Ajijic's "Wall of Skulls" deserves to be a designated landmark

Muro de Los Muertos by Efren Gonzalez

Last night, I met a couple who were taking photos of a specific area of the Wall of Skulls. They told me the skulls were in honor of his mom and dad. There were hundreds of people gathered for the annual lighting of the candles. Young men were hanging off the roof to light the top ones; a young boy was clinging to a ladder lighting some of the middle ones.

I often pass this work several times a week and, generally, there are people there, reading the names, taking photos, slowing down from their comings and goings to absorb the work and its meaning to them. The immensity of it captures the imagination as it continues down the wall of the Marcos Castellanos School and then wraps around the corner and continues onto a huge mural, also by the artist.

Efren, getting ready for the lighting, stops to chat and for a photo

By my estimation, there are close to a thousand skulls on the wall created by popular, local artist Efren Gonzalez and titled Muro de Los Muertos intended as a way to honor ordinary folks. Each skull on the bas-relief plaques are inscribed with the name of the real person to whom it is dedicated. This uniquely modern (2016) artistic creation, located on the wall of a school and across from the central San Andres Church, honors the ancient traditions of Mexico, the living as well as the dead. It deserves to be designated an official landmark.

Stunning both during the day and at night, it touches a deep well of emotion about life and death. The picture below and a lovely blog post by Barb Harmon, offers one tribute to the power of the wall. It stopped her as she approached the second anniversary of the death of her son and she asked a man on the street to tell her more about it. He told her, "By having this on a school you are teaching kids from a young age that this (death) is a beautiful thing, something to cherish and not fear." She cried what she called "ugly tears."

One of the aspects of the wall that receives less attention than the skulls themselves, is the bas-relief sculpture honoring the history and symbology of Mexico. Like all good murals, you could study this part of the wall for a long time.

Mexico 1810 1910 2010 Libre

Detail of the sculpture

The words begin ... En la noche de 15 Sept. de 1810 Don Miguel Hidalgo ...

And, if that were not enough, Gonzalez embedded a poem, titled "Death." Local poet, Susa Silvermarie offers us an artist-approved translation:

All that lives will die.
All the good, the bad, will be finished.
All that is strong and all that is weak will have an end.
Everything that breathes in, has to breathe out, to expire.
Everyone who is famous will be forgotten.
Everyone who believes himself indispensable, will perish.
Every creator, the ones who sing, the ones who dance—
those that admire, those that underestimate and criticize—
will stop existing.
And if someone is lucky, they will put his name on the wall 

and thus he will be remembered a little longer.
And they will be sung and danced, or underestimated and criticized, and then,
finally, along with the wall,
they will cease to exist.

Eat, child. Sing, Dance, Love. 

You won’t live forever.
Make art for which you will be remembered.
Do it now, you don’t have much time.
Say what you have to say, even if
you have to shout to be heard.
Fight to defend yourself!
Ask forgiveness, or forgive,
whatever you need to do
to keep going forward
Live.     Live! 

-- Efren Gonzalez

Gonzalez has definitely made art for which he will be remembered. This wall, this unique piece of art, is definitely part of the cultural patrimony of Ajijic.  He has been added to the "Heroes" page... see tab above.

What would it take to have it declared a Cultural Landmark of Mexico?

Day of the Dead #12: Beauty, grace, and an unexpected hollowness

This post was written in 2017. I've made a few additions as I continue to learn from this amazing country and its peoples.

"If nothing saves us from death, at least love saves us from life."

I am beginning to think I might possibly know why I’m here in Mexico. 

Looking through U.S. eyes, there are many things that fall short here. It is not a place designed by a rational person, perhaps not even a place that cottons to the term design but rather more nearly resembles evolution with it’s relentless drive toward diversity.

Street altar in Ajijic

Trying to find a metaphor, I waffled between rabbit warren and ant colony, but finally settled on the mound-building termites which build complex structures several times taller than an adult human and are now being studied for their ability to maintain a constant temperature in the mound in spite of the harsh African conditions. (If you have never read about these mounds, this article will bend your thinking.)

While the mounds lack blueprints and building codes, the individual termites follow their own paths and, somehow, build a complex, effective and, in its own way, beautiful structure that supports the colony and plays an important role in the surrounding habitat.

Another Ajijic version of an altar

This is somewhat how Mexico appears to me. People each doing their own things, living their own lives, raising their families, painting their houses whatever color strikes their fancies or budgets, and, in the process, creating a village, a town, a culture, a country.

