WHEN THE VEIL IS THIN AND OUR FEELINGS ARE NOT

Honoring ancestors and healing our family tree...

A photo I took this weekend in Baton Rouge

Hi, friends:

I’m back home in Colorado after a short trip to Louisiana.

Louisiana is the land of my most recent ancestors on both sides of my family tree. Like the 300-year-old oaks or the massive magnolias, our family’s roots run deep through Louisiana soil and hold multiple generations of memories.

Both sets of grandparents, as well as my parents, met and married there. It’s where I met and married my husband, too. Many seasons of my life took place on that southern soil. Ron and I raised our family, formed lifelong friendships, and birthed and culminated careers. It is where we buried my grandparents and his parents and too many friends. Like my own body, the land holds not only my own memories but those of my ancestors. I was immersed in memories this past week.

Yesterday was also my mother’s birthday. She died in 2015. The same year I made a short film about our fractured relationship. She ran away years before, changed her name, and lived a new life for 30+ years before crossing over. No one in her new life even knew she had adult children, except her new husband who ran away with her. She carried a heavy burden of unhealed pain. While we had a complicated relationship while she was on earth, I am working on healing it now.

My mother’s birthday is the start of a two-week run of ancestor birthdays in my family. Understandably, this time of year always feels potent. Memories, like fall leaves, swirl at my feet and I feel the presence of my mother, maternal grandparents, and my maternal great-grandmother. They feel nearby in a way I can’t quite explain. Clearly, this is not just my personal experience, most ancient cultures around the world hold some form of belief that those who have died — most especially those whom we loved — are not gone, but in some inexplicable way are still with us.

“For the Celts, that belief was seasonal, and we are coming up upon the most famous echo of that idea: Samhain, which is one of the main foundations of our modern Hallowe’en.

At Samhain (pronounced sow-inn, with the “sow” rhyming with “cow”) the ancient Celts believed that the veil between the world of humans and the world of supernatural beings, including the ghosts of the departed dead, thinned to the point where crossing over was possible, even by accident.

…As we move closer to Hallowe’en, we are invited to consider what it looks like for each of us to recognize those who have gone before, to set a place at the table for them, and to express our gratitude for their lives: their pain, their accomplishments, and the way they loved.

For those of us who are Protestants, this task can be tougher than it is for other belief systems. We are taught, either directly or through implication, not to dwell on the dead. But there is a difference between worshipping ghosts and respecting the legacy of our forebearers.

Where does that line sit? I cannot tell you. This glorious season of the ever-thinning veil is a profound opportunity to find it for yourself.” - S. E. Reid, The Wildroot Parables ( check out her beautiful newsletter!)

This opportunity has been a focus of mine during this season for a few years now. I did not grow up with any ritual or tradition around honoring my ancestors, other than, say, tending to their grave sites at Thanksgiving, periodically recounting family stories, or passing down family recipes. A few years back, I began slowly creating practices for myself.

This time of year used to be really tough for me. All their birthdays tumbling out together in a span of two weeks made for a difficult end of October, even though our family has a lot of fun in the Halloween season. I used to just grit my teeth and get through it. I turned my focus to Halloween preparations and sweet little ghosts and goblins knocking on my door for goodies, and fun traditions we have developed in my own little family, like Spooky Food Night. (More on that next week.) I did my best to avoid the pain and the missing on one hand, and the questions and betrayal on the other.

Things finally began to shift for me when I made a commitment to my own healing, and to theirs as well.

We all know that what we resist persists. I stopped running from the memories and began to stand and face them. I made intentional time to connect with these ancestors. I allowed the feelings to pour through me. I gave the questions space. I began to move from resistance to receptivity. And slowly, over time, I am beginning to rebuild, repair and restore the relationships with those who had already passed over.

Death does not end our ability to create healing opportunities with our deceased ancestors. In some ways, it makes deeper healing even more accessible.

This year, with the combination of the trip home to Louisiana, the family birthdays, and this thinning time of year, I can’t help but feel a nudge to share how I now move through the next two weeks and what do I do to contribute to healing our relationships and honoring them— while also soothing my heart— during this season.

Here is a helpful start : a workshop video of the Ayurvedic process I learned from Maya Tiwari for honoring our ancestors. She is an Ayurvedic pioneer, teacher, and Vedic scholar.

But truly, it can be as simple as setting up a space with fresh flowers, a candle, a few photos and ancestor treasures. Spend some intentional time with your ancestors daily during this time of year. What questions do you have for them? What do you need to say? What might you need to hear? How can we honor them and their lives? How can we deepen in understanding of one another?

To repeat S.E. Reid’s words again, “ We are invited to consider what it looks like for each of us to recognize those who have gone before, to set a place at the table for them, and to express our gratitude for their lives: their pain, their accomplishments, and the way they loved.”

No matter how you choose to remember and potentially reconcile with your ancestors, it is work worth our time and energy. At least it is for me.

Last year’s family ancestor altar space

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3 THINGS WORTH SHARING:

1. RIP Leslie Jordan 10/24/22. I did not know him. I had no personal connection to him. I simply benefited from all the joy and laughter he poured into the world. Very sad to hear of his sudden passing today. “The world is definitely a much darker place today without the love and light of Leslie Jordan,” said Jordan’s agent David Shaul in a statement. “Not only was he a mega talent and joy to work with, but he provided an emotional sanctuary to the nation at one of its most difficult times. What he lacked in height he made up for in generosity and greatness as a son, brother, artist, comedian, partner, and human being. Knowing that he has left the world at the height of both his professional and personal life is the only solace one can have today.”

2. Bonus points if you can speak the words of this South Louisiana sign correctly and know what it means:

   

3. And then there’s this excellent reminder:

   

Thanks for tagging along with me, friends. Your companionship here is a gift to me. Say hi in the comments and let me know what you think of the topic of today’s newsletter or if you have a response to it. I plan to share a lot of light-hearted fun in next week’s email! Until then, be kind to yourself.

xoxo Mary