Showing posts with label egun. Show all posts
Showing posts with label egun. Show all posts

Monday, October 31, 2016

Samhain Blog Hop: Guidance From Our Ancestors


Welcome to the Samhain Blog Hop! Louise Underhill, from Priestess Tarot, is our trusty wrangler this time around, and she has asked us to open ourselves to the guidance and advice of our ancestors in honor of the present time of year. So here goes!

Last Samhain Blog Hop I chose to focus my post on my Grandpa Malgeri. This time around I decided not to choose, but to let any grandparent(s) come forward that wished to. I pulled three cards to help describe the person, and another three cards to form their message to me. Interestingly, I found my Grandpa Malgeri here again!
Pagan Otherworlds Tarot
The King of Swords is the anchor card, and my mother's dad was a Libra; I think he was a good father in his own way, but he made choices that ultimately led to many years of considerable geographic separation from his kids. The Page seems to trying to show his pentacle to the King of Swords whose attention is diverted toward the Lovers - he's even gesturing toward them. My grandmother left Italy and returned to the U.S. with her kids after she learned that my grandfather had been having an affair.* So here I see my grandfather nestled between two rather significant areas of family life: his love relationships, and his children. I will underscore the fact that I don't judge my grandfather and the choices that he made - life and love are complex and messy at times. Given that he died when I was a baby, these are some of the sparse details that I know about him, which means that they are particularly helpful themes to touch on for purposes of helping me figure out which grandparent was "speaking."

I love that he is letting me know that he is still here and present in my life.

The message along the bottom - the 6 of Swords, Fool, and Ace of Wands - speaks of movement, new adventures, and opportunity. This is indeed what my astrology reports have been hinting at lately, too! And I see evidence of it in my life - the sense of wheels turning, of new paradigms waiting to be born, of branching out (no pun intended!) and exploring new territory, especially as it relates to my professional life.

Thus it is a comforting confirmation of the small wonderings that clamor for the attention of my waking mind. I'm ready for what may come.
This is a peek at my ancestral altar which has been seeing quite a bit of action lately.

May your Samhain, Halloween, may your Winter Nights, be blessed.

To continue around the circle of blog hoppers, use the links at the top or bottom of this post!


*Interestingly, in a reading I did recently (for Shadow Work October on Instagram) about the "wisdom of the female lineage," I saw my grandmother's story there, too!



Tuesday, December 29, 2015

Weaving Spirituality: Santería and the Northern Tradition

Ellen, from Greylady's Hearth, asked me some time ago to write about the ways in which I incorporate both Santería and the Northern Tradition into my spiritual/religious practice. It is at once a rather simple and complex topic; I don't necessarily combine them, but I do honor Norse/Germanic history and mythology as a part of ancestor veneration. And as I've pondered it over the past couple of weeks some salient areas of relationship between the two have risen up into my thoughts:
1) Both Santería and the Northern Tradition feature a variety of gods and goddesses/Orichas whom we learn about through our personal relationships with them, as well as through sacred stories or myths. In these stories they interact amongst themselves as well as with others, oftentimes showing quite human characteristics that serve to teach us about the world (and in fact some were human at one point or another). In Norse history these are the Poetic Edda and Prose Edda, as well as the Sagas to some extent. In Santería these are the patakís. A principal divergence here is that while the "pantheon" in Santería includes the presence of a primary creator God, Olodumare, no such equivalent exists in the Northern Tradition. (Santería is a monotheistic faith, whereas the Northern Tradition is considered polytheistic. The Orichas are somewhat similar to saints, which lent themselves to being syncretized with Catholicism during slave times in the New World).

2) Both Santería and the Northern Tradition feature a divination style unique to the history of each. In Santería divination is most typically done via the caracoles (Merindilogún, cowrie shells - usually those of Elegua) by Santeros, or using the epuele or Opon Ifá (Table of Ifá) by Babalawos, priests of Orula (I'm sidestepping obi divination since it is essentially a yes/no system that, while extremely helpful and useful, lacks the complexity of the previous two). The heart of both the caracoles and Ifá lies in the Odu (which is too complex a subject to detail here). In the Northern Tradition the wisdom of the runes was granted to Odin after he sacrificed himself (to himself, as it were) for 9 days hanging upside down from the branches of Yggdrasil.
3) Both Santería and the Northern Tradition place heavy emphasis on ancestor veneration. In Santería, our family members who have passed on, previous generations we may never have had a chance to know, even spiritual ancestors (such as those of our god family) form our egun, those without whom we may not exist, those whose own life experiences may have sent vibrations down through our family's energetic ties that could well be influencing us today in ways we may not even be aware of. Our egun, our ancestors, are honored, recognized, petitioned for support and guidance. We offer them water, coffee, flowers, plates of food. We talk with them. We welcome them, invite them to be present for us in any way that they are able.

I honor my egun at my bóveda - my altar. Learning about the Northern Traditions (a term I most commonly use to refer to the Norse/Viking/Germanic pre-Christian spiritual beliefs and tales) is one way that I honor aspects of my biological lineage. While my physical ancestors are diverse (British Isles, southern Italy, Northern Africa, the Middle East, Northern Europe and Scandinavia, even South America) I have always been drawn to Viking history. Thus, it has become an aspect of personal study, it contributes to an extent to my spiritual ideology, and serves as an element of ancestor veneration, even within the context of Santeria.