Here in Mexico, fireworks are illegal, yet they are also deeply ingrained in the culture. Yes, some people get hurt, some are even killed, but each person makes his or her own choice and everyone else makes space for those choices. Which means we put up with a lot of rockets, barking dogs, middle-of-the-night crowing roosters, and lots of music ... loud, throbbing music. Apparently, this is the price of freedom: tolerance of individual differences and eccentricities.

Here in the lakeside villages, cars seldom honk at each other. So what if you’re driving the wrong way down a one-way street or stopping to talk to a friend or unload a pickup truck full of stuff? And, only the gringos seem to carp about the piles of trash that come and go on a schedule none of us comprehend. Priorities are different here. Talking to a friend is more important than arriving at a destination a few minutes late.

Here in Ajijic, we live in a boundary land: three cultures swirling together like a river running into the ocean. US and Canadian expats accustomed to rules and regulations, law and order, as well as smooth sidewalks, yearn for peaceful perfection while the locals grab onto the gritty imperfections of life, revere Church and family, help stranded strangers, and mock death with endless color, noise and skeletal costumes. In the best of worlds, we learn from each other and don't lose the beauties of each culture.

Mexico is a feeling place. With a long history of death, destruction, and devastation, it trusts only family and has few expectations of government. It would rather dance and sing and make each moment of life as colorful as possible than worry about potholes, killer speed bumps or keeping up with the neighbors. Mexico is rapidly developing ... may she keep her color, beauty, and enormous generosity.

Having lived a thinking life, striving for perfection, expecting the world to be a rational place, and willingly ceding personal freedom to the lure of safety and predictability, I am now looking through completely different eyes and what I see baffles, charms, startles and delights me. Living in this feeling world is changing me.

Halloween morning was announced with endless rockets and church bells. By evening the plaza was full of families, excited children running high on sugar and adrenalin. A parade of devotional neighborhood floats, musicians and Aztec dancers proceeded The Virgen as she was carried through the streets to an open mass and back to the old church, followed by music (loud, of course) and then the lighting of the giant castillo (castle of fireworks).

A quiet morning in Ajijic

November 2nd dawned quiet and peaceful. It’s a day for altars, reflection and honoring of the lost loved ones. Later today tour groups will pass through the cemetery, but I wanted to see it before it was crowded with visitors having no connection to the people buried there. I went early thinking it would be empty, but it was already bustling with families adding decorations to the graves, arranging additional flowers, visiting quietly with each other. 

Early morning at the Ajijic cemetery

Walking through the narrow paths between the graves, my heart felt the sorrow, but also yearned for the sense of family and connection that pulsed through the bright flowers, decorated crosses, and murmured prayers. I was clearly an outsider, accepted but not part of the family. Beyond the wonder and grace of the beauty, there was a hollow feeling of having missed something somewhere along the way. 

One of the grave decorations.

All of this made me wonder: who would I be if I had been raised in this very different culture?

Caveat: As someone who has been here a mere six months, I do not expect these musings to represent the truth of an entire country or culture. This is only my current take on what I’m experiencing. I’ll try to do another post this time next year and see how much my understanding has changed.

Day of the Dead #11: Creating an Altar - do it your way

My in progress altar.

Día de los Muertos is an ancient ceremony for honoring the dead. Over the centuries and the dispersal across villages, states and countries, it has been shaped by local customs. What I have found in my short time here in Mexico is incredible diversity around this holiday, from a stunningly beautiful but quietly reverent atmosphere to a noisy, carnival-like approach. 

 

Now that this celebration is creeping into western culture, enriching the candy and trick-or-treat holiday with a deeper meaning, perhaps we should give more thought to how we want to participate in the ritual.

As people are attracted to the Mexican celebration of the ancestors, one of the first things they think about is creating an altar. So far, so good. There are hundreds of articles about how to create a traditional, Mexican altar and some of my favorites will be listed below. I started to synthesize some of these into a step-by-step guide and then decided that wasn’t the right approach. Following a connect-the-dots guide might create a beautiful altar, but it could also be empty and meaningless.

If you are reading this, you’re probably feeling a tug toward recognizing your lost loved ones. You want to honor them in some way and creating an altar seems like one way to do it. And, that’s true. However, there are others. One friend on Facebook lost a son four years ago in October. She has been posting a fall picture every day and inviting friends to add their own colorful images to the collection. She has been open about her grief and her attempt to honor her son. Another friend created a Facebook tribute to the important people in her life, enumerating the gifts each of them gave her.

