Love Notes to the Dead

Blessed Dias de Los Muertos 🤍

This morning I awoke thinking of a beloved place in Guatemala, along the shores of Laguna Atitlán where exotic plants grow wild and lush along the pathways, where the black bumble bees are so huge they bend the stems of the passion flowers, and where the volcanoes stand like statues, surrounding the blue well of the lake that has numerous times been called the “most beautiful lake in the world.” Here, coffee and avocados flourish, and native women weave textiles as colorful as the blossoms. The old ladies have the sweetest smiles. Life moves a bit slower. People take their time. I think about this place often.

My first trip to Atitlán was in 2006 when I took a 5-week deep dive into a yoga teacher training that shifted the direction of my life. I vowed to come back one day. Six years ago this week, I returned to host a yoga retreat and had the great joy of leading 15 amazing beings on a cultural journey that included local food, cacao, visits to markets, including the huge Chi Chi market, and a boat ride to San Pedro, where we got to visit small local coffee shops, a chocolatier, weavers making gorgeous ponchos and shawls, landscape painters, shoemakers, and a place to buy soap and creams.

On Dia de los Muertos, Declan and I led a walk all the way up to the top of Santa Cruz Laguna. To be fair, we did take tuk tuks part of the way, but when it got too steep, we had to go on foot.

Even way up high in the hills, there was no breeze at noon—not a stirring of wind on the ground, but on this day the children were all getting ready for the afternoon winds, waiting for the rivers of air off Laguna Atitlan known to float up the ridges of the mountains. They call this Xocomil or “the wind that carries away our sins.” It happens nearly every day just after lunchtime, and it can turn the smooth surface of the lake into an ocean of whitecaps (try being in a panga boat when this happens!).

I remember how lucky we were to wander into the hillside villages on such a special day and watch as the kids send up their kites with messages of love and gratitude to their departed grand and great grandparents on colored kites. It made me think of my own family members and friends… where did they go, really? Into the ground? Into the sky? Maybe they are the passion flower or the bumble bee. Whatever they are, their energy is still here intermingling with all that is.

But I love this tradition…little kids, big kids, kites of every size and shape, running, swirling their strings from metal rooftops, competing to fly their love letters the highest, and to honor their departed loved ones with messages scribbled on paper wings. It was joyful. Lighthearted yet powerful. The pictures don’t do it justice. The kites were so high they look like tiny dots against the mountains. Those kids know how to find the wind! It was amazing and wonderful!

On the way down the mountain, we strolled through tiny towns, stopped into churches, paused to watch people laying marigolds on tombs. Every so often a cannon boomed from a graveyard, sending a ripple of sound up the hills. I learned later that this is standard on Day of the Dead, as well as on birthdays. A bit bigger effect than birthday candles, I think, although I’m not sure I’d want this to be our tradition, haha.

In one little town, Declan played soccer with a pack of kids in the square. They asked where he was from, and when he said “Ireland,” they immediately started a match: Ireland vs. Santa Cruz–one red headed Irishman against a handful of 9 year old Guatemalan kids. It was a joyous spectacle to behold. And all of them, big man included, were heard giggling with the joy of play.

What a sweet dream to wake up this morning remembering all of the laughter we shared, the yoga we practiced, the shaman who held our circle in ceremony, the flowers and mandalas we made, the swimming we did! Sigh with a smile. I love that this continues to be my blessed work!

On this precious day, when the veil is so thin, I invite us all send prayers, light candles, sing songs, maybe even write love notes to our departed ones: to our grannies and grandpas, to those who traveled on before them, to sisters and brothers and lost babes, to our dear friends and sweet pets, and to those who will kiss us goodbye when it is our turn to take to the winds and sail up to the heavens.

with love,

Katie

💜