Remembering the Departed

I have to admit, I still am afraid of death despite all the wisdom teachings that tell me I shouldn't be. I think fear of death comes with the survival instinct implanted by Mother Nature herself and it would just be unnatural not to be afraid of it. While not having fear may mean transcending my lowly animalistic self and my attachments to the mundane world, being afraid on the other hand means I am still finding reasons to live in this world despite all its faults, and it also makes me focus on what's really important and "live my life to the full" as the cliché goes.

My fear of death must have its roots from the fear of the unknown. I always say that death does not mean an end but rather a transition from one form to another. But what form comes next after life? The wisest gurus in history and scientists of recent years have given us ideas some of which I have adapted to believe, but deep inside I know that in the end they are all but a product of human experience and do not tell us what really is beyond there.



Three nights before undas, a beautiful ritual in the style of the Babaylans was led by Pol to honor the dead (umalagad). Food, flowers and dance were offered to the ancestors and the recently parted under the watchful eyes of the diwatas.

I think the ritual actually does more benefit to us, the living, than to the departed. In remembering them, we recall that part of us that has gotten lost when they left this world.

Pol calls upon the spirits of the land.

Candles are lit in remembrance of the dead. Names, photos and belongings of the departed are placed on the altar. 

Dancing and drumming around the altar.

Ancestors of the babaylans were also honored during the ritual.

Papa Legba.

The feast is shared among the participants after the ritual.

Basbasan Nawa!

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Honoring the Ancestors at Samhain

Here are some Halloweeny photos from the Philippine Wiccan Society's celebration of the Great Sabbat. This Samhain, we shared our sacred circle with the spirits of our beloved ancestors: we laughed, cried, communed and partook of the feast with those upon whose shoulders we stand.

The light rains during the day made us worry at first, but thankfully the sky made way for the ritual to go through. And like a dramatic ending for the beautiful pagan ceremony, the rain clouds parted to reveal the enchanting full moon wandering in the sign of Aries - the sign of new beginnings. Having had stormy skies throughout the week, I couldn't help but swoon in her glory. Sometimes it's simple occurrences like this that remind me why I have come to believe in magic.

Below the altar were placed photos and names of the deceased, as well as offerings for them.

Thick smoke of frankincense envelops the ancestral shrine beneath the Samhain altar.

Orange, the color of the setting sun, and black, the color of mourning, were the chosen colors for the God and Goddess candles. 

My palo de muerto (opa iku). An African ritual was performed at the beginning of the ceremony to call upon the presence of the spirits of the ancestors.

Only the eastern half of the circle were occupied, the west - the place of the sunset - were for the ancestors.

The fires of the cauldron burn away our attachments to those which hinder our evolution.

The hour after the ritual was spent for photo ops with the altar and the Jack-o'-Lantern - for timely Facebook profile photos.

Have a blessed Samhain! Basbasan Nawa!

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