Everything Makes Sense Now

(and when it doesn't)

On the messiness of where we come from and being wrong on the internet.

I have been thinking a lot about how I more to share about lessons I learned in Southern Italy.

What keeps me from writing is that I'm afraid of being wrong, or ignorant. I want to give glimpses from my travels, while not wanting to be wrong on the internet.

It's one thing to be wrong in a conversation with another person one on one. It's inevitable, we all do it. Yet we live in the age of aquarius ~ the information age, and we are often inadvertently standing at a microphone.

I worry about being canceled. I trust in the power of adrienne maree brown's essay We Will Not Cancel Us and how "the internet is forever" and the last thing I want to do is spread mis-information. I think if I start writing about my trip, and how it's shifted my connection to who I am, I might stumble into a long research project or reference an epic of history in an irreverent brushed-off, fleeting way. Or worse, hurt or offend someone!

There are so many reasons to not write, and yet the stories and the people and the places keep coming back to me, asking to be shared.

Ancestor Season

As the September full moon ushers in Mid-Autumn, I'm noting even more the urge to share, in particular about the importance of ancestor work. As the days shorten, a majority of ancient cultures mark this time as a period of going-in, witnessing our grief and honoring the beloved dead.

In this season of honoring transitions and life it's self, I'm called to share more of my thoughts here soon, with the caveat that I might be wrong.

I might share in a way that is misunderstood, wrong, or incomplete. I might change my mind, and I'm offering all of this in the spirit of being in community with you. Of being willing to try to articulate these thoughts and feelings about ancestor work, plants, community, healing and land.

Most importantly, I want to exemplify the work of doing ancestor work.

I want to exemplify how messy and how important it can be.

Ancestor Work

In recent years, largely due to the development of DNA technology, it's easier to learn about our biological ancestors with a fee and a quick turn-around (a style that provides information that can be helpful, yet I'm less interested in the precise people I come from and more of the cultures, land and traditions, of course these two things are intrinsically connected).

What I've learned from my work with Erin Langly, Marybeth Bonfiglio and Kara Wood, is that there is another way to learn the ways of our ancestors.

When we do the work slowly, there is authenticity in our lived connections. Almost as if slowing down is part of the medicine. This is a big way I see herbs working too.

I have done this work, called ancestor work, ancestral remembrance or the work of an ancestralist, for about ten years now, and I feel as though I've just dipped my toe.

This work is healing work. It's about understanding who are and where we come from. Within our histories, there are often lies or family secrets. Information has been obscured for various reasons and while we can do traditional research from books, online or by sitting at the foot of our elders, there are other ways of knowing.

Potential ancestor portals include:

the flavor and cultivation of herbs
preparing and eating traditional foods
ceremony and ritual
listening to our intuition
reflecting on our dreams
fleeting connections that happen with strangers
learning geography
understanding ecology of place
the brass tacks of history
gathering official documents at municipalities
observing art
learning traditional languages

~ if you listen.

When we take the time to do all this, plus take notes and do internet deep dives, over many moons, it can feel as though lost puzzle peaces appear, cracks disappear or come into focus.

An excerpt from my travel journal after visiting an ancient tuna factory and swimming near Noto, Sicily.

Swimming In It

After swimming in the cerulean waters of the Mediterranean for the first time, I came out and said the only words I could muster in a moment of sensory overwhelm:

"Everything makes sense now."

The essays I aim to write about my connection and experience in Southern Italy, while containing potential errors, is an attempt to explain what I meant with that statement - what I felt in a place of profound connection to the sacredness of life, the four elements and spirit.

Some of these highlights are:

wandering around Naples to find the street with my family's name
visiting a cemetery where everyone is my cousin
worshiping a plant that is known as common pest in California

When I weave it all together, I know there is something meaningful there. I feel that visiting land that my ancestors lived on for so long has changed the fabric of who I am. I hold a newfound un-fuckableness because I have a greater understanding of who I am and where I come from.

Ancestralism, Herbalism and Whiteness

There is a particular importance of doing this work for people who walk in the world with white privilege.

For too long there has been a dominant story of whiteness. When my family came to Turtle Island we traded in our cultures in a dehumanizing way - for power. It's embarrassing. We lost our rituals, language, food and herbs. We lost connection to land and spirit. And we hurt people, to say the least. We continue to hurt and harm people when we cling to whiteness.

There is a great power in story, and the process of learning (or unlearning) slowly, over time and through our senses is part of the healing. As I wade through my memories of my trip, and the infinite research that can be done on the history of Southern Italy ~ I'm up for sharing with you, dear reader, how messy and strange it can all be.

My hope is that it can lead to healing my body and spirt, and the legacy of my family, community (known and unknown) and inspire you to begin this work for yourself. Even if we do not bear children, there is power in becoming a well ancestor - the person who did the work to heal.

What gives me endurance is the plants. When I'm combing through the cobwebs of who my grandparents and great-great grandparents were, I'm often overcome with the trauma they experienced, which led them to not always make the best choices. To put it gently. To make choices I'm not proud of.

This is when I turn to the herbs. They are our ancestors too. They are benevolent and wise. If ever this work gets overwhelming, I take a break and make a cup of tea, or go sit with the plants in the garden, knowing my journals of drawings and notes will be ready waiting for me when I return.

Lastly, it is also my intention and hope that if i write this all down in a clear and findable way, that perhaps my descendants of blood or lineage will find it as we find the retro clothes or ancient greek art or cave drawings (hi guys :)

May my ancestor work inspire yours.

Grazie per aver letto. Thank you for reading, and for letting me try out my pen.

To stay connected and follow along my journey of ancestral-plant work, I invite you to join my newsletter Whale Mail 🐋 with reminders for seasonal wellbeing, event announcements and more.

Special thanks to Jaime Lee Strollo for helping me organize these thoughts.

Other essays in this series include:

My Teacher: Queen Anne's Lace (June 2024)

Where Bones Belong to the Earth (May 2024)