Ancestors' Dreams

We are our ancestors' wildest dreams.

As this gentle ancestor stares into that place called 'middle distance,' I wonder what she's seeing..... who she's listening for....

In my quiet lucid dream state, I rest on a bench beside her. She turns her head slightly, slides her eyes in my directions. The corners of her mouth barely turn up. Then she returns to her vague focus stare.

"What do you see, Grandmother?" I whisper.

"You, my child."

I blink, turn my head to see what she sees. A shadow-child slips across my field of vision. I blink again... and it's gone.

"How can you see me there when I am here beside you?"

"It is you ~ and not you, my darling. It is a wild dream of one who is to come. One who will heal the lineage from which she came. One who will dare to bring about the deepest and most necessary soul changes."

I was afraid to speak lest I jar her from her vision .... which is what I realized she was in. There was still more to come. I could see it in her eyes, clear and keen; in her posture, body alert and forward; in the way she held her head, tipped ever-so-slightly to one side as if listening for something.

A barking laugh emerged from her. After a pause, another. Then she lifted her head and a full, deep, extended belly laugh bubbled out of her. I smiled as I sat beside her, infected with the joy she was expressing.

"There are many of you, child. Many who will carry forth the life of our people as they walk on this earth. It brings me great joy to see their wild dancing selves! They laugh, play, love, wander. All the phases of life and earth bloom within them. Nothing grows without them."

I wanted to ask how she knew this. I wanted to tell her I understood. I wanted to run and hide. So much was in her vision of the world. How could I live up to her expectations?

As though she read my thoughts, she said, "It is not only you, child. It is all my children and my children's children and my children's children's children on and on and on. That's what brings me joy. Because it also brings me hope."

I sat beside her for awhile longer. Quiet, reflective. One moment I was aware of her at my elbow, the next my head was jerking up as though from dozing. The old woman was gone. My memory of her was clear yet ever so slowly fading. I found myself staring into that same middle distance she did ~ and wondering when I would be old enough and wise enough to see the way she saw.

What would your ancestor look like? How would you be with them? What does your dreaming self hear them say? How do you express being your ancestors' wildest dream? How would you like to dream your children's and children's children's worlds?

Sum Total

"Life did not begin at my birth. ... I am the sum total of [others'] experiences, their quests."

Although my thoughts and my dreams often circle around my personal life, I am continually expanding those horizons. I have the choice of limiting myself, of putting blinders on. All I see then is what's in front of my own face. It's easier to live that way. I don't have to see, acknowledge or encounter what is going on around me. I don't have to read opinions or ideas that I don't already have or agree with. That would be the simpler way to live.

What Wiesel suggests is that life is not that simple. When we stop learning, refuse to expand our knowledge and experience, we miss the fullness of beauty. We lose sight of the beauty that lies in diversity and difference. Just as a flower garden is made up of a variety of sizes, colors and blossoms, so the world around us is made up of beauty.

His words ~ "divine beauty" ~ suggest that through diversity, exposing ourselves to what has come before as well as what walks beside us, we are lead to whatever we find or name as Divine or Holy.

As we look beyond ourselves, we have the choice to envision a different world and create a different mythos for the present and the future. We have the opportunity to leave things as they are, to believe we are powerless, or to broaden and share our experiences and our quests, adding them to the sum total that balances our world.

In light of recent events, what do you want to learn? How do the stories of your ancestors affect your choice? What do you want to leave for the generations that follow? How will you contribute to the sum total balancing the world?

All Souls Day of the Dead

All Souls Night by Loreena McKennitt

All Souls Day. The Day of the Dead. Another day to remember and honor our dead. Another day to recognize the thin veils between the worlds. An electrifying time of year as people feel the energy and pressure of those on the other side of that incorporeal veil.

Loreena McKennitt's song All Souls Night describes today in haunting terms:

Standing on the bridge that crosses
the river that goes out to the sea.
The wind is full of a thousand voices.
They pass by the bridge and me.

We find comfort in our search to know what's happened to our loved ones after death. We long to know they are safe, holding space for us. This day we honor our ancestors ~ as well as reiterate they are on the other side of the veil. It's a time to visit, to acknowledge our continued connection, to express our gratitude, to heal.

After spending most of our year in the solid reality of our daily lives, having a day or two where we feel or hear or see those who have gone before us can strike us as eerie, scary, unnerving. Many of our workaday worlds teach us that death means our loved ones, our ancestors are gone. So when we feel the breeze of their presence or hear a long lost voice or catch a glimpse of someone clothed with familiar clothing, we are shaken and assume we are crazed.

Not today. Not in this brief season from All Hallows Eve to All Souls Day or the Day of the Dead. Now we allow ourselves to be comforted by the watchfulness of our ancestors. We have them momentarily near us again. Watch for them. Thank them and let them go. Today is the perfect day for that.

