Duality was the foundation of Mexico’s pre-Columbian worldviews. The universe was conceived as the constant dance of opposing forces—an impossible, eternal embrace. It was the tension between them that beat the even more impossible probabilities and, thus, allowed life to happen.
Mexicans carry that ancient duality in their DNA. If you stay long enough, you will find people that can be boisterous and party-loving, while deep inside they’re grieving. Lebanese-American poet Kahlil Gibran once said that joy and sorrow are inseparable: “Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.”
It is no wonder then, that Mexico’s land of the flowers, Xochimilco—a place so full of life, color, and music—is also one of the favorite spots to celebrate the Day of the Dead, every November. By that time of the year, the vibrant colors of marigolds make it look like a living watercolor. Yet, marigolds are known in Mexico as the flower of the dead. On the presumably solemn nights of the commemoration, Xochimilco’s canals are filled with laughter and celebration. That is the constant dance of life and death.
The seed must perish so it can flourish. Xochimilco is not only a place to grow flowers, it is also the last bastion of pre-Columbian agricultural techniques that feed thousands of Mexico City locals, and home to an unimaginable ecological reserve in the middle of the city: The perfect dance between party and high culture.
No Shit Trips
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