 

Whatever you decide to do, do it your way. Honor the gifts, but also honor the grief their passing has left with you. Typically, altars include pictures, flowers, candles, incense, food and drink for the ancestors. There are layers and layers of meanings that have been added over the years. What’s important is what these things mean to you and to the loved ones you are honoring.

Church in San Cristóbal de las Casas with papel picado

Perhaps, starting with a few questions might help:

• What gifts did you receive from the person you are honoring?
• How is your life different because you knew and loved, and were loved by, this person?
• What did your ancestor love to do, to eat, or to drink?
• What would show that person that you loved her or him?
• What shared memory would make that person smile?
• What story captures the essence of your loved one?

Regardless of your belief about death and life after death, honoring the people you’ve loved and whom have loved you, is a way of honoring yourself, a way of remembering that you were and are worthy of their love. In many ways, this celebration is not only about honoring your ancestors, it's about loving yourself and accepting the realities of life and death. Here in Mexico, the delicately cut paper decorations called papel picado are used to represent the fragile boundary between life and death.

One of the beliefs about Día de los Muertos is that the dead are allowed to return to Earth once a year. The altars and all the other preparations are to make sure the living are ready to receive them. Thus, the emphasis on food and drink that was preferred by the ancestor as well as candles, incense and aromatic flowers to guide the spirits back to their families.

According to Nicolás Medina Mora. "The altar serves as a kind of beacon to guide the souls of the dead to your house. The powerful scent of flowers and incense, the glow of the candles, and the brightly colored papel picado all act as a giant cross-dimensional welcome sign to ensure that your grandmother makes it safe to your living room." 

 

Enjoy this time to contemplate life and honor death.

How to Make a Day of the Dead Altar:

1. A step-by-step, humorous and hip approach:https://www.buzzfeed.com/nicolasmedinamora/this-is-how-you-make-a-dia-de-los-muertos-altar?utm_term=.qh2Rvjp32#.umV08eRko
2. A complete overview with meanings for many of the items: https://www.tripsavvy.com/make-day-of-dead-altar-1588750
3. More about the art and beauty of altars: https://www.inside-mexico.com/the-day-of-the-dead-ofrenda-2/

Day of the Dead #10: Choosing the ancestors for your altar

Ancestors 2017

The first question, of course, "Which ancestors?"

 

Not long ago, on a shamanic retreat, I asked about the definition of “ancestors." While the common answer runs along the line of those from whom we are genetically descended, the shaman’s answer offered a more complicated path.

Loosely, the term could refer to all the beings who have lived on Earth before us, but, we tend to honor the people who have gifted us with love or wisdom or courage. Often those are close family members, but sometimes our deepest connections are to people we meet along the journey of life, people who change us, polish us, bring us gifts never imagined. 

A friend of mine who is highly into genealogy, reminds me that I should honor all my DNA ancestors also because they were survivors and gave me a chance to live this life. So, I am still contemplating the question.

Last year I chose six people and two dogs to honor, each of them unrelated to me biologically but each of whom gifted me in ways that led me to this moment in time. 

Richard Wycoff, the man who became my second husband, gifted me with unconditional love and support, laughter and adventure, as well as the opportunity to be a mother, even if only part-time, and a grandmother. For twenty-six years, he was my home base. 

       Rumple was Richard’s idea but he brought both of us joy and laughter for 14 years. 

Lerrea Mohney, theoretically my step-aunt, in reality, my second mother, was my champion and best friend. We had a fifty-year running conversation about life and love and all the mysteries involved with both. She thought I could do anything and made me think I could, too. 

      Missy … some might have called her a dog, but she knew better. She was a gift I didn’t know I wanted, however, for ten years, she was my constant companion and the delight of my days.

Maggi Butterfield-Brown was a magnetic energy field of love that pulled everyone into her center. She was color, dance, and laughter, as bright as poppies on a spring day. She gave me the gift of acceptance and seeing a life lived as abundance, love and generosity.  More about Maggi here.

Jerry McNellis was god smiling on my life. He brought me confidence, laughter, more ideas than either of us could shake a stick at, and showed me the courage and grace that life could be. More about Jerry here.

Annie Robinson tossed me a tidbit that changed my life and then proceeded to nurture that new sprig. Still teaching creativity at age 90, she sprinkled fairy dust and love on hundreds of us. 

Polly Hubbard gave me the gift of art. She was one of my other mothers and you can read more about her here. 

