Druidry and the Ancestors by Nimue Brown reminds of us our roots. Wherever we live, this ground we walk upon has been walked on by humans and animals for centuries, for millenia. We are just one link in the chain. And we have a long chain of genetic ancestors -- 4 grandparents, 8 great grandparents, 16 great great grandparents, and so on back for millenia, except that not all are unique -- when distant cousins marry, they have some common ancestors.
And my life is itself a chain in time. From the present, my life stretches back to the past. Living around here the past 20 years, discovering scenic areas around here, learning to rollerblade, being unemployed. Before that, living in the suburb of a big city while going to grad school. Walking a half hour to school. Walking to grocery shopping, hauling groceries in a backpack, taking the train to my internships, living in a basement apartment, choosing the basement because I can dance around, stomping on the floor all I want, without disturbing anyone below. Before that, living in the suburbs of a different big city, working a boring job in the big city, taking aerobics class, walking to visit my boyfriend, discovering the parks. Before that, college, a community, a circle of friends, a place where I belonged. Before that, growing up, my hometown, a misfit at school, some friends at school, vacations in more rural, rugged places, hippie parents who listened to Donovan, a rock band at my father's commune, playing on a homemade see-saw, getting a "swinging ladder" for the swing set, dressing up like a nurse.
And from the present, the future stretches wide before me. An unwritten story. An unforged trail. It could lead anywhere. We never know what's around the bend. We don't know what we will find, but when we find it, we choose what course to take.
Showing posts with label ancestors. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ancestors. Show all posts
Monday, August 10, 2015
Monday, May 12, 2014
A house concert and the cycles of life
The birth of my nephew inspired me to do a radio show with a theme of family. I played songs about a number of things related to this theme, but one song that was particularly in honor of my nephew's birth was "Child of Mine" by Bill Staines.
Four and a half years later, I was in a room in which Bill Staines was singing that song while my nephew frolicked about, ignoring the music. He was making a loop, jumping off the bed onto a futon on the floor, through a folding chair, and back to the bed again.
It was a house concert, attended by maybe two dozen people, mostly friends and family to each other. As I sat there seeing the children frolicking, it struck me that people have been gathering together for music in the evening for millenia. Some things change. It was not always the case that people were invited to such gatherings by way of Facebook. It was not always the case that my nephew was one of the frolicking children. His father was born when I was 15, so he was the one who was the frolicking child when I was in my teens and 20's. And before that, when I was about 4 or 5, I was the one dancing about while the grownups sat.
This time of year, the new green leaves appear on the trees. Each autumn, the leaves fall and die, but each spring, new life awakens. These are not the same leaves that were on the trees last year, but the follow the same patterns. And so too do humans follow the same patterns -- birth and death, joy and sorrow, childhood and old age. The cycles stay the same year after year, but the faces change -- each generation, different individuals go through these cycles.
The morning after a concert, I went to a cafe for coffee and a scone. I went to that cafe once before, two years ago. It was my brother who found it. I don't live near it, but I had traveled to the area for the concert, so I took the opportunity to pay the cafe a visit. I sat in the same seat that I sat in two years ago. Two years ago, my brother sat across from me. He never will again. He has left this earth. I stared out the window so the people in the cafe would not see my tears.
The cycles of life are eternal, but each individual who passes through these cycles is unique and irreplaceable.
I want to record people's stories so that we can remember those who have gone before.
Four and a half years later, I was in a room in which Bill Staines was singing that song while my nephew frolicked about, ignoring the music. He was making a loop, jumping off the bed onto a futon on the floor, through a folding chair, and back to the bed again.
It was a house concert, attended by maybe two dozen people, mostly friends and family to each other. As I sat there seeing the children frolicking, it struck me that people have been gathering together for music in the evening for millenia. Some things change. It was not always the case that people were invited to such gatherings by way of Facebook. It was not always the case that my nephew was one of the frolicking children. His father was born when I was 15, so he was the one who was the frolicking child when I was in my teens and 20's. And before that, when I was about 4 or 5, I was the one dancing about while the grownups sat.
