Sacred Tabernacles [part 7 of 9]: Connecting with the Ancestors
The ziziphus thorn from the tree of life for the Nguni people of southern Africa appears on the cover of McCallum’s book (2008), Ecological Intelligence. McCallum describes the Nguni legend of this unique branch from the tree where one thorn points forward and the other “curves back and inward in the opposite direction. …tell[ing] us something about ourselves—that we must look ahead, to the future… but we must never forget where we have come from (2008, p. 13).
In her book, The Way of the Ancestors, Joan Halifax complements McCallum’s sentiment for modern society when she says “[w]e think that the ancestors are behind us, but they are actually those who go before us. They are a vanguard, a spirit wave that pulls us along. …the darkness of the past for the light that is hidden by time” (1993, p. 190).
Our very existence is intimately tied to that of our ancestors.
The notion that we have to create a new path, or find our way independently without the benefit of the wisdom of all those who came before us is terrifying and exhausting. Yet, most of us wake up with that belief every day.
Shamanic tradition and indigenous ways offer us the rich wisdom of our ancestors. These traditions encourage a willingness to reconcile and heal old wounds that have been handed to us along with our skin tone and eye shape. Knowing whose shoulders we are standing on is an awareness that carries the blessings of all the lessons they learned and, for many, an inheritance we have yet to fully claim.
Even if we have some inkling of our ancestry, practices, myths, and traditions may be buried or lost. In Water and Stone, as Kimmy Johnson remembers trying to find her way to ceremony to honor a fawn’s sacrifice, she speaks for so many of us when she says: “I am an orphan of ancestral traditions—traditions that shape birth and death into meaning and song” (Jaenke & Johnson, 1998, p. 141).
Because our parents and grandparents may also have been orphans without a compass for ancestral ways, it is critical to seek the wisdom of those who are here and remember, who provide support, and companionship regardless of the shared genetic roots. Community with others, both the ancestors and living humans, who share our desire to live in balance with nature are necessary for cultural transformation.
In the acknowledgement of our ancestors and apologies for our historical lack of respect and humility, we might reclaim the companionship, guidance, and wisdom of both our genetic ancestors and the ancestors of the landscapes where we now live.
Remarkably, some shamans and elders are willing to share their ways with us, in hopes of averting the destruction of our Earth. In Shaman’s Drum, Joan Parisi Wilcox tells of the 1995 Q’ero prophecy of “take onkoy, a time of transmission of spiritual power to ‘gestate the luminous body of the world’…to reunite the great spiritual traditions of North and South, and to gather together the peoples of the Four Directions” (1994, p. 42). Not only are these indigenous healers willing to open their hearts and ways to us, it is their mission to welcome western culture into their place in the natural world.
Vine Deloria, in the prologue to The World We Used to Live In: Remembering the Powers of the Medicine Men, speaks to the power of learning from ancestral wisdom when he says “that there was wholeness in the manner in which our ancestors related to the world that transcended the popular beliefs of today and had a place in human understanding alongside other great spiritual and philosophical traditions” (Deloria, 2006, p. xx).
Deloria’s statement is one of hope and loss with an awareness that there was, at one time, a stronger connection to spirit and the natural world. Humans once knew their place within the web of life. In his research, Deloria understood the intersection of nature with rituals and ceremonies. Through the stories of shamanic encounters and healings, Deloria brings us closer to these indigenous practices and rituals (Deloria, 2006). Perhaps this wound and chasm between the non-natives and the indigenous people of the landscape is another threshold of reconciliation.
When we allow ourselves to belong to the landscape, we will hear whispers of wisdom beyond our wildest imaginations. The native people who were born and buried where we reside now understood this. Indigenous tribes, who listened to the ancient wisdom of land, trees, water, are witnesses now to its demise. If we are to take our place in the evolution of our planet, acknowledging our ancestral roots and the ancestors of the land where we reside will aid in cultivating relationship to Mother Earth. The divide between modern culture and indigenous wisdom is great, but it is one we can bridge.
All is well, and Nature is ensouled; “[all] living creatures and all plants are a benefit to something” (Deloroia, 2006, p. xxviii).
For cultures still in touch with their shamanic traditions, Deloria says that “[this] belief in the orderliness of things, regardless of the apparent chaos, represents the spiritual side of life—how spirit manifests itself in the physical world” (Deloria, 2006, p. xxix). The idea that every being and manifestation of nature has a purpose invokes respect and humility. Our resistance to claiming our place in the web of life shows up as the progress of modern people who take from Earth what we want without regard for reciprocation. It also shows up when we become consumed with guilt that we fail to step back into relationship with Her.
Remembering our stories. Stepping through the portage of native wisdom, we embark on a landscape rich with possibilities. Who lived on the land where you are now? What is the history of the land tracing back to the indigenous culture? Who are your ancestors and where is the homeland?
The stories of our ancestors with whom we share blood or earth are fertile with ritual, myth, and medicine. With minimal research and the convenience of technology, it is typically not difficult to find out about the humans who first lived on the land where we now reside in our home, apartment, or condominium. With this basic understanding of the indigenous people, we can honor the land where we live with a simple acknowledgement to the Iriquois, Cherokee, Micmac, or Tonkawa.
Holding this knowing close while moving through our daily activities brings a new awareness to the places we call home. Just as powerful, we can increase our awareness with a little research of living relatives, DNA testing, or family trees to uncover our own indigenous origins. Cooking foods, growing herbs, or learning stories from our lineage connects us more deeply to our own inclinations to align with the planet.
Listening to the land. Simply listening to the world outside of our home or office is a portage into a uniquely momentary place in time and nature. Taking time and listening to our landscape and others with the wisdom of experience will guide our relationship with the planet. Nature does not offer instant gratification, an attitude of modern culture that only complicates our addiction of consumption.
In the children’s book, The Other Way to Listen, Byrd Bayor’s words and Peter Parnall’s illustrations provide simple wisdom to us all. Byrd tells the tale of a child who once knew an old man who could hear corn sing, wildflower seeds burst open, and how a lizard and a rock feel about each other. The child begs the man to teach this kind of listening. The man tells the child he cannot teach it; this kind of listening is something that is learned from “the hills and ants and lizards and weeds … They do the teaching around here’ ” (1997, p. np). The wise old man suggests not starting with a mountain or ocean, but “start with one seed pod or one dry weed or one horned toad or one handful of dirt” (1997, p. np). The man says it is important to respect the river or rock you are listening to, because “if you think you are better than a horned toad you’ll never hear its voice” (1997, p. np).
The child obeys all the wisdom he has been given, including going into nature alone every day and never giving up, singing to the land, waiting for the hills to answer back. After many years of practicing, one morning during sunrise, the hills began to sing with him, “It came straight up from those dark shiny lava rocks humming…moved around like wind…seemed to be the oldest sound in the world….the most natural thing in the world” (Byrd, 1997, p. np).
Listening to the wiser among us is important, and sharing that wisdom through experience with others, especially our children, is critical, for they will inherit this Earth. We can only stop exploiting and become advocates for the earth if we listen to what She is asking us to do.
