Why the ancestors love it here (or the post where I hope to normalize talking to the dead)
(And also where I show you a glimpse into my overthinking tendencies)
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I’m just going to put it out there: I spend a lot of time with dead people, especially the ancestors. (Actually, we all do whether we realize it or not.) One thing I’ve learned is that the ancestors who are now well in spirit (aka the untroubled dead) LOVE it here. By here I mean this physical world where you and I live right now.
I have been utterly dumbfounded by this. My ancestors have shown me moments from when they were living people. Because I work with them in a healing capacity, these are often the moments that caused the wounds. These people’s lives were marked by tremendous suffering. It’s the kind of suffering that’s unfathomable to me. I could never endure it. This is what they lived through and, yet, somehow, they love it here. They really do. They focus their attention here with nothing but hearts-in-their-eyes adoration.
I spend a lot of time wondering WHY.
I started to think they must know something I don’t know. I got myself into quite a state one day when I had the horrible thought: what if it’s that the afterlife is so awful that even their worst suffering here is better in comparison?
But then I quickly realized that can’t be it. (Whew!) The wise and well dead that I’ve encountered seem to be quite happy. If they were existing in an afterlife of awfulness surely they wouldn’t come across as happy. Right?
Then I started thinking about a phenomenon I’ve noticed where people have a tendency to only remember the good stuff, especially after it’s gone. I’ve never been to a funeral where someone gets up and says, “Joe was really an asshole. He was selfish and cold-hearted. But I’ll probably miss him anyway.” It could be that I simply haven’t been to very many funerals, but the eulogies I’ve heard have been glowing reviews of lives lived in beauty and love.
Actually, I think it’s a wonderful trait that we have to mostly remember what was good about something after it’s gone. I suppose it’s because it’s natural for us to focus on what we miss about it.
Maybe this explains why the dead love it here. They remember and focus on what they miss about it. They remember the sweet stuff. The beauty. They remember music and dancing and joy. The richness of the Earth itself.
Yeah, maybe, but that doesn’t really tell me why they focus on this place so much in the first place. Sure, if they’re forced to remember their lives here, they might as well remember the sweet parts. But couldn’t they be focused on doing really cool shit in some afterlife wonderland instead?
This week’s Archetype/Tarot post about the Victim and Ace of Cups had me thinking about the three levels of experience: the literal level, the inner level and the symbolic level. (You can read the full post here.)
The idea is that we can see an experience as either happening in a very personal, literal way (one that is often disempowering); or we can go within and ask ourselves how we might respond differently to the situation. Then, after we feel more empowered we can view the experience with what is called symbolic sight. We can see the patterns and connections of an experience in order to create something from it for the benefit of all.
It occurred to me that maybe our wise and well ancestors have this gift of symbolic sight. Maybe, after having worked through things and done some healing in their deaths, they are now able to see the deeper meaning beneath the suffering of their own lives. Maybe they see how it was all necessary in some big, beautiful web of experience and meaning.
Personally, though, I’m not sure I want symbolic sight in all situations. I think suffering SUCKS. I don’t want it. I sure as hell don’t want to have to work very hard to plumb its depths for meaning. So maybe it was my own bad attitude about it all, but I still didn’t feel satisfied with any of that as an explanation for why the ancestors love it here.
Then, out of the blue one day, it occurred to me:
HEY, I COULD JUST ASK THEM.
I never cease to amaze myself with my ability to overlook the easy solution.
Finally, I stopped trying to figure it out myself. I sat down at my altar, got centered and said, “Okay, guys, why DO you love it here?”
They answered loud and clear.
“Because you’re here.”
Oh.
I felt myself enveloped in that profound love that I know (and yet continually forget) is all around me.
It’s all around you too. Every one of us. We are each surrounded by hosts of wise and well ancestors who focus with adoration on this time and place because we are here.
This belonging and love is your birthright. You are the beloved. Lean back into that support, be held by it. It is yours.
How is the love of the ancestors showing up (or not showing up) in your life? I’d love to hear about it and discuss! Leave a comment below, or you can also reply to this email to reach me directly.
I don’t have conscious experiences with the dead or ancestors. I recognise the love you describe. Also for me often paved over by thought, daily botherings and distractions. Underneath is a deep layer of joy. I am embedded in it. And I do experience (when able to allow) the incoming stream of signs, nudges, warnings, the being held. Very unlike the attitude of most ‘living’ humans that I encounter. Its there, hidden, and almost never part of their daily activities. Animals, trees, light, movements, energies communicate. I feel its the same as you describe....
Would love to explore the enjoyment struggle you mentioned yesterday in some way....
when i was younger & wilder, hitchhiking around the usa, i always chose the local cemeteries to sleep in. not a recommendation, because i had some dangerous encounters w/predatory beings. but the dead neighborhoods always were the least threatening & peaceful places to get rest. wild creatures also choose graveyards. the souls of ancestors need attention like los muertos feasts in other cultures. just watch out for those automatic sprinklers at 6am =^.^= <3