This time of year, the new green leaves appear on the trees. Each autumn, the leaves fall and die, but each spring, new life awakens. These are not the same leaves that were on the trees last year, but the follow the same patterns. And so too do humans follow the same patterns -- birth and death, joy and sorrow, childhood and old age. The cycles stay the same year after year, but the faces change -- each generation, different individuals go through these cycles.
The morning after a concert, I went to a cafe for coffee and a scone. I went to that cafe once before, two years ago. It was my brother who found it. I don't live near it, but I had traveled to the area for the concert, so I took the opportunity to pay the cafe a visit. I sat in the same seat that I sat in two years ago. Two years ago, my brother sat across from me. He never will again. He has left this earth. I stared out the window so the people in the cafe would not see my tears.
The cycles of life are eternal, but each individual who passes through these cycles is unique and irreplaceable.
I want to record people's stories so that we can remember those who have gone before.
Monday, December 23, 2013
The tribe
I've been reading a bit of The Apple Branch by Alexei Kontratiev. I like the fact that he says that the Celts have been Christian for centuries, so it's kind of silly to be into Celtic stuff but be anti-Christian. But then I don't like where he goes after that. He defines Tribe as people who speak a common language. Then he goes on to say therefore, if you are interested in Celtic stuff, you should learn a Celtic language. I would think that the same logic he used with regard to Christianity would apply here --for many Celts, English is their native language now.
I don't like it when people get fixed in their mind that one particular moment in history is the correct one, that the people who lived in that place and time are the true natives of that land, and anyone who came after was an intruder. The reality is that human history is a history of migration and cultural change.
Some of my ancestors came to North America from England. Some take the attitude you English should not have come, you should go back where you came from. But people from England, they had ancestors too, they had Angles, Saxons, Jutes, Celts, Romans, Normans. Yes, at one time in history some of my ancestors lived in England, but they lived in other places before that, and they lived in New England after that. Why pick on England as the place where my people are truly from? That kind of thinking is a narrow view, that does not grasp the way cultures shift through history.
I don't like it when people get fixed in their mind that one particular moment in history is the correct one, that the people who lived in that place and time are the true natives of that land, and anyone who came after was an intruder. The reality is that human history is a history of migration and cultural change.
Some of my ancestors came to North America from England. Some take the attitude you English should not have come, you should go back where you came from. But people from England, they had ancestors too, they had Angles, Saxons, Jutes, Celts, Romans, Normans. Yes, at one time in history some of my ancestors lived in England, but they lived in other places before that, and they lived in New England after that. Why pick on England as the place where my people are truly from? That kind of thinking is a narrow view, that does not grasp the way cultures shift through history.
Sunday, November 3, 2013
Ancestors
I remember 3 of my great-grandparents. I don't remember any of my great-great grandparents, though I did meet one when I was an infant. I had 16 great-great grandparents. Who were they? Looking into it, I find:
- Charles of Blandford
- Ellen of Blandford
- Merrill of Tolland
- Lurancy of Stafford
- John of Ireland
- Bridget of Ireland
- Thomas of East Windsor
- Catherine of Rockville
- James, possibly of Indiana County PA
- Nancy of Harford
- Joseph of Pittsburgh
- Elizabeth of Indiana County, PA
- Melvin of Winthrop
- Lettie of Maine, maybe Fairfield
- Fannie of Limerick
- George of Hollis
There they are. Just four generations ago. It is only thanks to all of them that I exist, and yet I know so little of them. I've heard stories about a few of them, and I have photos of a few of them, but so much has been forgotten. They had lives, full of joys and sorrows. They pursued their dreams. And, a few generations later, most of their stories are lost. I've collected and preserved the stories of them that I could find. I hope to continue to collect and pass on stories of my ancestors, that they not be forgotten.
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