by Cynthia Wands

The view from my house during the Hunter Moon last week; the moonlight was so bright it seemed like daylight.

The past few months have witnessed a lot of chaos, sorrow, beautiful music, wonderful theater to be seen, and a strange incident that could be a message from the other side of the veil.

October has always been my favorite month – the rituals of the harvest, the costumes of Halloween, the colors of the natural world saying good to this year. I wasn’t familiar with Día de Muertos until my friend Martha Contreras invited me to join her in an event at the Forever Hollywood Cemetery. This was more than twenty years ago and at the time it was a small, intimate gathering of people to create an altar, or ofrenda, to celebrate Día de Muertos. I knew nothing of this festival, and saw some amazing creations that honored and celebrated the lives of loved ones.

Home

Click here for more information on the Forever Hollywood Cemetery Día de Muertos:

https://www.ladayofthedead.com/

My family did not gather for funerals, or memorials when I was a child, and I was in my twenties when I went to my first funeral. So the culture of Día de Muertos was new to me, and I learned over the years how much this awareness of death, has affected me. First of all, I realized how many people I loved have died. I didn’t realize that my life would be a witnessing of my past swallowed up by the disappearance of those I knew -and now with the awareness that my disappearance is also on the horizon. But the joy – the happiness at the these celebrations is what surprised me. I’ve only been to one Irish Wake – it seemed like an exercise in alcohol poisoning – with raucous singing and some storytelling. But it was more like a pub crawl than a cultural celebration.

But I found that the the 8 nights of Día de Muertos related to a fierce theatrical experience for me: a progression of characters and recognition of the facets of love and community. I now have these dates on my calendar:

The 8 nights of Día de Muertos

October 27 – Our beloved animals

October 28 – Those who left without saying goodbye

October 29 – Those the water took

October 30 – The forgotten and lonely souls

October 31 – The door opens

November 1 – Los angelitos, the little ones

November 2 – The grown ones who know the way home

November 3 – The farewell

I have many family and loved ones to celebrate over the next few days. Also, many cats.

This reminds me of my childhood Halloween costumes and the dress up parties, how l loved finding another character/costume to play that year. Another celebration of theater.

And here’s my strange story that occurred this October, and I’m just glad that I had a witness to the strangeness.

My dear sister Susan came to stay a few days with me, and spent some time clearing out the rest of the garage that held Eric’s artwork and his photography. (My beloved Eric passed away three years ago.) There were boxes of slides, artists proofs of earlier artwork, bags and bags of the last of his studio to be donated or thrown away. She did an incredible job, even helping to discard some of Eric’s “Demon Women” photography – that went along with his “Goddess” series artwork. The next morning I went into the garage to get something and clicked on the lights. It was wonderfully clean and oddly quiet. And then suddenly there was classical music playing in the garage. I was bewildered. Eric’s stereo system had been turned off for the last three years. After some fumbling around, I found the radio, and discovered it had been plugged in underneath the bookshelves. And the display showed that the current music selected was “October by Eric” “Whitacre 8:56am”. Apparently Eric Whitacre was the name of the composer I was now listening to. I just saw the words: October by Eric.

I went in to the house and asked Susan if she had plugged in the radio – she didn’t know there was a radio in the garage, not having heard it in the last three years. She came out to to investigate with me. We remarked that it might have been Eric’s spirit – perhaps weighing in on the “Demon Women” artwork, and we laughed. I unplugged the radio. I locked the door. Susan returned to New York. The garage was clean and quiet.

And then, yesterday. I once again, unlocked the door to the garage and this time I heard music as I came inside. I couldn’t believe it. We had unplugged the radio. And this time it was playing the last bit from “The Sorcerer’s Apprentice” by Paul Dukas. I clicked on the lights and inspected the radio – it was plugged in. I recorded a bit of the music as it was playing, and then sent it to Susan. She was as mystified as I was.

I hadn’t heard this music in – decades. Eric had worked at the the Walt Disney Animation Research Library for several years as a Digital Cleanup Artist. He often said it was his favorite job, and that he loved working with the people there. And I know that he loved the early “Fantasia” and “Bambi” movies, but I don’t remember that “The Sorcerer’s Apprentice” was a favorite of his.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GFiWEjCedzY

But I listened to that piece of music playing in the garage ~ and I wondered why and how did it find its way to be heard that morning. And I thought of Eric. And the spirits in October.