Yesterday I was invited to give a talk at a wonderful woman’s retreat in upstate NY. It was on ancestral healing.
I’m still surprised I haven’t written a book on that yet. I live and breathe the work. I was overjoyed at the many questions that were asked. One of them being, “How do you let go?”
We hear so much about “letting go” when it comes to the spiritual path, yet over the years, I have witnessed it become such a daunting power struggle for many of us, myself included. A process that should unfold so naturally and gently can ignite emotions such as anger, shame, regret, remorse—before it has even started.
I shared some of my sentiments, and then asked, “Why do we compel ourselves to let go? Why can’t we just allow ourselves to create a different relationship with letting go?” A softer perspective of those words in and of itself can create the inner space to allow things to unwind in a less chaotic way.
There always seems to be a push, a rush, to mend, to heal, to force the inner work, so that the pain we feel will somehow magically disappear—and in our minds, letting go would hasten the end of suffering.
Changing our relationship with letting go would create the space within the spirit world between us and those ancestors whose pain still influences us. I spoke about that too, yesterday. We overthink in our inner work. The body, mind and spirit offer shelter to many ancestors, many lifetimes, many patterns that have woven humanity and destinies into a magnificent vessel.
When I walked into the lecture room an altar had been created, as the host of the retreat had asked each participant to bring something personal to add to the altar. I took in the energies of those personal items and felt how far back the pain had gone. We gathered in a circle towards the end of my talk. I went around and did a laying-on of hands on each person. (I miss doing hands-on work—it has been many years.) To touch those sacred bodies, their stories, the stories of their ancestors, how deep the influence was from those from beyond the veil that were present!
One of the attendees remarked that there were many butterflies that kept flying around me when I spoke. I only saw one. She said they looked like little angels.
Yes, there were many angels helping us too, yesterday. Towards the end of my talk, I asked everyone to go and pick up their personal items from the altar to see how much lighter their keepsakes felt. It was glorious. I, myself, felt so much lighter!
Tending to your ancestors is not as challenging as you think. It begins with space. You—holding space for yourself and for all of those who live and breathe with your own spirit. As I whispered into one of the participant’s ears yesterday, “You are not as alone as you think you are.”
On Sunday, 8/20, join us for a podcast on Medical Intuition and Ancestral Healing with Laura Aversano.
