Dancing with Death: Deities of Death, Demise, Doom, and... Dance?

Death comes to us all, and there’s nothing we can do about it. No matter how many preservative drugs we pump into our bodies, no matter how many face lifts and tummy tucks we undergo, and no matter how many salads we eat or miles we run in a day, we will all die. Death is one of the very few experiences that all living beings have in common – it’s such a shame we can’t share that experience!

It comes as no surprise then to discover that throughout the world’s cultures, in almost every mythology, there is a figure or God who personifies the natural process of death. Sometimes this figure is death itself, and at other times the figure is merely associated with the process of death and endings.

The Dance of Death (1493) by Michael Wolgemut, from the Liber chronicarum by Hartmann Schedel. Image is in the public domain.

Images of death abound. This is particularly true of Europe, where the Black Death of the 14th-17th centuries took such a toll that it could not escape some sort of attempt to convey its effect to the world. It is during this period when the infamous Danse Macabre was born: the image of death or a group of skeletons leading people in a dance. The faces of the skeletons grin with laughter, as they take the hands of the young, old, rich, poor, male and female alike. Sometimes there are no people present: just skeletons and the newly dead, as in the 1493 The Dance of Death by Michael Wolgemut.

The theme of Death touching every kind of person, no matter what their gender, social influence, and material gains, continues throughout time to the modern era in imagery. The Tarot image of Death (numbered XIII, and sometimes not given a name at all to reflect the fear people have of it) often depicts a skeleton on a horse or a Grim Reaper figure reaping the dead bodies of all sorts of people: a king, a maiden, a bishop, a child… This is particularly clear in the Rider Waite Smith Tarot deck.

Death, from the 1909 Rider Waite Smith publication. Entire deck courtesy of Holly Voley. Image is in the public domain.

Modern culture is also pervaded with images of Death: the Grim Reaper, the Ferryman, and more. Films feature a guest appearance from Death himself (see, for instance, Bill and Ted’s Bogus Journey, in which the eponymous duo are challenged to a contest in order to save their lives… Instead, they give Death a melvin and escape.) Music also finds itself fascinated with Death: for instance, Blue Oyster Cult released a song called “Don’t Fear the Reaper” the lyrics of which represent a more romanticized and sympathetic view of death:

“Came the last night of sadness
And it was clear she couldn't go on
Then the door was open and the wind appeared
The candles blew then disappeared
The curtains flew then he appeared [saying don't be afraid]
Come on baby [and she had no fear]
And she ran to him [then they started to fly]
They looked backward and said goodbye [she had become like they are]
She had taken his hand [she had become like they are]
Come on baby [don't fear the reaper.]”

It would take thousands upon thousands of pages to do justice to the innumerable references to Death in literature, film, and music, let alone in art throughout the centuries. But the brief exploration above gives you some idea of the prevalence of the concept of Death as a figure in the mind of many people around the world. Death is something we all have to face, and thus it is understandable that we try to come to terms with that through our arts. But most importantly, we face it through religion.

I’ve already said that Death is often personified as a God in many religions. But this God isn’t just an embodiment of the process of death. He/she is also often a dancer as well. (Note: in this article I will be excluding underworld deities, since they seem to be distinct in many cases from deities of death.) This may seem odd to most people, since dancing and death appear to be completely difference and distinct. But before we make that conclusion, let us examine some of the deities in question. We’ve already visited Europe with La Danse Macabre, so next up is a trip to and New Orleans.

Baron Samedi

When someone says Vodou (also spelled ‘voodoo’), after the images of voodoo dolls and zombies have left your mind, you will inevitably find a figure in there that is immediately recognizable. And not only because he featured in a James Bond film (Live and Let Die, 1973.) This figure is a skeleton or handsome black man, with pretty sharp tailoring (black top hat, black tail coat, white shirt) who smokes like a chimney, drinks like a fish, and swears like a trooper.

Nurturer (Queen) of Wands - Baron Samedi from Sol Invictus: The God Tarot by Kim Huggens and Nic Phillips. Reproduced with permission.

