Working with Hungry Ghost Ancestors

Working with Hungry Ghost Ancestors

Not all ancestors are “wise ones;” some are disturbed, screwed up, angry, not at rest. But we may  need to work for and with all of them. A way to do this is to specifically target the ones that need help and prayers, and to do compassionate Rites of Death for them, along with praying for their souls that they may have peace and rest. It is important to use the elements when breaking the bonds to this life for these ancestors, as we did in Mariposa's group-working, because the elements are what allow souls to manifest in bodies, and are what hold us here. When these ties are ceremonially broken in a death rite, the soul is free to go on to its next assignment.

The work I did with Mariposa  and her friends was just the beginning, in my opinion. The work can get deeper; one may be led to do some karmic untangling work. Sometimes you will feel the connection of this person, or these persons, to yourself, in terms of karmic themes, or issues, talents, problems, or the like. Sometimes you have chosen to take on a karmic task of the same nature this person had. Or sometimes you just find yourself saddled with it, as if that unhappy, unresolved ancestor was trying to live it out through you, or get you to do it. You must get conscious about this, and make a choice. Are you willing to take this on, or not? If not, then do a ritual to move this particular energy out and away, and state this clearly. If so, then take it up consciously and ask for help.  

The “Wise” ancestors can be worked with much more simply. You pray to them, thank them for their lives, their continuing benevolence and protection, and ask for their wisdom and their help, and be willing to listen to them.

It is polite to leave offerings for them, and to pray for them, too. Everyone can always use prayer. 

 

(c) Margie McArthur,1995

Ancestors -- Part One

The Hearth and the Ancestors

Related to the significance of the hearth are the Ancestors. In many of the old cultures it was thought that the ancestors dwelt beneath the hearth. This belief was undoubtedly related to the fact that in ancient times, ancestors were often buried beneath the hearth.

The flames of the hearth that sustained life is a reminder of the very flame of life itself, and thus the hearth became a place where the ancestors could be remembered and venerated.

During the early-to-mid 1990s, the ancestors were very much on my mind. My ancestors, but also THE ancestors. I realize it’s the wrong time of the year to be talking about ancestors—Samhain is the usual time—but there they were, making me look at them again, showing me things I needed to , so what could I do? I couldn’t seem to ignore them even if I tried.

So I did quite a bit of ancestor work in the early-to-mid 1990s and have, in fact, a half-written book on the subject gathering dust on my hard drive. The ancestors were really talking to a lot of us back then. In the late 90s a friend had an important dream which inspired her to create a major ancestral working. It turned out to be a very powerful working for me and all concerned, and the ancestral line I worked with in that ritual was pretty quiet after that. But recently I’ve begun hearing from some of the other parts of my lineage so I’m thinking it’s probably time for some work on those lines.

At any rate, it’s what’s been occupying me the last several days, so I thought I’d post of a bit of what I wrote several years ago on the subject, in case it might be helpful to someone else.

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Ancestors are those who have walked the earth before us. They are uncountable in number, and they stretch, in a chain, back to the very beginnings of humanity—or even life itself—on this planet. In every generation of them the entire general spectrum of humanity—the wise, the foolish, the ordinary, the extraordinary—is made manifest.

We are born into families. From our forebearers we inherit everything from physical characteristics, such as the color of our hair and eyes, to personality traits and talents. We inherit tendencies toward certain physical gestures and facial expressions. We inherit propensity to certain disease or physical imbalance patterns. We inherit blood types. The good, the bad, and the ugly—we inherit it all, or at least a potential for it all.

Quite obviously, it if weren’t for our ancestors we wouldn’t be here at all, and we most certainly wouldn’t be who we are.

But we are more than just the sum of our ancestral parts. We are each a unique combination of the genes passed on from our thousands of grandmothers and grandfathers; this is what makes us  unique individuals. It’s what we get in the luck of the genetic draw that makes each of us different from the next person, and even from our siblings.

Recognizing the importance of the ancestors, most cultures and societies of the past have had some way of recognizing and honoring them even if it was as simple as keeping track of the genealogical lines. Many tribes committed their genealogies to memory. In particular, noble or royal genealogies were often memorized by tribal “rememberers” of some sort.’ Those of us familiar with the Bible will recall the seemingly endless lists of the “begats.”

There is another level to this. Early on, many tribes people considered themselves descended from a primal mythic ancestor or god/dess. Thus, there are tribal ancestors as well as simply personal ones, and people would refer to themselves as the “children of...” or “clan of”  a particular deity.

