There is honor and dignity in holding both the shadow and the light.

Earlier this week, I posted on Instagram about how much I appreciate the ability to show up as a therapist in private practice as my whole self. I feel a greater sense of agency in the process of setting my boundaries, which are firmer in some areas of my practice now and more flexible in other areas.  I am enjoying the increased transparency around my personal subjectivity. This week I dropped off my ballot and voted for Biden Harris. This weekend I will be honoring Día de los Muertos. Both of these parts of my personal subjectivity matter in my work with clients. Both of these personal facts influence the perspective I bring with me into the therapeutic process. 

If you’re not quite sure what this holiday is, I encourage you to check out this site or spend some time on google learning the basics.  I grew up celebrating Day of the Dead every year with my family. I have many special memories of when my mom would let me skip school and help her bake bread and prepare the ofrendra, or altar. We were not a religious family, but I was taught that the spirits of those we loved would visit us and feast on the treats we were working so hard to prepare for them. I remember waking up the mornings after the holiday and checking to see if the water levels in the glasses on the ofrenda had gone down overnight, just as a kid might check to see if Santa had eaten his cookies. For a child who had experienced a fair amount of death in the family, this brought me great comfort and satisfaction. 

As an adult, I no longer check water levels in glasses, but I do still believe in the ongoing practice of getting in touch with the spirits and legacy of those who came before me. I turn to my grandparents for guidance before making any big decisions, and I feel their presence in all of life’s greatest moments. Day of the Dead primarily garners attention for its aesthetic qualities, but the intimate reflections are what matter most. 

There are elements of beauty, joy, celebration, and deep connection to the living and to the dead in Día de los Muertos celebrations. There is food, drink, music, and warm visits with family. The key is to not mistake this sense of ease with insincerity. Day of the Dead teaches us to honor both the light and its shadow. When it comes to grief, we don’t have to oscillate between sorrow and gratitude. We don’t have to convince ourselves to feel grateful we had the relationship while it lasted and coerce ourselves into toxic positivity. At the same time, we don’t have to feel guilty for laughing at a funny memory. 

Day of the Dead is about celebrating life (light) while allowing room for our grief (shadow). We cannot have one without the other, and both deserve acknowledgment. I think about how in Mexico it’s perfectly normal to drink and listen to music while cleaning a loved one’s grave. There is nothing spooky or cheeky about these rituals because there is no need to use humor to deflect from the actualities of celebrating life and honoring death. We do not need to use ghosts and horror to represent our discomfort with death. Are there ways that you have been using distraction to avoid the sincerity of anything you have lost?

You may be grieving the death of a loved one, the end of a relationship, or the expectations of the experiences you had hoped to have had in 2020. Culturally in the US, we tend to get uncomfortable around expressions of grief. I invite you to reflect on your relationship to loss and to challenge yourself to honor all parts of your experience with these additional questions for reflection: 

• What losses feel most present right now?

• Do you tend to focus on the shadow or the light of your loss?

• Does your support system have a good understanding of both the shadow and the light of your loss?

• Write a mantra for honoring the shadow of your grief.

• Write a mantra for honoring the light of your loss.