His appearance, of course, is reminiscent of an undertaker or somebody attending a funeral procession. Baron Samedi (Baron Saturday) is the lord of the dead in Vodou, and the head of the family known as Ghede. He resides in cemeteries, and listens to the dead as they talk. It is the Baron (along with his lovely wife who we will come to later) who is responsible for choosing spirits of the dead to become lwa (Gods) themselves. The Baron is especially fond of really, really spicy food and drinks lots of rum (often laced with chilli peppers): since he is dead, he cannot be affected by spicy and strong foods or alcohol.

You’d think that being the lwa of the dead would make Baron Samedi a sombre figure, but that is definitely not the case. The reality comes when you understand his philosophy: he is death, so he knows that everybody comes to him in the end. As such, he says that we should all enjoy life and live it to the full whilst we still have it. He also says we should have lots of sex, since sex allows us to continue the species beyond our death. The Baron laughs at people who try to escape death, laughs at the futility of their actions, and sees life as one big party. (He also laughs at sex: once again, he is dead so cannot feel sexual pleasure, and he also gets to see our faces mid coitus. Now that’s funny.) His sense of humour is contagious and filthy, and guess what? He’s a fantastic dancer.

In possession, Baron Samedi will dance provocatively, often using his walking cane to imitate a large phallus, swinging it around at groin height, pointing it at any pretty ladies present. His dance is called the Banda, and it is a hips-led dance with much twirling, grinding, and thrusting. It is dirty, lewd, and sexy.

Why does he dance? Because as a lwa of death he encourages life and fulfilment. In a way, it is an escape from true death: the death that comes when we have not lived our lives fully and to the brim. Dance epitomizes this: its movements usually simulate sex, make the body look pleasing and attractive to whoever it is we wish to attract, gets the blood racing and the temperature rising, and fills us with joy. Dance is like sex in that it often starts slow and timid, and then works its way up to a climax (tee hee *insert immature giggles here*) that leaves us sated, exhausted, and brimming with life. 

Manman Brigitte

The Baron’s lovely wife. He has often be said to boast in possession that he “fucks the beautiful woman Brigitte every night!”, again reinforcing the link between sex, death, and dance (le petit mort anybody?) Manman Brigitte is similar to the Baron in that she also rules over cemeteries and the dead, but she is a lot more gentle and quiet than her spouse. Where Baron Samedi is renowned for turning up to any ritual regardless of who it is for, Manman Brigitte will only come if invited. Her presence is one of peace, silence, and calm.

Until she dances.

And when she does, she exudes and channels sexual energy. Her dance is less crude than the Baron’s, and far more elegant yet still highly energetic.

Interestingly, the first woman buried in a new cemetery is dedicated to Manman Brigitte and the first man dedicated to Baron Samedi. Similarly, if the first person buried in a cemetery is female then that graveyard is ruled over by Manman, if a man then Baron. Brigitte is also associated with academia and justice – Baron is also, since both of them are associated with crosses (headstones) they are often appealed to for aid in bringing about equality and balance in justice.

As mother and father of the dead, Brigitte and Baron are death itself, as well as watching over the dead and listening to them. Yet they also affirm death’s exact opposite: life. It is to these lwa that couples trying for a baby will appeal to, and to them that ill children are put under the protection of.

Oya

Strongly related to Baron and Brigitte, yet distinct nonetheless, is the Santeria Orisha, Oya. Some people view her as the Santeria ‘version’ of Brigitte, since their attributes are highly similar.

Oya is the Orisha of cemeteries and graveyards, and she guides the newly dead through their transition between life and afterlife. She is usually depicted with her face covered, holding a flywhisk (symbol of royalty) and a machete (which she uses to cut away falsehood and leave only truth remaining.) Oya is sometimes called “Ayaba ni Kua” – “Queen of Death”, and is the first and last breath taken. She is also an Orisha of the winds, torrential rain, hurricanes, storms, and tornadoes. Her rainbow skirts flap to cause the winds; she spits lightning from her tongue; her tears are the rainfall. As such, she can be a very destructive and forceful Orisha. This is carried over into her aspect as a warrioress: she is said to “put on pants” to go to war, riding into battle alongside her husband, Chango.

Because of the machete she usually wields, Oya – like Brigitte – is associated with academia, truth, and justice, and as a warrioress she also fights for the underdog and protects the innocent. And, just like Baron, Oya listens to the dead who know and see all – so she knows who is innocent and who is not.

