Burning your glooms with Zozobra is a 102-year-old Santa Fe tradition. You write down what’s weighing on you, send it to be stuffed inside the 50-foot effigy, and watch it go up in flames with thousands of neighbors. It’s cathartic, communal, and unforgettable — and it’s one of the most beloved rituals in New Mexico.
Every Labor Day weekend, tens of thousands of people gather at Fort Marcy Park in Santa Fe to watch a 50-foot puppet burn. Inside that towering figure are slips of paper — glooms — sent in from across New Mexico, across the country, and around the world. Each one carries a worry, a regret, a heartbreak, or a frustration that the writer is ready to be free of.
When Zozobra burns, those glooms burn with him. And for a moment, in the firelight and the cheering and the music, the whole crowd lets go together.
This is the story of how that tradition began, why it has lasted more than a century, and how you can be part of it — whether you live down the road from Fort Marcy or halfway around the world.
Where the tradition comes from
Zozobra was created in 1924 by Santa Fe artist Will Shuster, who was inspired by Yaqui and Mexican holy week traditions of burning effigies. Shuster wanted to give Santa Fe something of its own — a way to mark the end of summer, kick off the Fiestas de Santa Fe, and shake off the troubles of the past year.
He called the figure Zozobra, a Spanish word that loosely translates to anguish, anxiety, or gloom. The idea was simple and powerful: take everything that had been weighing people down, put it inside this giant figure, and burn it. Start fresh.
In 1964, Shuster handed the tradition over to the Kiwanis Club of Santa Fe, who have produced the event ever since as a fundraiser for local youth and community programs. What started as a small backyard gathering has grown into one of the largest community celebrations in the American Southwest, drawing tens of thousands of attendees every year.
In 2026, we burn Old Man Gloom for the 102nd time.
What is a gloom, exactly?
A gloom is anything you want to be done with.
It might be a worry that’s been keeping you up at night. A regret you’ve been carrying for too long. A divorce decree. A pink slip. A bad medical report. A photo of someone who hurt you. A bill you finally paid off. A note about a relationship that ended. A page from a diary you’d rather not read again.
Some glooms are heavy. Some are funny. People have submitted parking tickets, eviction notices, hospital bracelets, tax returns, and — famously — a wedding dress or two. There’s no right or wrong gloom. If it feels like something you’re ready to let go of, it belongs in Zozobra.
On the day of the burn, those slips of paper and small mementos are stuffed inside the figure by volunteers. By the time Zozobra rises over the crowd at Fort Marcy Park, he is full of the year’s collected sorrows — ours and yours.
Why writing it down matters
There’s something about putting a worry into words that changes it. As long as a problem is just rolling around in your head, it can feel enormous and shapeless — something that follows you everywhere. The moment you write it down, you have to look at it. You have to choose words for it. You have to decide what it actually is.
Sometimes that’s clarifying. Sometimes it’s painful. Almost always, it’s a relief.
That’s part of why rituals built around writing things down have shown up in almost every culture, in almost every era. From prayer requests slipped into the Western Wall to wishes tied to lanterns at Lunar New Year, people have long understood that giving a worry a physical form is the first step toward setting it down.
Burning what you’ve written takes it one step further. You don’t just name the thing — you watch it disappear.
Why doing it together makes it bigger
You can light a candle alone. You can tear up a piece of paper alone. Those things help.
But there’s a reason people travel from all over the world to stand shoulder to shoulder at Fort Marcy Park on a September evening. Doing this with thousands of other people — strangers, neighbors, families, old friends — turns a private moment into something much bigger.
Everyone around you is letting go of something. You don’t know what their gloom is, and they don’t know yours, but you all came for the same reason. When Zozobra groans and starts to burn, the cheer that goes up is for every single one of those worries at once.
That shared moment is hard to describe to anyone who hasn’t been there. People who grew up in Santa Fe will tell you about being held up on their parents’ shoulders to watch their first burn. People who moved away come home for it. People who married into New Mexico families learn quickly that Zozobra is not optional.
It is, plainly, one of the most cathartic experiences you can have in a crowd.
