Day of the Dead (part I)

If you're trying to follow the "when" of my adventures, don't bother.  It's very confusing and I apologize for all the anachronisms.  I'm back from my trip to Veszprem and Vecses, but haven't yet had a chance to blog about older, more interesting topics, like the special holiday here on November 1st: the day of the dead.  I'm especially excited because I've been filled with profound thoughts and I really love some of the photos I took in various cemeteries.

When I heard about the day of the dead, I was eager to travel to Vecses where I could join my family to mourn our dead on Nov. 1st. A brief disclaimer: I don't personally believe in mourning the dead, feeling that it is somewhat selfish.  We mourn our loss and usually ignore their gain.  As Baha'u'llah says: "I have made death a messenger of joy to thee.  Wherefore dost thou grieve?"  Much of the time, I think death forces us to consider our own mortality, and I guess that can be worrisome.

In the last 8 days, I've been to many cemeteries, in daylight and moonlight, and pitch-blackness.  I honestly did not have the slightest notion of fear.  Every time I was filled with awe, sometimes melancholy, and often joy.  Seems crazy?  Or can we consider it a healthy attitude rooted in confidence and wisdom, thanks to my Faith?  This reminds me of Green Day: "Am I retarded or am I just over-joyed?"  Or what about the episode of Northern Exposure where young Ed finds out how old his friend Roseanne is, freaks out for a while thinking she could die at any moment, and eventually deals with it by buying her a plot of remote land for her grave.  They hike there and the episode ends with the two of them dancing on her grave.  No dancing going on in western graveyards, as far as I know, but I really felt like it lately.
(Oh ya, I took part in the Thrill the World, record breaking simultaneous dance to Thriller last year at Halloween; that almost counts!)

Which reminds me of a really wonderful devotional gathering that I went to a couple of weeks ago.  It was devoted to people that we lost.  We took turns talking about the things we remember about them or the things that made them special.  I spoke about my grandfather and my best friend Terry who passed a few years ago, in his 30's, from melanoma.  Then we said some prayers for the progress of their souls.  I said one of my favourite prayers for Terry, which has the following line in it: "... cause him to enter Thy glorious paradise, and perpetuate his existence in Thine exalted rose garden, that he may plunge into the sea of light in the world of mysteries."

So after saying a few prayers, in English, Persian, and Swedish (but not Hungarian!) we lit a few candles and moped a bit.  Then I thought of Terry and realized he wouldn't want it that way, so we cranked some music and danced.  I had such a great time; it just felt so good!

The "day of the dead" experience started on Sunday night, Oct. 31st: the night of the eve of the day of the dead? Awkward.  I was still in Debrecen, so a small group of us got together and went to the main cemetery.  After a tram ride, it was still a pretty long walk in pitch dark, with an awe inspiring spread of stars.  Like a true geeky science guy, I pointed out a constellation (Cassiopeia) and star cluster (the seven sisters.)  We arrived and viewed what should have been an eerie vista, but I was just overwhelmed with the beauty of it all, and somewhat obsessed with capturing it on my crappy camera.  Of course, these shots don't do the experience justice...

a statue by the gate

that's me; self-timed with my camera on the ground

Weaving around between graves, on an awkward stumbling trek, Mansoureh showed me to Mrs. Afnan's grave.  She passed away a few years ago, leaving her beautiful big residence to the Baha'i community of Debrecen.  That's where I'm now staying!  So we paused at her grave and prayed for her soul too.  We were surrounded by thousands of candles wearily trying to fight back a chilly dark night, and we realized that both of our prayers mentioned light: her's I think mentioned "light upon light" and mine "plunge into the sea of light, in the world of mysteries."

There were five of us there in that cemetery; that is, five of us above ground with our souls still attached. All the mourning families who placed these candles were gone.  The five of us didn't seem to talk much that night.  If it was a reverence for the dead, or a numbing sense of awe, or just a wave of contemplation, I'm not sure. I grabbed the following quote from a facebook comment (thanks Meghan! Anything on facebook is public domain, right?) "It was SO very beautiful. :) And very powerful. A strong reminder of how finite and short life is. I could see my breath and was reminded of how quickly that breath leaves us, life. And how in 100 years they'll be new people probably standing in that very spot, thinking the same sort of thoughts and lighting a candle for the dead, for me maybe."

One final quote from Baha'u'llah:

"...up from Thy prison ascend unto the glorious meads above, and from thy mortal cage, wing thy flight unto the paradise of the placeless."