hermanubis grants our Blessed Dead passage and mediates between us and them.

After setting aside portions for our family’s ancestors, the rest of the panspermia pottage was left outside to be buried, to feed the All-Dead, not just our blessed and beloved. We who survive, remember and honour those who have gone before us, as Deucalion and his kin once did.

As we ended Anthestêria with a proper send off for overstaying “visitors” (including the “kindly” Keres and Lemures), we ushered the beginning of Parentalia, informing our Blessed Dead that they are welcome for the next 9 days to share our joys and hopes, and to bless us if they so will. Salvete Dii Parentes!

Hail to You, ye beautiful, laughter-loving sons of Zeus, Openers of the door, deathless friends of mortals and once-mortals! Even when the shrines are veiled and the fires burn low, You are with us, standing in between, ye faithful guides and saviours of Men, in darkness and in light! Hail!

And that, my friends, is how I spent the first half of February. I hope you had beautiful celebrations yourselves, and I pray for only bigger smiles and better food in the coming festivals. As the old hymn goes:

« καὶ σὺ μὲν οὕτω χαῖρε, πολυστάφυλ᾽ ὦ Διόνυσε:
δὸς δ᾽ ἡμᾶς χαίροντας ἐς ὥρας αὖτις ἱκέσθαι,
ἐκ δ᾽ αὖθ᾽ ὡράων εἰς τοὺς πολλοὺς ἐνιαυτούς. »

“And so hail to you, Dionysos, god of abundant clusters!
Grant that we may come again rejoicing to this season,
and from that season onwards for many a year.”

Hail days past! Hail days to come! Hail Winter’s end and Spring’s beginning! And hail the Spirits that stand in between! Hail Hermês! Hail Dionysos! Hail our Blessed Ancestors!

PS: In case you missed last year’s, here they are, too.

The “Dead” Are Never Really Dead

Sons of Zeus! Was this month busy or what? And it’s not even over yet! We’ve still got Feralia tomorrow, Caristia on the next day, and Diasia the day after that! As we speak, I’m sharing a meal with my ancestors, so I’m still busy. Have happy, blessed Dies Parentales, folks!

Salvete Dii Parentes! Hail to You, Blessed Ancestors!

Of Farewells and Beginnings

Even if it isn’t exactly the start of your religious year, I’m sure–one way or another–the secularised Gregorian calendar has remained (or become?) an important part of our lives, if only just for bills or taxes. So, Happy New Year, folks! I hope you had a wonderful and auspicious Kalends of January!

In other news, as if the winter holidays weren’t busy enough (as they always are), I took the liminality of the season as a good time to bid farewell to the country of my birth and its spirits. Yes, I’m taking a giant leap to go on a journey that’s going to change my life as I know it. I’m not exactly sure when, but I’m hoping to make it happen within this year. In the words of Dionysos through the Oracle of Eugene:

“It is time to go. Make offerings to the spirit of this place so they will let you go peaceably. 

“Light lanterns and release a dozen paper swans into the water and make a feast.”

“Invite all the spirits and the ancestors. Say your goodbyes, speak your intentions to them.”

“They will understand and bless you with the luck and success you will need in the year to come.”

And that I did.

On the last full moon of 2013, my friend (the Indophile) and I started with a thanksgiving party for our landwights in the name of Hermês and Dionysos. I can’t remember the first time we started acknowledging their presence, but it’s only been a most magical relationship through the years.

The next day, we said our goodbyes to our beloved town patron at her shrine. She is a beautiful holdover from my Catholic upbringing, and whether she’s the same Mary as other Marian incarnations around the world or an ancient tutelary diwatà of my hometown, she will always have a place in my heart.
[Photo credits: warrenski manuel, EddieMarRico, AspireCavite]

On Christmas Eve, at the stroke of midnight, the family gathered and said prayers of thanksgiving over Noche Buena. Portions of our midnight meal were then offered to the Ancestors, but to our foremothers in particular. After all, according to old custom, this was the Night of Mothers.

On Christmas Day, we gathered pine branches, and had a small party at the Indophile’s house, and feasted and toasted to our common deities. (It was a small feast, but we sung hymns and praises for a full hour, I think!)

Just before New Year’s Eve, we paid our last visit for the year to the neighbouring Hindu temple. Everyone was so beautiful, as usual!

And then, on New Year’s Day, the All-Gods were honoured. Ianus was given his new wreath and offering-bundles for 2014, hung on the front door, and candles burnt for the Sun King at his seasonal space at the house shrine.

On January 2nd, the Agathos Daimôn “finger-painting” on our kitchen wall was re-painted, and a new garland crowned our lararium.

On January 3rd, had sweets and a toast for the Professor‘s 121st birthday, because men like him get to live for ever. (Also, because he’s an amazing myth-maker, a fellow linguist, and my idol.)

Hêlios-Solis Invictus here on the Eleventh Night.

Finally, on the Twelfth Night, we headed to the beach.

A feast was prepared by the shore, and the swans were made ready.

Each paper swan was crafted on each of the Twelve Days. Now, they’ve finally come together for their team swim.

Some of the food came to us as timely gifts from the holidays: the Spanish wine and Tunisian dates, in particular. Thank goodness for gracious friends and family!

I couldn’t find any lanterns in the market, so we made one (well, two) from paper cups and candles. Still quite lucky!

Whispering prayers of good fortune before letting the swans go.

