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Hola Beautiful Wildlings!
It’s Dia de los Muertos in Chiapas, Mexico. The house is thick with the ancestors of this land. It felt delightfully crowded in the house this morning.
The more I give back in thanks to the ancestors of this land, the more connected I feel to the land and them.
This past week was quite challenging physically with my partner in DC for work. With 150 pounds of dogs (German Shepherd, Xoloitzcuintle (Mexica hairless), and Salchicha (Dachshund), going in three directions on leashes for the morning potty, my spine has been telling me about it.
I can do small amounts using my arms out in front of me before the pain sets in, my nervous system becomes over-activated, and I start to panic and have to stop everything for a bit.
Once we were all back together, we set to decorating our ofrendas, apacheta, and home with Cempohualxochitl (marigolds) for Dia. The brightness and the scent of the flower are said to attract the ancestors. Goodness, it does.
It’s Week 2 of a very intense “6-week Intensive One (of 3)” as part of the Ancestor Healing Practitioner Training with Ancestor Medicine with Daniel Foor. A great deal of stress is placed on ritual safety when working with the ancestors.
In the practice intensives, we’ve been taking our fellow students through learning their lineages and assessing their status and how impactful they have been to us as ancestors.
When I’ve done these assessments, I’ve noticed that some of my unwell ancestors are pretty ghoulish. I found it curious that I hadn’t seen these ancestors, however I have seen many of my well ancestors throughout my life. Daniel explained that the unrested, unwell ancestors tend to show up in unconscious ways, in the living through chaos and destruction.
In the Mayan tradition, bees and wasps can also represent our ancestor’s visit. This seems to be a similar aspect of unconscious appearance. I can appreciate this perspective as we’ve had one bumblebee and dozens of wasps entering the house through unseen ways in the past few days.
Each one has been carefully scooped up and put outside.
As I was taking a break as my computer was updating to Sequoia today, I saw a gorgeous TikTok of a woman painted as Catrina. As I was watching a large Chiapas wasp (see image below) landed on my head and crawled down my ear to my shoulder. 😱
This work of meeting my ancestral guides, learning practices they want me to do or continue to do, like spinning yarn or working with herbs, has been very healing. They have shown me places I’ve never heard of and even meanings of their names in relation to the land they are from.
I feel closer to who I am in the process. And, of course, there is work still to be done among the living to prepare them to become kind and well ancestors.
One relative is politically very opposite. Their choice for president would put me and my loved ones in harm’s way. And yet, when I was little, we shared such amazing adventures riding a scooter, learning to walk on our tiled roof, and sleeping under the stars on hot summer nights on a stack of mattresses outside on the patio.
As I sit with these layers of connection — across lands, species, and the complex legacy of family — I’m reminded of how each moment, even the dissonant, gritty, and raw ones, shapes who we’re becoming. To prepare ourselves and future ancestors to be well and kind takes patience and grace.
It’s not always easy to carry this awareness, especially when faced with loved ones whose choices create conflict or risk. To turn ourselves into well ancestors means holding that awareness, especially when loved ones’ choices clash with our own sense of justice.
Vale la pena — it’s worth the struggle.
In the everyday rituals, in honoring my ancestors’ and relatives’ kindness and embracing their contradictions, I pray we mend the threads between us.
This Dia de los Muertos, I offer a small, rebellious peace to each ancestor, each memory. Even the messy ones deserve a place on the offerenda, a moment of presence, a gentle push toward rest.
Maybe tonight, you light a candle for those who came before you. What does your line ask of you? What guidance lives in your bones, passed down through stories and scars?
Together, under the glow of the candles, may we all be led by the scent of Cempohualxochitl and the gentle guidance of those who walk with us, on both sides of the veil.
Stay wild, love fiercely. Your presence is golden.
With wild and rebellious love,
Ciao! xo Ixchel
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I was raised and bore children on the traditional, unceded, and stolen lands of the Coast and Central Valley Miwok (colonized as Petaluma, CA) and Nisenan (colonized as Sacramento and Fair Oaks, CA), past, present, and future. I also write, work, and live in the highland forest of the traditional, unceded and stolen lands of the Totonac, Nahua, and Mexicah, past, present, and future, in what is known as Coatepec, Veracruz, Mexico.
P.P.S. I do not live or consent to the colonial impositions regarding the construct of Time. I also practice honoring rhythms of work, play, and rest so that I can serve you with embodied presence and with loving care. This means I may take several days to respond to your requests and questions. (h/t Eva Glamaris)
P.P.S. A mention is not necessarily an endorsement of someone. It’s an acknowledgment, a citation, of the origin of information in my process of understanding. (h/t Kelly Diels)
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Copyright © 2026, Cheyenne, WY, and Veracruz, Mexico, All rights reserved. Sharing your lineage of knowledge is decolonial. When iterating, please cite me. Not citing is epistemicide.
