The Fascinating Connection Between Monarch Butterflies and the Day of the Dead

Nature never stops teaching us.

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I look at my newsletter stats and consider cooling it on my death talks. Those posts don't seem to resonate.

I get it.

Nobody wants to talk about the Grim Reaper.

Yet yesterday was Halloween, and today is All Saints Day, so I'm confident you're sort of in the mood and will find this newsletter semi-palatable.

You see, death has been calling and begging for a rebrand.

The kids know. They’re savvy. They go all out on Hallows' Eve and can barely contain their excitement. Is it the promise of candy or the fun of dressing up? Do they understand that they’re spirits playing in a human body costume?

My 8-year-old-going-on-20 granddaughter has morphed from wearing fairy princess costumes to becoming a goth devil.

Photo Credit: Author

Whatever that is.

She is mature enough to embrace the ghoulish part of the holiday, similar to the Mexican holiday “El Dia de los Muertos” or the Day of the Dead. I had heard of this holiday but never bothered learning about it until I discovered the connection between the celebration and monarch butterflies in Barbara Kingsolver's book, "Flight Behavior."

The novel takes place in the southern part of Appalachia, where a woman discovers monarch butterflies over-wintering on her family's land. Despite knowing the story was fiction, I started believing that my favorite butterfly's navigation system was out of whack and had lost its way to Mexico.

It's only in the epilogue that the author reminds the reader that, hey, this didn't really happen, but the way things are going, something like this could happen. Monarchs are already on the vulnerable species list.

Through her work, Kingsolver hopes to convey the disastrous effects of climate change on nature and how it is confusing its normal survival patterns.

Monarch butterflies are special to me. I raise these orange and black beauties every summer.

I've even nurtured (read: kept alive against all hopes) a broken-winged butterfly.

Besides Kingsolver's clarion call to address climate change, she also reveals the profound relationship between monarch butterflies and El Dia de los Muertos.

As you read this, in the quiet corners of Mexico, a magical migration has taken place. The monarchs have completed their journey from Canada and the United States to rest in the oyamel fir forests in central Mexico, having traveled anywhere from 2,500 to 3,000 miles (4,000 to 4,800 kilometers.)

Their arrival coincides with El Dia de los Muertos, when families gather to honor their departed loved ones.

Coincidence?

Maybe, but I don't believe in coincidences. In the Mexican culture, many view the butterflies as the souls of their ancestors, returning to earth for a brief visit. They made sure of it.

“La caja de la muerte,” the death box or casket, contains a small hole for the soul to escape. This way, a loved one can return for their annual visit.

How many of you, dear community members, already believe your loved ones visit through winged creatures like cardinals or ladybugs?

I am captivated by the idea that these majestic butterflies carry the spirits of our ancestors, delivering a message that the souls we've lost are not confined to the realms of memory but are part of an incredible, ongoing cosmic voyage.

Here, we find solace. Death, often feared and shrouded in mystery, transforms into a natural continuation of life.

The monarchs have yet another lesson to teach us. We, too, are on a journey.

Just as the butterflies navigate thousands of miles, guided by an inner compass, we, too, are driven by an unseen force, leading us from one state of being to another.

We earthlings are here but for a fleeting moment.

The Day of the Dead, with its vibrant colors and heartfelt celebrations, becomes a testament to the interconnectedness of all things. Communities hold parades, adorn headstones, and decorate the streets, but the central tradition is the creation of altars.

A glass of water, candles, a loved one's favorite foods, photos, marigolds, paper flowers, tasty sugar skulls, pan de muerto (bread of the dead), and more sit on homemade altars.

You can watch a more traditional version of el Dia de los Muertos here.

El Dia de los Muertos rituals acknowledge that death is not an end but a transformation. Our loved ones live on in the laughter that echoes in our memories, the lessons they imparted, and the love they bestowed upon us.

Death is a natural part of life, a transition to travel to the afterlife. That sounds party-worthy to me.

After all, there is no separation between us and nature. Nature is what we are. Satya Robyn’s angry dog, Ralph, showcased in her Substack newsletter this week, “The Angry Man, the Angry Dog, & Me,” reveals that our animal counterparts are very much like us and possess a range of emotions and intelligence.

They have much to teach us.

In the ethereal dance of the monarchs, there lies a profound lesson about life, death, and the cyclical nature of existence. Embracing the characteristics and energy of monarch butterflies allows us to confront our mortality gracefully. If these fragile creatures find the strength to cross continents, we, too, possess an inherent resilience.

Death does not extinguish light but merges it with the universal energy that connects us all.

As the monarch butterflies grace the skies of Mexico, remember your ancestors with joy and gratitude today. Celebrate the impermanence of life and find peace in the knowledge that our journey, like theirs, is part of a magnificent, eternal cycle.

Remember, you’ve got this.

We, like the butterflies, are destined to take flight and join the cosmic dance of existence. Enjoy this beautiful journey.

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How are you feeling lately with the terrible things happening in the United States and worldwide? If you’d like to do something but are unsure what, consider joining me for a meditation for world peace on Monday, November 14th, at 7 p.m.

Mark your calendar, and I’ll email the Zoom link that day.