Thinking about these ancestors makes me feel inordinately lucky to have had them in my life. As Dr. Seuss said:

 

Day of the Dead #8: Ajijic Wall of the Dead for the Living

Muro de Los Muertos by Efren Gonzalez (detail)

In Ajijic, on the wall of a school that faces the San Andres church, there is a giant mural of skulls, what my friend and fellow blogger, Susa Silvermarie calls "a wall of the dead for the living." (Click here to read her post about the wall and the poem she wrote about it.)

Popular, local artist Efren Gonzalez created Muro de Los Muertos as a way to honor ordinary folks. Each skull on the bas-relief plaques are inscribed with the name of the real person to whom it is dedicated. And, during Day of the Dead people gather to light candles on the wall.

This mural is one of the many signs that reflect a different cultural view of death than the one I am used to. Death is a highly visible part of life here, perhaps a constant reminder to live, and that everyone and everything will die. While death is taken seriously here, there also seems to be a thread of humor that runs through the relationship of life and death.

Accompanying the long wall of skulls is a poem written by the author in two pieces. Susa, being bi-lingual, translated the poem to the approval of the artist and is sharing it with us here.

Here's the translation in two pieces along with an image of the original:

Morir

All that lives will die.
All the good, the bad, will be finished.
All that is strong and all that is weak will have an end.
Everything that breathes in, has to breathe out, to expire.
Everyone who is famous will be forgotten.
Everyone who believes himself indispensable, will perish.
Every creator, the ones who sing, the ones who dance—
those that admire, those that underestimate and criticize—
will stop existing.
And if someone is lucky, they will put his name on the wall 

and thus he will be remembered a little longer.
And they will be sung and danced, or underestimated and criticized, and then,
finally, along with the wall,
they will cease to exist.

Eat, child. Sing, Dance, Love. 

You won’t live forever.
Make art for which you will be remembered.
Do it now, you don’t have much time.
Say what you have to say, even if
you have to shout to be heard.
Fight to defend yourself!
Ask forgiveness, or forgive,
whatever you need to do
to keep going forward
Live.     Live! 

-- Efren Gonzalez

Day of the Dead #7: More about the experience of death in Guanajuato

"Guanajuato Afternoon: by Joyce Wycoff

Four years ago, I took an excursion to Guanajuato from San Miguel de Allende. It was a lovely day of touring a city so close in geography, yet so different from San Miguel in energy and culture. It wasn’t Day of the Dead, but I had a close encounter with death … fortunately, not my own.

Guanajuato (GTO) is a college town and feels young and vibrant. Which is good since it’s also a step-filled town built on hills with delightful, challenging alleys snaking ever upward. Guanajuato was where I realized that Mexico’s relationship with death went far beyond the holidays in November. It was there I visited my first panteón as well as  the “mummy museum."
 
The colorful panteón we visited was crowded with graves and walls of burial nooks. It made me realize I was missing the nuances of burial terminology. Here’s an attempt to sort them out (corrections appreciated): 

Columbaarium

Grave … below ground burial.
     Casket … the structure that holds the remains of the deceased.
     Vault … sealed outer container that protects the casket.
 
Tomb … above ground burial.
     Mausoleum ... independent above ground structure built to hold the remains
                              of a person or persons.  
     Tomb … the structure holding the remains is also called a tomb.
     Cremation niche … where ashes are stored, usually in an urn.
     Columbarium ... a place for the respectful and usually public storage of cinerary urns
     Crypt … burial spot, built to hold a casket in a concrete or stone chamber.  

So, the wall of niches in the Guanajuato panteon is called a columbarium. Here’s a description from the blogger at Nomad Women, Because Experienced Women Travel, talking about the columbarium in San Miguel de Allende:

"I like Mexican cemeteries. To me, they seem very real and very human. They are not sterile, tidy places. They are not manicured. They are certainly not uniform. They are a reflection of the life that came before them, the untidy lives lived by the people that now inhabit—and perhaps haunt—them.

"The Mexican graveyards I know and love are much like life in this rich and colorful country—varied and many, often untidy, frequently haphazard, exuberant and overdone." 

You can feel it when you enter a cemetery in Mexico. The ones I’ve been in are not quiet, serene, deserted places. Even when empty, they pulse with a kind of energy that sometimes makes me feel like an intruder.

