NMR ISSUE 39

Adjusting to Time Changes
Astrological Forecast 39
Bee and gopher
Crane
Editorial 39
Esoteric Symbology of the Tarot
Harvest
Letters 39
Meditations on the Elements: Fire
Pagans and the Net
The Joy of Death
The Sirius Connection
The Spirit's Dance

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Pagan Parenting: The Joy of Death

By Amanda Cummings

Halloween is coming! This is one of the high points of the Pagan calendar, right up there with Beltane for my children and me. I think it's all the dressing up. At Beltane we go to the park with a couple hundred of our Pagan friends, and wear flower crowns and flowery clothes, and so do many of other people. And of course at Hallows, there's trick-or-treat. At our house there is also an outrageous party, since we host the Hallows celebration for several covens. And my children love a good party!

Hallows at my house usually goes something like this: The kids dress up for dress up day at school. Then we usually go see my mother and her mother (who have usually both done nifty Halloween stuff for the children). Then we trick-or-treat in my grandmother's neighborhood (it used to be my neighborhood when I lived next-door to her for several years), since I know most of the people there and I am reasonably sure it's safe (unfortunately a consideration today). Then home to the festivities!

By the time we get home, the back yard is decorated like a fairy tale land, with little sparkling lights, an altar, tents (yes, I do have a huge back yard [by Southern California standards —SR]), musicians, tables, chairs and about a hundred people. There is plenty of food, a dramatic production of one kind or another, dancing, singing, games, divination, great conversation and a general good time. Aren't Pagans cool? Even the season of death is a party!

Why do we do this? Why is death considered a thing to celebrate? How do we explain this to our children without sounding morbid?

The celebration of death is something this culture has stamped out with a vengeance. Death in this violently Christian culture is considered evil. It is the result of sin. It is divine retribution. Death in this youth-worshipping culture is taboo, as well. It is the acknowledgment that we will not be forever young and beautiful. Death is what happens when you are old, ugly and useless. And ultimately, in this age of rationalism and the worship of reason, death is the final antithesis. It is the complete unknown, from which there is no data, no facts, no hard evidence of what-comes-next. To acknowledge death, much less celebrate it, is just so much emotional hooey.

But even now cultures around the world have celebrations of the dead. In Southern California, where we live, there is a large Hispanic population. In the local Hispanic culture they celebrate Dia de los Muertos (Day of the Dead Ones). The families (including the children—evidently Hispanic culture realizes that remembering dead loved ones will not emotionally scar or traumatize children) dress in their best and go down to the family plot at the graveyard. There they clean the family graves, put out flowers, trim the grass, wash the markers. When all the work is done, they put down a blanket on the graves and have a picnic! They tell stories about the people whose graves they have tended, and sing and have a wonderful day picnicking in the cemeteries. They have skull cookies, and skeleton toys and the children play tag through the headstones. They put up streamers and play music. It is a beautiful sight to drive past the graveyards on Dia de los Muertos and see family after family celebrating. If you asked them, they would tell you that they do this to honor the loved ones who are no longer alive.

Many other cultures still practice ancestor worship in one form or another. Many of the Eastern cultures still keep this tradition, even in our country. One of my children's favorite playbuddies is Chinese. To find the people who live in the house, you must go to the back door in the family room. They are seldom in the front of the house. At first I would go to the front door to tell my kids to come home. The front room is not a living room. It is a bare room with bright paper streamers strung across the ceiling. On the far side of the room (on the North facing wall) is a row of photographs, very old photographs. Bowls of food and incense are also placed along the shelf. In the front planter box, you can see the stick ends of the incense—all to honor their family members gone to the next world. In our culture, we have no such tradition to carry on the memories of our beloved dead. Or do we? This is why we celebrate Hallows!

Why do we celebrate death and the dead? Isn't this sort of morbid and twisted? Hardly! Death is the last change experienced in a lifetime. It is the transformation whereby we transcend this version of reality. It is being released from the three dimensional existence of this plane to the multidimensional existence of the cosmos! How's that for a mind-blower? When we celebrate death, we acknowledge this change. But we do more than that. We embrace it as a necessary part of all life, part of the wheel of birth, life, death, rebirth. We also admit our loss at the passing of a dear one, those special people who have made our lives what they are. Celebrations of death are often tinged with a note or two of solemnity for this reason; but as we continue to celebrate our loved ones' lives, we bring happiness to their memories. There is nothing morbid about remembering and honoring people who are dead who are important to us.

How do we explain this to children? My children have not experienced the loss of someone close to them. I have only lost two members of my extended family, my grandfather and his mother, in my lifetime (we breed young and live long). I talk about my grandfather a lot with my kids. I was expecting my first child when he passed over. That was 12 years ago. Even then, before I was a Pagan, I appreciated the continuity of it all. I'm sure he did, too. I have always been sorry that I didn't get to share my children with him, but I'm comforted that he sees them, and I have no doubt he watches out for them. My great-grandmother just passed over summer before last, and she will be remembered at Hallows this year, too. My children had the opportunity to meet my great-grandmother on her 90th birthday. My grampa was dead by then, but my kids, my sister, my mother, my gramma (great-gramma's daughter-in-law) and I flew back for her birthday. Needless to say, I took pictures! I love telling stories about them (to almost anyone who will listen, as my household will confirm), mostly because they still make me happy. Every Hallows I tell my kids the stories about how Grampa found the house that Gramma lives in to this day; about how Great Gramma chased him around the yard with a piece of firewood for worrying her by staying out all night; about how big he was (huge!); about him trying to get me married off so I wouldn't be an old maid; and on and on. Then on Hallows I always put out a cup of Waverly wafers crumbled into milk for him (it was his favorite—don't ask me why), and bread and cheese for anyone else he might bring with him (Grampa always liked a party). Then I would wait for him. He always comes to talk for a bit, and gives me advice (of course).

I tell my children all this. They usually help me mix up the crackers and milk (with appropriate ew! sound effects). The youngest one is old enough that the idea of death is unpleasant to her. It means separation from the people she loves if they die. The older two have become aware of their own mortality, and ignore it with the bliss of youth. But every year, when we celebrate Hallows, we remember and laugh and celebrate!

We can pass this on to our children, too. They can look at death as a transformation, without the moral squint of the culture they live in. The more they hear the old stories of their ancestors, the more respect they have for their own history. They learn the old aren't useless, but wise. They also learn that the old were once young, too, like them, and that they will grow old like their predecessors. They learn at Hallows that the dead are not gone forever except in the touchable form (that's how I explain it to my kids). I have told them that the part of them that is truly them, their selves, will go on forever and ever, to new worlds and new adventures and experiences. We remember the dead with love and joy for the time they shared our lives. This is why we celebrate!

Blessed Be! Happy Hallows!



Blessed Samhain!