How to write a good gloom
There’s no formula, but a few things help.
Be specific. “I’m worried about everything” is harder to let go of than “I’m worried about my mom’s surgery next month.” The more honest and specific you are, the more it feels like you’re actually handing something over.
Be honest. Nobody is going to read your gloom. It goes straight into Zozobra and burns. You don’t have to soften it or make it sound reasonable. Whatever it is, write it the way you actually feel it.
Don’t overthink it. Some of the most powerful glooms are one sentence long. Some are a single word. Some people draw instead of writing. Some people send a photograph. Whatever you put on that paper, the act of choosing it is the point.
And if you’re sending more than one gloom — plenty of people do — that’s fine, too. A year can have a lot in it.
How to submit your gloom
There are two ways to get your gloom into Zozobra.
If you’re in Santa Fe, you can bring your gloom in person during designated Gloom Deposit days in the weeks leading up to the burn. Information about times and locations is posted each summer on the official Burning of Zozobra website. There’s often a Gloom Box at City Hall and at other community spots around town.
If you’re not in town — or even if you are and you’d rather skip the trip — you can submit your gloom digitally through the official online portal. Glooms submitted through the portal are printed out and added to the figure along with everything else. Whether you’re writing from Albuquerque, Anchorage, or Amsterdam, your gloom ends up inside Zozobra all the same.
Both methods carry the same weight. The figure doesn’t know the difference, and neither does the fire.
Burning a gloom at home
Some people like to do their own small version of the ritual at home, especially in the days leading up to the burn. There’s nothing wrong with that, and it’s a nice way to prepare yourself for the big night.
If you want to try it, write your worry on a piece of paper, find a safe place to burn it — a fireplace, an outdoor fire pit, or a fire-safe bowl on a non-flammable surface — and watch it go. Keep water nearby. Don’t burn anything indoors unless you have proper ventilation. Don’t leave a fire unattended.
If fire isn’t practical, you can tear the paper up, shred it, soak it, bury it, or flush it. The point isn’t the flame. The point is the choice to be done with whatever you wrote down.
And if a worry feels too heavy for paper and a match — if it’s something that keeps coming back no matter what you do — please talk to someone. A friend, a family member, a doctor, a counselor, a priest. Zozobra is a tradition we love, but it’s not a substitute for the people in your life who can really help.
When the tradition matters most
People send glooms in good years and in hard ones.
In the good years, it’s often a way of marking the end of something — a job you’re ready to leave, a chapter that’s closing on a high note, an old grudge you’re finally willing to put down. In the hard years — the years with grief in them, or loss, or fear — it can feel like the only thing that makes sense.
After difficult seasons in New Mexico’s history — droughts, fires, the pandemic, hard local and national news — we’ve seen submissions multiply. The figure gets stuffed fuller. The cheers when he burns get louder. People need somewhere to put what they’ve been carrying, and Zozobra has been that place for more than a hundred years.
That’s the gift of a tradition this old. It was here before you needed it, and it will be here the next time you do.
What happens at the burn
If you’ve never been, here’s what to expect.
Gates at Fort Marcy Park open in the afternoon. The event runs into the evening, with food vendors, music, and entertainment leading up to the main event. As the sun goes down, the energy in the crowd builds.
Zozobra himself stands about 50 feet tall, dressed differently every year to reflect the theme. He sways. He groans. He waves his enormous arms. Children boo him. Adults boo him too, honestly. The Fire Spirit dancer performs at his feet.
And then, after the chants of “Burn him! Burn him!” reach a roar, he goes up.
The fireworks are part of it. The music is part of it. But what people remember, what they come back for, is the moment the figure catches fire and everything they wrote down on those slips of paper inside him burns too.
Then we all go home a little lighter.
Frequently Asked Questions
Come let something go with us
Whether you’re heading to Fort Marcy in person, gathering with family to watch the livestream, or just sending a gloom from your kitchen table, you’re part of this.
Write down what you’re ready to be done with. Send it our way. We’ll take it from here.
See you at the burn!
