Gratitude for Ancestors

Singing our creation songs

We are here

We are here for all of us

We are here for all of us

That’s why we are here

Why we are here

-Alicia Keys, We Are Here

I feel the presence of my ancestors. They are like a texture that I can touch, a flavor I can taste. They are with me, and they are guiding me in this time.

A few weeks ago, at the YES! Asian Diaspora Jam, we invoked and invited them into our circle, with the deep recognition that we would not be here without them.

I called into my being Jiya, Bausa, Bhasa, and Bauji (what I call my paternal and maternal grandparents, whose names are Nanibai and Vijay Raj Chandaliya and Chandan Kamar and Sumer Raj Daga, respectively). I feel the qualities I carry from each of them living and breathing in me: Jiya’s playfulness, her connection to the earth, her joy in dancing and in creating sweet little things for others; Bausa’s simplicity, his rebelliousness and stubbornness; Bhasa’s strong dignity and her sense of household; Bauji’s boisterous extroversion and his big welcoming hospitality. And then there are all my unseen and unknown ancestors, both through blood and through spirit. I feel them too, and I have so much gratitude for their lives and what they made possible for me, and for so many.

Throughout the time together at the Jam, I continually felt the presence of mine and all of our ancestors, including those of the redwood trees that surrounded us. I sensed their delight and surprise. There was a moment where several of us were gathered around a table, reflecting on a passage from the Tao Te Ching, and I began imagining what it would be like for our ancestors — from India, Pakistan, Thailand, Taiwan, China, the Philippines — to see us collectively making meaning from this passage? Truly wondrous. Maybe something like that happened hundreds of years ago, or maybe it never has before.

All this support and connection with ancestors reminded me both of the sacred values I have inherited and also the unique position of my life in this world. To me, to be a part of a diaspora is to be a bridge-builder. Honestly, I don’t know how not to be bridging cultures and practices and communities, nearly constantly.

There’s both a gift and a struggle in this diasporic reality. When my heart is at the center, I almost only feel the magic. Like beautiful vines twisting inside my body braiding a hammock to hold all possibilities. But when my head gets involved, I feel so much of the challenge. It looks like existential questions of Who am I? Where do I belong? What am I here for? In those moments, I have felt lost and alone. Neither here nor there, I have been like abandoned driftwood, floating along and isolated from every cultural mainstream.

I felt that pain and grief a lot in my teens and 20s. I was told to ‘go back to my own country’ by midwestern white US America; and when I was in India, I was asked, ‘where are you from?’ I raged, and I cried. I remember thinking, I belong nowhere.

I worked through a lot of that struggle in my late 20s and early 30s, and came to realize that for myself, yes, I belong nowhere, and I belong everywhere. My unique diasporic life gave me insights and doorways into many worlds, and if I entered them with curiosity, humility, and love, I was welcomed. Which helped me recognize that belonging is maybe 75% internal and 25% external (at least, those are the percentages that are coming to me today).

After the Jam, I found myself asking, What would it look like to live and lead from a profound sense of ancestral support and healing? How might that change so many of the dynamics in families, communities, organizations, and systems? Could it release isolation, pain and confusion, and open the way to interconnection, creativity and synergistic possibilities? What might happen with more visible recognition of our ancestors, welcoming them in to be with us and to dance together? How might it serve me, and serve us, to see life as a gift from our ancestors and as a gift to them?

I remember doing this activity in a YES! Healing Our Movement Ecosystem (HOME) Jam online a few years ago. It was adapted from my dear elder Joanna Macy. Each of us had personally done some visioning around our paths forward, and then we got into groups of three to share. One of us would be the sharer; one of us would listen as an ancestor; one of us would listen as a future descendant. After the sharing happened, the ‘ancestor’ and the ‘descendant’ would offer reflections from their vantage points. Then, we would all rotate roles until everyone had a chance to be in each role. Until I did it, I had no idea how much this practice could (and would) channel profound healing.

I was in a group with Mary* and Julia*. Mary shared what she was going through and working on in herself and relating it to the trauma of her family and her Irish ancestors. I was listening as her ancestor, and the message came through: I asked her for forgiveness. I accepted the truth that I had hurt her with my thoughts, words, actions — and what I can do is acknowledge it, ask to be forgiven, and do my best to learn and integrate. Sometimes, all that happens in a lifetime; sometimes, it happens in the spiritual realm; sometimes, both. Regardless, when I sat with Mary and listened to her, I felt the ancestral spirit aiming for release and integration. I also felt the fight — the part that stays alive and keeps choosing even the littlest bit of life, regardless of the trauma. And isn't that something to celebrate and have gratitude for? Yes, my ancestors' trauma brought me here, and so did their power. So, I can release what I can in my lifetime and also build upon their foundation of strength. As Mary, Julia and I shared in this reflection together, I sensed something unlock in each of us. The ancestors connection was an opening, a softening, a deepening, and a collaborating. I felt clarity, peace, and possibility, all rolled into one.

Actually, connecting to ancestors in that online HOME Jam, and more recently in this Asian Diaspora Jam, has opened up portals in me. I sense the past, present, and future coming together in sweet relief. While I can go through these doorways alone, it feels even better to do it with and in community, especially if others choose to open and enter them as well. The portals are pathways. Listening deep inside of me, through the layers of time, and listening deep outside of me, through the layers of space, I then bring those sounds together. It creates a vibrational harmony, a chiropractic click. This attunement can guide my leadership and align me on my path. Or, as my friend Rene puts it, listening inside out and outside in, is how I hear my creation song. It’s the sound of my heart’s wisdom; it’s the reason I am here, now. When we do it together, there’s the opportunity to hear the symphony in our collective creation songs.

Sometimes, my grandparents visit me in my dreams. Especially, Bausa and Jiya, who I lived with for the last nine years of their lives. Whenever they come around, I feel happy. They remind me of where I come from and of the moments we shared, and in doing so, they help me re-member who I am; they help me belong. I realize that my ancestors have my back, and yours have yours, and mine have your back, and yours have my back, too.

When I live and lead from this place, I find myself more able to be present, to be grounded and at ease, to be open-hearted. I can more easily accept the struggle and the beauty that lives within each person, and to trust that each of us are just listening for our own creation song. And then I have the opportunity to nurture and support those songs with my being, with my leadership, with my love. That’s the gift from my ancestors. And, that’s the gift to them.

How are you connecting with your ancestors? How are they helping you attune to your creation song? I would love to hear in the comments, if you’re willing to share.