Honoring Tradition: Incorporating Cultural Holidays Respectfully

Photo by Andrew Knechel on Unsplash

A few years ago, I stood in front of a small ofrenda set up in a neighbor's living room. There were marigolds — bright orange ones, still carrying that sharp, earthy scent — photographs of people I didn't know, a glass of water, a favorite meal left out like a place setting. I didn't say much. I just took it in. And I remember thinking that this was one of the most tender things I had ever seen: a whole tradition built around the idea that love doesn't stop when someone is gone.

That's Día de los Muertos, at its heart. It falls on November 1st and 2nd, rooted in Indigenous Mexican traditions and woven together over centuries with Catholic observance of All Saints' Day and All Souls' Day. Families build ofrendas — altars — to welcome back the spirits of loved ones who have passed. They bring out photos, light candles, leave food and objects that meant something to the person being remembered. The mood isn't grief exactly. It's more like a reunion, bittersweet and full of warmth.

I think about this holiday a lot when I'm working on designs that touch on cultural traditions. There's a real difference between honoring something and just borrowing its most recognizable parts. And I notice that difference most clearly when I ask myself: what is this actually about?

What Makes a Tradition Worth Slowing Down For

Día de los Muertos has become more visible in recent years — you see the imagery everywhere in October and November. Sugar skulls, papel picado, marigold garlands. Some of it is genuinely beautiful. Some of it is decoration that has been pulled away from its meaning. I don't say that with judgment toward anyone who has done it without knowing — I've made my own missteps along the way. But I do think it's worth pausing before using the symbols of someone else's tradition and asking what they actually mean.

The sugar skull, or calavera, isn't just a fun graphic. It's a representation of a soul. The marigold, or cempasúchil, is said to guide spirits home with its scent and its color. The ofrenda isn't a decorative display — it's an act of love and remembrance. When you know that, it changes how you engage with the imagery. It becomes something to handle with care.

The Small, Genuine Ways to Engage

I've noticed that the most respectful way to approach a cultural holiday you didn't grow up with is usually the quietest way. Not the grandest gesture, but the most honest one.

For Día de los Muertos, that might look like:

• Learning the actual story. Reading about the Aztec roots of the holiday, the role of the goddess Mictecacihuatl, the way the tradition survived colonization and evolved over generations. That history matters.
• Buying from makers within the culture. If you want papel picado, marigold wreaths, or hand-painted calavera art, I always look for artists and shops run by people from the Mexican and Mexican-American communities who have a living connection to this tradition. Their work carries something that a mass-produced version simply doesn't.
• Letting the meaning guide the gesture. If you want to mark the holiday in your own home — even if it isn't your tradition — I think there's something genuinely moving about setting out a photo of someone you've lost, lighting a candle, and sitting with that for a moment. That's not appropriation. That's one human recognizing another human practice of grief and love.

On Gifts That Carry Weight

At ArtInScienceDesigns, I'm drawn to the place where art and meaning overlap. When I think about gifts connected to Día de los Muertos, I'm not thinking about novelty items. I'm thinking about pieces that hold something real — a print that someone could put near a photo of a loved one, something that acknowledges the season of remembrance rather than just the aesthetic of it.

I think the most meaningful gifts around this time of year are the ones that say: I know you carry people with you. A small piece of art for a home altar. A candle. Something handmade by an artist who understands the tradition from the inside. Those are the things worth giving.

I also think there's something to be said for gifting experiences of learning — a book about the history of the holiday, a documentary watched together, an afternoon at a community celebration if one is happening nearby. Those are gifts that don't wear out.

A Note on Faith and Memory

One thing I find genuinely beautiful about Día de los Muertos is that it holds grief and joy in the same hands. There's a faith underneath it — a belief that the dead are not entirely gone, that love crosses whatever boundary death puts up, that the people we've lost still deserve a seat at the table. I find that moving regardless of the specific tradition it comes from. It rhymes with something I believe too: that the people we love leave marks on us that don't fade.

That's worth honoring. Carefully, honestly, and with real attention to where the tradition comes from and who it belongs to.

When I look at what I carry into my own work and my shop, I keep coming back to that ofrenda I stood in front of years ago. The marigolds. The photographs. The glass of water set out like a welcome. There was so much intention in all of it. That's the standard I try to hold — not perfection, just intention.

If you're looking for pieces that carry that kind of care, I'd invite you to take a look at what I have in the shop. I think you'll find things made with exactly that in mind.

If this one stuck with you, my Advent Candle Paint-by-Number Kit Personalize It for... might be useful too. It's a digital download on Gumroad. (It's also in my Etsy shop.)

---

Simple, thoughtful gifts for meaningful holidays.

Browse handmade items in my Etsy shop.

Visit my Creative Fabrica store or find downloads on Gumroad.

#gifts #holidays #simpleliving #etsyshop #creativefabrica #artinsciencedesigns