Many people believe that we honor our beloved dead by bringing flowers or stones to the cemetary at certain points throughout the year. It is our duty to remember them as such. But once that is done what about our ancestors? Do we spend any time with them? Are we seeking them for wisdom in healing them and us of our ancestral wounds? I want to take a few minutes to explore this.
I need to say this first. I was raised in a conservative, Christian church background. As such, I was taught that speaking to the dead was something that good little christian boys and girls didnt do. It was witchy, it was demonic and well … it was just plain wrong. I buried my grandfather who raised me and my dad before by the time I was 19 years old. My other grandparents, by the time I was 25. These individuals were the ones that nurtured me, raised me and taught me everything I know and now I am not allowed to talk to them because they are dead. And so I never went to the cemetary after the day that I buried them. No flowers, no visits because to have to go and remain silent, only remembering them in my memories was more than I could handle at my young age.
It was just last year, in the midst of the pandemic, that I stumbled over something that changed my life concerning this. I have already been practicing shamanism for several years by this time and realizing that ancestral work was part of what I should be doing. I dabbled with it a few times with minimal results. But then, by a way which I honestly dont even remember, I came across the biblical reference to what is known in christian theology as the Transfiguration of Christ. It was a point when Jesus was on a mountain top with three of his disciples and was glorified to the point that he shone brighter than the sun for a moment. This was witnessed by the three disciples. But something else interesting happened. Let me drop the scripture reference right here for you.This is taken from Luke’s account and it is The Voice Translation
Jesus was changing before their eyes, beginning with His face. It seemed to glow. The glow spread, and even His clothing took on a blinding whiteness. Then, two figures appeared in the glorious radiance emanating from Jesus. The three disciples somehow knew that these figures were Moses and Elijah. Peter, James, and John overheard the conversation that took place among Jesus, Moses, and Elijah—a conversation that centered on Jesus’ “departure” and how He would accomplish this departure from the capital city, Jerusalem.
Now, I hope you caught what I had missed all this time. Jesus was having a conversation with Moses and Elijah. Both of these long, dead and gone. I know there may be some reading this post who would contend that Elijah was carried away in a chariot of fire and to that extent he may not be dead. Moses , however, was declared dead in the first few passages of the book of Joshua. Moses was dead … and Jesus was talking with a dead man.
I know that sometimes I can be a little late to the party but for me this was extraordinary. If Jesus was having a conversation with dead Moses, then no matter what the Old Testament had to say about talking with the dead, no matter what any church had taught me about it mattered anymore. If it was wrong then Jesus would not have done. This was my waking point for being able to open a dialogue with my family, long since buried.
I collected pictures of each of them and placed them on their own altar. I found items or letters that reminded me of them and placed them on the altar. I started going back to the cemetary where they are buried, not only to place flowers but also to have conversations. At first it seemed strange. I had to rise up and kill my own hypocrisy. I used to think that people who went and talked to cemetary stones that marked that place of dead bodies were flaky and unbalanced. I now envied that they were comfortable owning their ability to do this while I was being judgmental over their practice.
I continued to visit. I played music that my grandmother loved. I smoked cigars with my grandfather and my dad, both of who used to enjoy this practice while on this plane of existence. I talked with them about any and everything. I even took my daughter, who is an adult with children of her own, to visit her ancestors.
And then it happened. After months and months of what seemed like a one way conversation it finally happened. I was sitting in sacred space, half praying and half meditating when my great grandfather, who I have never met, came forward and spoke to me. I was thrilled that they were making connection with me. His wife, my great grandmother, who I also had never met was next. Slowly, one by one, my ancestors began to speak with me. Not for long periods but enough to let me know they were near and they were listening. My paternal grandparents who raised me were next to come forward. I am still waiting to hear from my dad, but I know it time we will speak to one another.
So I have laid all this foundation out for those who may be struggling with making contact with your ancestors. For those who already have been in contact with your loved ones on the other side, keep up the good work.
By doing what is known in spiritual circles as ancestral work, we bring harmony and healing to our entire family. We gain the wisdom of the struggles that our ancestors went through and overcame. We are given their wounds and failures that we may bring healing and completion to what they did not in their lifetime here on Earth. It is a sacred trust and a family duty to bridge the gap and repair the damage of many generations. We have been called to do this for the healing of our family both forward and backward. We truly stand on the shoulders of those who have gone before us while realizing that someday our childrens children will stand upon ours.
This is an amazing and special time of the year. The veil between the natural and the spiritual is at it thinnest and is a perfect time to reach out to those who are part of the great cloud of witness; those who have gone on before us but remain always with us. I encourage you, dear readers, to take time out to honor your ancestors in whatever way seems right to you. Remember them, speak with them and continue to tell their stories. It is only when we forget to tell their stories that they truly are dead.
Aho Metakuyeh Oheisan
Thom
The Shepherd Shaman 