As time went on and civilizations and religions developed, people began to claim a spiritual ancestry that harkened back to particular spiritual traditions and lines of spiritual power. These, too, became “the ancestors.”  Examples of these are found in the East, where some of the spiritual traditions have roots going back to various holy people or gurus of the past, as well as in the Kohanim of Judaism, whose male ancestral line traces back to the Biblical Aaron, brother of Moses. This is also found in our western world in the Catholic tradition of the priesthood  wherein a priest is ordained “according to the order of Melchisedek,” as well as in Mormonism where both the Aaronic and Melchisedek priesthoods are to be found.

The ties that connect us to our mythic-tribal and spiritual ancestors are not usually bonds of blood, but rather, bonds of specific energetic patterns related to the particular traditions and lines of spiritual power, although the Judaic Kohan tradition has been found to also have a genetic link.

The Family as a Being
Although we tend to see ourselves as individual selves, we are, in truth, members of families. I tend to see the family as a “Being,” an entity with many parts—physical, spiritual, emotional, mental, karmic, psychic—and an awareness of itself, including a type of memory. As a Being, a family shares DNA, and transmits information throughout its structure. Similar to other beings, the Family Being, perhaps, has “organs” and parts (sub-beings) which perform various functions for the Being.  What comes to mind when I think of this is an image of how all life forms are composed of bodily parts and of other life forms—right on down to the bacterial level. Each has its part, its function, and contributes to the overall health, well-being and functionality of the entire being.

There are certain themes that come to prominence in families, and are worked on by various members in differing circumstances and places, so that the Family Being may learn, grow, stay healthy, and balance itself. Toward this purpose there are certain gifts, strengths, and weaknesses both physical and psychological that are passed on and manifested differently by different individuals.

And since we are, each of us, from several different families, the situation gets quite complex. From my own experiences I suspect that certain family lines may come through us as ‘dominant ‘ in the same way that some particular genes are dominant, and it is these we are most concerned with in any given lifetime.

Otherworldly Beings tend to see us not always as individuals, but as part of a family, or bloodline.  Therefore, if there is some spiritual or healing work to be done with a family, anyone suitable in the family, rather than one specific individual, can do the job.

On meeting a distant cousin a few years ago, I had the distinct sense of how my father’s family, which had traveled from Europe to Virginia in the 1600s, had moved itself across the entire continent, somewhat like how trees “walk” their way across the land—their seeds carried far by the wind or dropped in bird droppings, and growing new little trees further on from where the parent tree stands. When I hugged this new-found cousin for the first time, I had a strong sense of being the part of the family that had “walked” across the continent to the far western shore to work out our karma in interaction with this bit of the continent, while she was the part who had stayed in one of the places we’d been before, working our karmic tasks in that place, and with that land and its spirits.

I felt that there was something important about this movement as related to Life (i.e. living beings exhibit movement as one of their characteristics), and that even though we all pride ourselves on our individuality, individual lives and karma —which are quite important—another aspect of our being is tied up with our "Family Ties." I think each of us choose (or end up with) pieces of family stuff to work out and on, and that our individual karma plays a role in what we choose.

(c) Margie McArthur, 1995

Ancestors - Part Two

 Ancestral Karma and Tasks

 

As individuals, we are a combination of our biological genetic ancestry, our personal spiritual ancestry, and our individual soul’s path of learning—shaped by the land on which we live and the times in which we live.

Because of our biological inheritance from our ancestors, we also carry what I’ve come to call “family karma.”  

It may be that not every member of every family is working on family “karma.” And certainly not all that are doing so are conscious of doing so, which is a good thing, actually.  But some of us do feel our own pieces of it—at certain times in our life more than at other times. In my own case, I feel strongly that some of the lines I carry simply had to make it to the west coast of the North American continent. I am still not completely sure why and am working on figuring it out. But I know I am right where I am supposed to be—about as close to the Pacific Ocean as I can be without being in it!  

When I met my Texas cousin I became very aware that certain of us *had* to stay on the sacred soil of Texas. The geo-mantic influences of the land we live on shape us. The spirit beings—nature spirits, plant and tree spirits, faeries, land dragons—of each of area have subtle differences, and affect us in subtly different ways. I think this is one of the ways in which our personal karma intersects with our ancestral karma.
    
Historically speaking, Texas represented a new start for several of my southern families after the Civil War. Moving from the war-torn south to a new land allowed these desperate and torn families to continue. The same may be said about the original journey from Europe to North America.