A most epiphanic feeling (on Epiphany, no less) to stand there, where earth, sky, and sea meet. The world is just amazing.

Saying goodbye has a bittersweet feeling, but there’s also that promise of adventure, a new life or a chance to come back better and happier.

I’m thankful for 2013, I really am, even if it was a little rough on me at first. Things are clearer now, and I know I’ll be thanking my people, my gods, and my spirit-friends again for this year in 2015. May all be well, may all be fortunate.

U is for Undras

[Sorry for the delay, unexpected things happened. I’ll do this very quickly…]

Basically, Undras (or “Undas”) is Día de los Muertos for the majority of Filipinos. It’s not as ‘festive’ as its Latin American cousin–no parades, no costumes, no sugar skulls–but it’s certainly one of the busiest times of the year.

Supposedly a corruption of the Spanish honrar (to honour), Undras is both a religio-cultural and secular bank holiday in the Philippines, reserved for honouring one’s dearly departed. Whilst the local Catholic Church has long discouraged the practice of ancestral veneration on a festival ‘supposedly’ dedicated to the Church’s deceased holy men, nobody really cares. The ancestors get both All Saints and All Souls to themselves. My pagan heart rejoices.

A welcoming feast of both Eastern and Western foods for the ancestors and honoured dead on the eve of Undras.

We prepared little paper boats with the names of our departed loved ones and left the offerings to stand by the door. (It’s also customary to leave a lighted candle or lamp for the otherworldly visitors.)

As with Anthestêria and Parentalia, Undras is a time when the shrine to the All-Gods is veiled to avert miasma. Naturally, the lower part of the shrine for the ancestors and the Underworld deities is left open.

Every year, for two days, the cemeteries are filled with the living, and–with them–their love and devotion to their beloved dead. Despite it being a festival for people who are no longer with us, you’d be surprised to find nothing but glee on the streets as the living remember their departed with happy hearts, and feast and sing in their names.

We bury our offerings on the third and last day. Deep in the black earth, in the flesh of the ‘mother of all and eldest of beings’, we plant our love and remembrance for our dead.

… We pour them milk and alcohol and sweet honey. May they never thirst and may they always have enough in the lands beneath.

With palms facing the earth, we say goodbye to this year’s Days of the Dead, and look forward to another year of making our beloved and honoured dead proud of our deeds.

(See the full album here.)

Hail, beloved and honoured Dead! When it is time for us to join you, may we do so with pride. But until that glorious time, may we live through our long years in health and happiness, peace and plenty, and many victorious deeds.

Happy Hallowed Throwback Thursday

Okay, so I never really cared for that meme. It may, however, have use for me on this particular Thursday, which happens to be a traditional time in many cultures for looking back and honouring those who came before.

Speaking of looking back, here’s the ultimate “throwback” meditation. You wanted to honour your ancestors? Well, here’s your chance to honour yours and mine, all at the same time.

For the more culturally specific Pagan, there’s Samhain/Samhuinn/Samonios for Celts and Celtophiles (which we ex-Wiccans are all too familiar with) and there’s also Winternights and Alfablót for the Heathens and Germanophiles. I’m not really sure if there are any others in other parts of the world during this time. There’s Día de los Muertos for sure, but that falls more under syncretic.

Speaking of syncretism, what I celebrate is actually a very syncretic holiday in itself. It draws mostly from the Catholic All Saints and All Souls (and thus, from Samhain indirectly), but it has very strong elements from Hellenic Anthestêria, Roman Parentalia, and Egyptian Wag, too.

Why not just celebrate honouring the Dead in February being more Graeco-Roman than anything? Well, as someone who lives in a country where All Saints (called Undras in my town) is a bank holiday–so people can flock to cemeteries and party with their deceased–it’s hard not to join in. I don’t celebrate Halloween, but if I had lived in the US, I would probably be making jack-o’-lanterns, too. It’s all about community and what makes ‘sense’ to the land.

Fortunately, this year’s “Nights of Remembrance” (which is what I call this syncretic event) fall conveniently on the 26th, 27th, and 28th of the lunar month (unlike last year’s not-so-convenient date).

During this time, we remember our departed; those dear, those honoured, and those we do not know. We will remember, not only departed humans, but also other animals and plant-life, including those we have consumed. May these days of remembrance also remind us of our own mortality, the importance of a well-lived life, and the eternal connection between beings that cannot be severed by death.

This was from last night’s memorial. More pictures later!

A Buffet for the Ancestors

Yesterday was one of those days when I just woke up and wanted to prepare a feast for my ancestors. Maybe they wanted it or maybe I did, it doesn’t matter. Good food and good company are always welcome in our house.

Preparing a meal for the ancestors is never easy, at least for mine. I’ve got ancestors from all over the world, so I have to consider their individual tastes when preparing a collective menu. Maybe they come anyway (being already a part of the household gods) or maybe I have to draw them forth (not unlike a flashy invitation card), again, I don’t know, so I play on the safe side. Personally, I would like my favourite dishes served, too, so I work on that (let this be a note for my future children and grandchildren).

I also never forget to have a special offering put aside for Hermanubis, whom without our dead would not be able to cross over and attend our offerings. He’s a great interpreter, too, especially when I don’t speak all the languages my ancestors spoke.

And so give praise to our fathers and mothers of old, blood of our blood, breath of our breath. May they have peace and plenty in the Undying West and may our deeds honour them for ever! May we always live under their guidance.