But on top of all this, Oya is a dancer. She dances in the tornadoes and on the wind, and she dances on graves. Her dance is the dance of life and death intertwined. She is often called the spirit of change as well: change being the process of death and endings that create room for birth and new beginnings.

Kali and Shiva

What article about death and dance would be complete without this divine couple? Moving over to and Hinduism, we find Kali and Shiva – consorts who are not only both associated with death and destruction, but also with dance.  

Kali is known as a warrior Goddess who was born from Durga in order to battle an army of demons that was attacking the Gods and Goddesses. The most memorable myth about her is that after she returned from slaying demons in battle she was so enraged with bloodlust that she danced and destroyed as she went, completely mad with war frenzy. Her husband, Shiva, could not stop her with any means other than laying himself on the ground before her to try and bring her to her senses. Unfortunately, she trampled him to death before she realized what she was doing.

Kali is often seen as trampling and destroying the demons of the passions or of materialism that distracts us from our true natures. She destroys ignorance and sin, evil and illusion. She is usually depicted with her hands and feet stained with blood, her skin as black as night, and her red tongue straining out of her mouth in ecstasy. She is a Goddess streaming in blood:

“All blood ever shed in sacrifice or conflict streams down her brilliant black limbs like crimson blossoms floating on dark waters.” (Hixon, 1994, 24.)

Like her consort, Kali is said to be attracted to cremation grounds. She is also said to release souls from this world and liberate people from their concerns and worries:

“Mysterious Ma Kali,
Cremation grounds are your great delight,
For there you release souls from mundane experience.
I have transformed my heart into a cremation ground
So you will be attracted here to dance
As flames of liberating bliss.”
(Hixon, 1994, 127.)

Here, Kali is the fire that consumes and destroys the corpse during cremation, releasing the soul trapped within it. Shiva as well is associated with cremation grounds, being an ascetic God who meditates in the grounds, covered in cremation ash. Shiva is the part of the Hindu trinity who destroys creation. He is the inescapable end of the universe and all time, which makes way for Brahma to create once more. Shiva is seen as constantly causing change and destruction in the universe, as this passage from a Shaivite devotional poem suggests:

“Listen, O lord of the meeting rivers,
Things standing shall fall,
But the moving ever shall stay.”
(Ramanujan, 1973, 88.)

XVI The Tower – Shiva from Sol Invictus: The God Tarot by Kim Huggens and Nic Phillips. Reproduced with permission.

Shiva is depicted with a third eye called Jñana, which when it opens causes the destruction of the universe. Like Kali, he is also depicted in statues and images as dancing on the body of a demon – thought to represent, amongst other things, ignorance and materialism.

There would not be enough space here to talk about more deities of death and their relation to dance, and certainly not all death Gods and Goddesses are dancers as well. But a significant number of them are, and tied in with their attributes as guardians of death and destruction is an underlying theme of life and the affirmation of it. Brigitte and Baron encourage people to live life deliberately, fiercely, and passionately because death is inevitable. Oya brings with her destruction new beginnings and change. Kali and Shiva’s destruction and death liberates the soul and self from its trappings, and without Shiva’s destruction no subsequent creation can take place.

Deities such as these force you to reconsider mankind’s view of death. Perhaps, underneath the funeral clothes, corpse cloth, and dirges we do see something beyond and better? Perhaps with the seldom mentioned taboo of *gasp* death and decay comes the recognition of life being a precious gift. And deep down perhaps we realize that death, sex, life, and dance are four things that are far more similar than we would like to think.

Bibliography and Further Reading

Ramanujan, A.K. trans. Speaking of Siva. London: Penguin Books, 1973.

Hixon, Lex. Mother of the Universe: Visions of the Goddess and Tantric Hymns of Enlightenment. London: Quest Books, 1994.

Teish, Luisah. Jambalaya: The Natural Woman’s Book of Personal Charms and Practical Rituals. New York: HarperCollins, 1988.

Glassman, Sallie-Ann. Vodou Visions: An Encounter with Divine Mystery. New York: Villard, 2000.

Hurbon, Laennec. Voodoo: Search for the Spirit. New York: Harry N. Abrams Inc., 1995.

Kinsley, David R. The Sword and the Flute, Kali and Krishna: Dark visions of the terrible and sublime in Hindu mythology. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1977.