This is because families renew themselves, just as do individual humans. This renewal is physical and spiritual, and mental and emotional as well. Just as individuals may feel strongly that they must stay put and deepen where they reside, or, feel that they must move on to greener pastures and new possibilities, so too do families. However, in the case of families, there are many individuals, so various scenarios may be played out simultaneously, for the good of the entire family blood-group.

I have no proof of this; it is just something I feel strongly.  I feel the family as a blood-group is, in a sense, evolving, learning, and growing, even though its individual members may not be aware of it. Patterns are played out; things are learned, and information is transmitted—via some deep spiritual-biological mechanism of genetic communication of which I am only dimly aware from my own experiences with it.

About a year after meeting that distant cousin I found myself with an unexpected opportunity to attend a workshop in Georgia. At first my focus was preparing for the workshop itself. But then it slowly began to dawn on me that some of the ancestors (ones I shared with this woman) were from Georgia, and nearby Tennessee and North Carolina as well. These ancestors were both European and Native American. An eerie feeling crept over me as I realized I was being called back to the ancestral lands. I knew there was something there for me, and I knew I had to take a gift. Shortly before I left I happened upon a produce stand which sold Indian corn of various colors. I found they had jars of dried corn as well. I purchased a pound of so of this corn of many colors, and made a necklace of it to take along to gift to the land.

After the workshop I rented a car and took a whirlwind 3 day tour of my ancestral lands. At one point, while driving across the Great Smokey mountains, I felt compelled to pull off to the side of the road and get out. I followed this instinct, and soon was wandering deeper into the woods by the road. I came upon a dip in the ground that contained a small pool; the pool turned out to be a tiny creek that flowed deeper into the woods. I stood by this pool and knew this was the spot. As I held the corn necklace and prepared to offer it to the land and the water, something rose up in me and I began to weep. Feelings and memories were flowing through me. But it was a curious feeling, because although they were flowing through them and I was reacting to them, I didn’t feel as  personally connected to them as I had with past life memories I’d previously experienced.  And yet there was a connection; this I could tell. In less time than it takes to read this I realized I was experiencing DNA memories. My blood and bones were crying out in both joy and sorrow with all the memories they carried about this land. That part of me was very glad to be there, and even happier when I finally dropped the necklace into the pool of water, with love and prayers. Gradually my tears subsided, and something within me felt complete, and ready to move on.

Later, as continued my drive through the mountains, this experience led me to think of the land as “Mother,” and how it feels to move away from Mother and individuate. There is much wrapped up in this concept of Mother and Motherland. Our relationship with the land beings, and indeed, the Original Instructions given us long ago as tribal people about how to live life and relate to the land are all tied up in this.


River of Blood, River of Tears
In ancestor work we often refer to the River of Blood and the River of Tears. The River of Blood is all the blood of all the life upon the earth; including, quite obviously, the blood we inherit from our ancestors—our DNA, and all that it carries.

The River of Tears is the river of all the tears shed in all the lives ever lived. These can be tears of joy, of relief, of fear, pain, or sorrow. The River of Tears is the emotional energy carried in DNA. We contribute to it when we cry and grieve for something, as well as when we cry tears of joy. We partake of it when we allow ourselves to be cleansed by the tears, since this River can be clearing and cleansing as well as a place of sadness.

The River of Blood and the River of Tears are both salty, as is the sea.

Salt is a crystal and its geometric structure is the very stable, four-sided cube shape. Because it is four-sided, it is magically representative of the element of Earth whose number is four; this “fourness” includes the four elements and directions. Because crystal holds and stores energy, one may speculate that the microscopic salt crystals in blood may act as a form of compact memory storage.

Our salty blood and salty tears show our connection to the earthy realm of the Underworld Goddess. Hers is the realm of life, death, and memory, and the Rivers of Blood and Tears flow through it.

Working with these Rivers can bring us the wisdom of our ancestors, but it is up to up to receive what is given and work with it, and “make it wisdom” for ourselves and our children.  This may involve the cleansing and healing of old wounds, and the breaking down of old patterns and creation of healthy new ones so that the outgrown damaging ones are no longer passed down through the family. This work is not easy, and not everyone is called to it.