Which of your ancestors do you most miss? To whom do you feel connected? How does this season show up in your life? How do you sense the passing of the souls on the bridge between the worlds? What rituals do you use to honor them? to let them go?

Talking about Death

We live in a culture where the mere mention of death is taboo. Unless it's in a movie. Or The Walking Dead. Or the Grateful Dead.

Full-blown discussions are totally out of the question. Spending my entire day yesterday with 500 other people immersed in activities, discussions and presentations focused on every aspect of death was awesome.

It began with two keynote speakers. The first was Barbara Roberts, the former Governor of Oregon and advocate of Death with Dignity. She spoke briefly and passionately about her experiences as her husband Frank was dying of lung cancer. Her book Death without Denial, Grief without Apology: a Guide for Facing Death and Loss chronicles her experiences of grieving.

The second keynote was longer, given by Stephen Jenkinson, founder of the Orphan Wisdom School, a teaching and learning house in eastern Canada. As a storyteller, he related stories from his two decades of work with people dying and grieving that were chronicled in his recently published book, Die Wise: a Manifesto for Sanity and Soul. His presentation overflowed with his compassion, dedication, humor and hard truth. He expressed his views and experiences reverently and irreverently and all who listened, all 500 of us, hung on his every word.

I attended sessions for three of the four breakout times:

• the shamanic practice of meeting the soul friend who will accompany me through my death passage; 
• writing my own obituary;
• practicing mindful photography for intimate care-providers as a loved one is dying.

Friends who were there attended other breakout sessions. I didn't see any of them in mine. We met up at lunch and shared our feelings and our session titles. Everything else was too new or too tender or too long a tale.

What I recognize within my own heart and soul is that I struggle with reclaiming the D words: Death, Dying, Dead. I've spent years giving them up for the more politically correct passed over, departed this reality, is no longer with us. All of these terms prevent me from facing that the person who has died will not be returning. I will no longer see her face, hear his voice, feel her hand in mine. If I continue to think in terms that are less than final, do I allow myself to fully grieve? to embrace the memories? What also came to me through every session and encounter during the day was the tip of another iceberg: If I deny the word and the depth of its meaning, will I miss the fullness of life? Will I put off embraces, passions, experiences thinking that not only they but also those who might share them with me will always be around? How do I balance the sense of finality with the expression of joy? So much to ponder!

How do you talk about death? What's been your most recent experience? Is it different now than when you were younger? How do you feel when you hear the D words? Why? How do you respond?

All Hallows Day

All Saints' Day in Poland

My personal and spiritual continually unfolding myth includes both the Pagan celebrations, such as Samhain or Hallowe'en, and the Christian celebrations, like All Hallows or All Saints' Day. Both encourage the honoring of the ancestors, of those who have already passed through the veil from this world to the next.

The image above is of a graveyard in Poland where there is an honoring of those who have died. Flowers and candles abound as far as the eye can see. It reminds me of a variety of festive days: weddings, family birthdays, funerals, graduations. Any of the days we choose to celebrate are decorated with floral arrangements and honored with lit candles.

I knew few of my ancestors. My maternal grands died when my mother was a teenager. My paternal grandfather died when I was perhaps five. I recall very little about him, except that my brother and I would play on his sick bed and he enjoyed our company. My maternal grandmother died when I was seventeen. My high school graduation was her last family event. I have stories of all of them. Images and words surface in the dreamtime, arising from that stored genetic pool of memory. This is a day when I can sit within that dreamtime, connect with them, talk through my day, the course of my life, gather tidbits of wisdom from them. At the close of day, I blow out the candles with a heart filled with gratitude, joy and grief. What an amazing time.

How do you honor your ancestors? What do you feel when you think of them? What would you like to say to them? to ask of them? to share with them? What do you want from them? Are you pleased with their responses?

Thinning of the Veils

This is the time of year where we clearly talk about and accept that there is a thinness to the veils between the worlds of the living and the dead. There are also those who are no longer living, yet have not yet fully embraced the world of the dead. They too step between the veils more readily at this time of year.

I've long been amazed and amused by the three days that join together during this time. Three, a number sacred to God and Goddess alike: Trinity, Trident, Triple Goddess.
Found at http://www.fisheaters.com/customstimeafterpentecost12aa.html:
     31 October: Hallowe'en: unofficially recalls the souls of the damned.
     1 November: All Saints: set aside to officially honor the Church Triumphant.
     2 November: All Souls: set aside officially to pray for the Church Suffering.
In these three days, we have the opportunity to acknowledge those who have gone from this world to the next. We can choose to be present to the comings and goings of our ancestors, our friends, all those who have gone before. We can choose to listen for their voices in the wind, in the dreamtime, in our memories. We can create ceremony and ritual to honor the wisdom of those who have gone beyond the veil.

What presence will you make available for your ancestors? How will you honor them?