                                                                Onto the Mummies 

Click here for more info

Mexico experienced a cholera pandemic in the 1830s - 1840s. Hundreds of thousands of people died and some of those people who were buried in Guanajuato became “mummies” because of the dry climate. Over the years many of them were discovered and had to be reburied. 

However, there was a tax to be permanently buried so many of the bodies were just stored until the Museo de la Momias de Guanajuato was opened. It’s a weird experience seeing the shells of former lives in such non-living detail: shoes, clothing, facial expressions on adults, children, infants. 

Beyond cemeteries and mummies, Guanajuato is a wonderful walking town with vendors dotting the streets and surprises around every corner.

The Diego Rivera museum is housed in a home he had lived in early in his life. The exhibit was a fascinating review of Rivera's art and made me appreciate the artist beyond the muralist.

While Diego was being honored, there was only a glancing mention of Frida. Down the street, however, I found a cafe that had not forgotten her.

And, of course, Elvis lives!

There were lots of little surprises found in GTO, but one that amused me a lot was a wall stencil of Elvis. Just seeing his face on a wall overlooking the city was a shock but I was even more amused when I translated the words: I was not always this person.

I have thought a lot about what the artist meant with this photo and portrait. I think it reveals a sense of humor and and awareness of the dance of life and death. 

It will always be one of the many reasons I love Guanajuato.

Day of the Dead #6: The Legend of the Cempasúchil Flower

Frida in Cempasúchils

One of the most important symbols of the Day of the Dead ceremony is the abundance of brilliant orange flowers ... cempasúchil or marigolds.The color and smell are intended to guide the path of the ancestors to their altars. The fragility of flowers is also a symbol of life. 

 On my journey to find out more about this ceremony, I met Lorena at La Bella Vida (see below) and she told me about the legend behind the flowers. 

Once upon a time ...

there were two young Aztecs, Xóchitl and Huitzilin, who were friends as children and lovers when they grew up. One of their favorite activities was hiking to the top of a near mountain where they would offer flowers to the Sun god Tonatiuh. The god seemed to appreciate their offering and would smile from the sky with his warm rays. 

On a particularly beautiful day at the top of the mountain, they swore their love would last forever. However, war broke out and the lovers were separated as Huitzilin went off to fight. Soon the news came that death had separated the lovers and Xóchitl’s heart was broken and her world shattered into pieces.

She decided to walk one last time to the top of the mountain and implore the sun god  Tonatiuh, to somehow join her with her love Huitzilin. The sun, moved by her prayers, threw a ray that gently touched the young girl’s cheek. Instantly she turned into a beautiful flower of fiery colors as intense as the rays of the sun. 

Huitzilin, the hummingbird

Suddenly a hummingbird buzzed around the beautiful flower and lovingly touched its center with its beak.It was Huitzilin that was reborn as a handsome hummingbird. The flower gently opened its 20 petals, filling the air with a mysterious and lovely scent.

The sun god had granted them eternal togetherness as long as cempasúchil (marigolds) flowers and hummingbirds existed on earth. Thus, the cempasúchil came to be the Day of the Dead flower.

For what it's worth ...

Chickens from a market in Chiapas.

Chickens and egg yolks in Mexico are both a rich, yellow-orange. Why? They feed them marigolds, not only for the color, but because marigolds are rich in antioxidants.

Source: The legend of the Day of the Dead lovers comes from Inside Mexico.

Special thanks to Lorena at La Bella Vista (Constitucion #6, Ajijic) for telling me about the lover's story of the marigold and the hummingbird.  La Bella Vista is a lovely gift store and offers a good variety of Day of the Dead items and arts and crafts from around the world. They will be open on November 2nd. They will have an altar and offer talks and snacks about the day around 4pm.

Day of the Dead items at La Bella Vida

All of this series is available at the Day of the Dead tab at the top of the page.
 

Day of the Dead #5: 4 quick overview videos

Four short videos about Day of the Dead. People throughout the world have different customs for honoring their dead. In Spanish-speaking countries, the primary celebration is Dia de los Muertos, celebrated November 1st and 2nd. 

The first, of course, is the "Coco" trailer. The movie is going to be re-released ... don't miss it. You will understand the true meaning of the celebration and the beauty of the movie is stunning.

Click here to watch

The second is a beautifully animated, and heart felt, short film about a little girl who visits the land of the dead, where she learns the true meaning of the Mexican holiday, Dia de los Muertos. Student Academy Award Gold Medal winner, 2013

Click here to watch.

If you're in a hurry, this video gives you a quick overview of 5 things you might not know about this celebration.