(c) Margie McArthur, 1997

Ancestors - Part Three

Release Work for the Ancestors

As I mentioned in Part One, back in the early-to-mid 1990s my focus was very much on the ancestors. I had begun to have dreams and experiences concerning my own ancestors, but also “the ancestors,” in general. I was overwhelmed with the feeling of many sad, desolate, and somewhat hungry ghosts wandering around. I had a sense that many of the ancestors—my own included—were not properly at rest, or able to go on to their next step, because they had not had proper death rites done for them. They wanted recognition; they wanted appreciation; they wanted to be mourned; and they wanted death rites done for them. I journaled these dreams and realizations, and worked with them in my magical group and on my own during the season of  Samhain.  

A couple years later, my good friend Mariposa had a powerful dream wherein she was part of a ritual being done for the ancestors. As she described the dream to her husband, he knew immediately that this was more than a dream, it was something they were being told to do.

Mariposa set November 11th —Old Samhain—as the date for this ritual and invited me to participate along with several of her other friends. Although she had some basic ideas for the ritual, she felt that the participants should co-create it, so we each contributed our ideas and thoughts during the planning process.

The pieces that I brought to this particular ceremony were ones that came to me quite strongly as I thought about the ritual and remembered my recent dreams and experiences. I had a strong hit that the ancestors must be thanked for their lives, as well as acknowledgement given for all they had accomplished in their lives. I felt they needed to be appreciated as individuals, not just as ancestors. I had an equally strong hit that we must grieve for them—for all the sorrows, tragedies, and  disappointments of their lives, and all their unfulfilled hopes and dreams. And this was to be done in a ceremonial way.
                                                
I also had a very strong sense that there were some ancestors who were still earthbound, to one extent or another, and that the way to solve this was—after the thanking and grieving parts of the ritual had been done—to ceremonially release them from the power of the Four Elements. The Elements, after all, are what constitutes our physicality. When someone passes away they pass out of the realm of the Elements and into the realm of Spirit. But if they were not at peace when they passed—due to, perhaps, unfinished business, strong emotions, or a host of other things—there’s a chance that these things might keep them tied to the earth, the physical realm, and the land of the living. This is not good. So when someone suggested we dance at the end of the ritual, I knew we could use this dance to release the elemental connections.

All of these pieces—the thanking, the grieving, the release of the elemental connection—were included in the final version of the ritual.

We began, some months before the ritual, by journeying inward to find ancestors and/or ancestral lines that wanted to be worked with in this way. We spent time trying to learn as much as we could about them—their lives, their cultures, their times—and we resurrected old family stories about these ancestors, or the lines, so that we could share within the context of the ritual.

On the appointed date, November 11th, we all gathered at Mariposa’s home. We began the ritual with a Feast for the Dead—a specially prepared meal eaten in silence at a table that had places set for the ancestors. After this we robed up and began the ritual itself. After calling in the Elemental and Directional powers, we invoked the goddesses of these particular ancestors, as well as power animals related to the culture or the particular ancestors. Then, one by one, we told their stories which, to my surprise, proved unexpectedly emotionally wrenching. We thanked the ancestors, sent them our love and appreciation, and we keened for them. That too was very powerful; sound is a very potent way to move emotional energies. And we sang our Journey Songs for them, to guide them on their way to the Otherworld.

As the ritual drew to a close we began a circle dance, stopping in each direction to release any elemental bonds that might remain for them. This was an extraordinary experience for me. When we began the Feast for the Dead I felt like the ancestors were able to taste the food I was consuming, through me. I was very aware of them. And when we danced at the end I could literally feel the elemental bonds that held them—I could feel them within my body, as if I carried these bonds for them—and found myself consciously moving in a manner that shook those bonds loose, broke them, and let them slide off.

At the very end we did a bigger elemental release, one that dissolved the elements into one another and back into their primal source: the salt, representing the earth element, was poured into the water. The water was poured into a larger bowl of water which was eventually poured onto the earth outside. The sage representing the air element was burned, released into the air to disperse into the atmosphere; the fire element was released by extinguishing the candles.

When the ritual was done we went outdoors and jumped into Mariposa’s hot tub. It was a very cool, misty night. Above us, the waning moon peeked through the clouds. As I relaxed into the hot water I heard a strange, distant honking sound. I opened my eyes and looked upward, and saw, far above me, wild geese winging their way southward.

I was immediately reminded that it was Old Samhain, the time of the Wild Hunt, when the Lord (or Lady) of the Dead rides the night sky sweeping up the souls of the dead—who often take the form of wild geese or swans—gathering them up to take them to the other world.  

I  pointed upwards to the geese, noting this to the others. The ancestors were on their way home. It was a perfect ending to a perfect—and very powerfully magical night. 

 

 

(c) Margie McArthur, 1995