Celebration of life

'Twas the first of November
when all through the land
cemeteries were buzzing
All Saints Day was at hand
(jeez, don't shoot me...I haven't had much sleep!)

People flock en masse to the cemeteries. A number of them go there on October 31st and stay until as late as November 2. Hence the tents. They also bring sleeping bags and other paraphernalia. Food is in abundance. But no alcohol! Drinking and gambling (among other things) are prohibited.

Of course, people gotta eat! Even though most visitors bring food, both for self-consumption and for sharing, you can't blame the fast food companies for setting up shop in the cemeteries. The earnings potential is there after all. And it seemed like some of them weren't doing too badly. Also, I actually saw a guy who was offering to do henna tattoos! I didn't have my camera with me at the time, though--so no picture. And I couldn't find him afterwards even though I really tried. I walked around quite a bit. It's quite a large cemetery...I still get lost sometimes even after all these years.

One of the mini-mausoleums tickled my fancy. The relatives of the deceased are obviously a fun-loving bunch--decorating their part of the place with Halloweeny-colored balloons!

I thought this was lovely. I was walking around and came upon it. Orchid petals strewn about the grave. How poignant, how sad.

In the 17 years we've been going to this place, today was the first time that I came across this pond. It was a welcome sight for eyes burned by tents and hawkers, and a much-needed respite for my tired feet. I was glad for the solitude, the chance to reflect a little. Which I would've accomplished, if only a damn freaking frog didn't choose just that moment to come hopping out of nowhere and scare the bejeezus out of me!

My cousin's tombstone. He was five years old. His grave is right next to my dad's. I had to redact my cousin's name...I haven't had the chance to get his parent's permission to post this, so better safe than sorry.

I used to think about what epitaph I'd like, but since I'm leaning towards cremation, I guess I wouldn't need one, huh? But the thought of a death poem, like the ones that the samurai in medieval Japan used to make before going to battle, is lovely. For the samurai, death was a noble and honorable thing.

Here's an example of a 16th-century samurai death poem:

Both the victor
and the vanquished are
but drops of dew,
but bolts of lightning -
thus should we view the world

James Clavell is one author whose historical fiction novels I've enjoyed greatly over the years. Among all his books, my favorites are Shogun, Gaijin and Tai Pan. The following is a death poem taken from Shogun:

What are the clouds
But an excuse for the sky?
What is life
But an escape from death?

Short, effective, apt. And I'm not being morbid, okay?