Click here to watch.

This video from the National Hispanic Cultural Center offers a more in-depth overview of the historical and cultural aspects of the celebration.

Click here to watch.

All of this series is available at the Day of the Dead tab at the top of the page.
  

Day of the Dead #4: Ancestor Reclamation Project

A few summers ago

New Mexico morning

found me on a remarkable piece of land in northern New Mexico. Fields of wildflowers blanketed the labyrinth where I walked every morning and dramatic displays of clouds and thunder lit up every afternoon, sometimes with rain, sometimes just with cool winds.

I was with a group of seekers working with a shaman when the conversation turned to honoring our ancestors. My life rather uniquely separated me from my blood kin so I questioned what ancestors I should be honoring.

The shaman listened and then mainly left the question for me to chew on. Out of that experience in a sprawling wilderness, I came to a commitment to make gratitude a bigger part of my life, to actually  practice  gratitude using a journal I designed to be fast, easy and based on the latest research. After weeks of using the rough prototype of this journal and improving the process, I published it as Gratitude Miracles, the 5-minute journal that could change everything!

available from amazon.com

After about three months of religiously recording my gratitudes and watching for miracles, I came to the sudden realization that a good many of the miracles in my life were dead. People who touched my life, changing it forever, making me the person I am today, then continuing on their own journeys. These are my ancestors. Perhaps they didn’t give me their DNA but they gave me a piece of their spirits and nurtured something they saw in me, something I couldn’t see for myself.

Ancestor reclamation project

I have now embarked on an ancestor reclamation project, remembering and giving thanks for those people who are woven into my spirit. Some stayed for years, some handed me a gift and moved on. Each of them are as much a part of me as if they had passed along their genes.

Polly took me by the hand and led me into an art supply store, convinced that I needed to start painting. She also showed me thousands of photographs that changed the way I look at the world. Polly was a woman ahead of her time: a southern woman with little interest in marriage and children. She finally relented when Hank begged her to marry him and promised to clean the house if she would. They were together over fifty years until Alzheimer’s  carried him away.

My aunts Wanda and Lerrea were best friends

Lerrea was always there. I was one of the many stray children she fed, loved and encouraged. Long, late night, Pepsi-laced conversations about spirit and life spread over almost four decades and wove our spirits together, changing the very fabric of my being. I got to spend two of her last years with her and she left me with Missy, the toy poodle we shared and who reminded me of her every day.

Wanda was a non-DNA aunt who inspired me with her life and love. In her I saw the relentless force of creativity that pulled her into music, ceramics, and creating beauty all around her. I also saw someone dealing with a beyond-fiction life of abuse with unceasing kindness and love.

Maggi, 80, dying, laughing all the way

Maggi, magnetic, colorful, dancing Maggi, drew me in at a time when my spirit was arthritic and needed the salve of her love. She was a whirlwind of abundance, lighting up the world with her smile, listening to my tales, encouraging me to go forth and create beauty. She made my heart bigger and brought joy to everyone who entered her dance. Preparing for her last Thanksgiving, we went to Costco where she was an absolute terror on her motorized shopping cart.

Richard and Ava in the Sierra

Richard, sometimes the wisest man I would ever know, sometimes not, but always loving and kind. He supported every new direction I wanted to take and gave me the courage to take leaps into the unknown. Not all of them worked, but he was always there supporting my next try. Marriage to him was a 26 year adventure.

Jerry said yes to a ridiculous idea in a way that made me think it might not be so ridiculous. For twenty years he shared his ideas and encouraged mine. When we talked and he called me “Joyceeeee,” my spirit felt like seeds were sprouting after a spring rain.

Layne chose to spend a lot of his last year of life involved with one of my projects. I met him when he walked up to me after my first Innovation Network Convergence and gave me a check for the next year. Being around him made me a better person, humbled me and made me work harder to make our time together meaningful. About a dozen of us were part of the project he chose to support in his year of dying and his spirit hovered over everything we did long after he was gone. I still think about him whenever I’m taking on a new project and wonder if it would meet his standards.

Becoming an ancestor and wondering about my legacy

These are just some of my ancestors. Thinking about them and the gifts they gave me fills me to overflowing with wonder and gratitude. And, as I grow closer to the time when I, too, will be an ancestor, I wonder if I’m making as much of an impression on those coming behind me as these amazing ancestors made on me. 

What gifts am I leaving? Whose lives am I touching and changing? What will my legacy be?

Who are your ancestors?