As
I entered deeper into my Buddhist path, Día de los Muertos aligned
easily with the four noble truths. Remembering mi gente each year
lessens my suffering while reminding me there is a path to healing
unfinished business, even after death. This well-worn yearly path begins
with a musty container of pictures and mementos. I set up an altar
below the shelf that holds my Buddhist altar and smile while taping up
an image of a skeleton sitting zazen. Sometimes I move pictures of those
who have passed that year from the upper altar to the lower one. This
year Ethel, my twins’ sweet dog, will journey down. So will my brother.
But my parents will stay on my Buddhist altar, tiny beside the bronze
statue of Amida Buddha. I love the serendipity of them next to the
buddha that I turn to for comfort.
|
No comments:
Post a Comment