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I fondly recall listening to my aunt proudly discuss our North Frisian and Danish "Viking" history when I was a young adolescent. She and my uncle named their boat "Norddorf" after the town of my great-grandfather's birth on the island of Amrum in the North Sea. Amrum is one of the North Frisian islands located off the coast of Germany, near Denmark. He, along with his Danish wife, my great-grandmother Emilie, form the first generation of U.S. immigrants on my father's side.

As I started to learn more about ancient Norse mythology I was drawn even more deeply into the fold. I was born on a Wednesday, Odin's Day, and I was born near Yule, a time associated with the Wild Hunt. I found Odin fascinating - a shaman, a warrior, a seeker, a leader, a wanderer, a diviner, in some ways a loner.  Those were attributes that called to me. A couple of years ago I finally began to study the Elder Futhark runic system with more diligence and focus. On my husband's many jaunts to Sweden he has brought me back treasures such as a silver mjölnir pendant which I wear along with my elekes (sacred necklaces of the Orichas which are granted as part of one of the first initiations in the religion). In fact, in a sort of intercultural yin-yang, my husband also wears a mjölnir!

Santería is my religion, the set of traditions into which I am initiated through my god family. It is my heart; in important ways it forms the foundation from which I approach my life, and provides a framework within which I may come to understand (as much as any of us are truly able) my place in the universe. Honoring and learning about the Northern Tradition is one way in which I recognize my biological ancestry, and thus coexists harmoniously with my overall spiritual practice.
Interestingly, as I was writing this post I took a break, and as I was making some tea my husband came home and handed me a surprise package: a carved candle in the form of an elderly man, and a white and tan egg, also a candle. He said that the carved man reminded him of someone who could be my grandfather, and indeed when I saw it I thought of a European mariner. And the egg is connected to my Ángel de la Guarda, Obatalá. Beautiful synchronicities ;-)

Tuesday, November 3, 2015

Contemplating "Home"

Since writing the Samhain post about honoring my grandfather, Giuseppe, the other day, I've been thinking about the concept of "home." He moved around a lot, was an immigrant a few times over, and when I was younger I found some sense of pleasure out of the description my mother gave our family as "nomads." Yes, we have appeared to have a sort of "itch," it seems.

Since our immigrant ancestors, we've ever been on the move. At first perhaps it was due to the pursuit of better economic conditions, but is there something more? A constant search for a feeling of "rightness" and belonging?

Last night I was watching an episode of the Originals (a vampire show) and the topic of "home" popped up. Two of the characters were discussing how fiercely they would defend their right to live in their home city, and I thought, "I don't know what that feels like." To be so connected to the place where you live that you would fight to stay there. So I decided to pull some cards about it. I didn't ask a clear question, I simply held this idea in my mind as I shuffled ("What is home, and how does a lack of home impact me? How do I find home?"). I pulled:

8 of Grails/Cups - Judgement rx - 10 of Skulls/Pentacles rx
Tarot of Vampyres
The 8 of Grails was fitting, since it is a card of movement, of dissatisfaction or lack of fulfillment. It's about going on a journey. There is something here of the nomad experience. The 10 of Skulls is the quintessential "family legacy" card - what do you pass down to future generations, and what have you received from your own ancestors? It's a card a closely associated with the essence of a family's material being and presence. And in the center lies Judgement, provoking so many questions I don't even know where to begin.

I live in central Florida now, but I was born on the east coast, and spent my early years between Connecticut and Rhode Island. At about kindergarten age my natal family moved to Michigan, and for nine years I lived in one town, moving to another (very different) city for the next eighteen years. Then my husband and I packed up our things and our kids, and drove into the deep south. You might think that Michigan would have been that "home" for me, but I felt discontented there despite having lived in that state for most of my life. It didn't feel like home, though it was certainly very familiar.

And while there have been many wonderful aspects about life in our "new" state, I don't feel at home in Florida either. So I ask myself:

Will we always keep moving on in search of a place that feels right? If so, we will never provide that land-rooted legacy for our future generations; instead ours will be a legacy of the nomad, the pilgrim, the wanderer. 

And if we always search, are we destined never to find? 

Is the answer in the act of deciding to stay rooted to a place, to not move even when we feel discontented? 

Is the answer in the realization that our legacy moves within us and doesn't need to be anchored; that perhaps our legacy itself is in our movement?

Is there perhaps no answer at all? 

Perhaps this is the legacy of all immigrants who lose their connection to ancestral lands. There is something to be said for the "family oversoul" - those gentle energetic ties that connect us to our parents, grandparents, great-grandparents and beyond. As I did a cursory search of my own blog I found that for last year's Samhain post I had a "conversation" with my grandmother (who passed on thirty years ago) and the 10 of Pentacles was the heart of the draw. It's interesting that it has come up again almost exactly one year later. In the context of that post the focus was on honoring and reuniting family - the idea that home is where the largest grouping of multigenerational family is. A year ago we were considering moving back to Michigan since my mother and step-father are still there. And yet we are still here, with no plans to go anywhere anytime soon.

I sometimes imagine how our family's oversoul impacts me, us. Does my grandfather's wandering nature wield a more forceful vibration through the generational lines? His children, whose American bloodline epicenter lies in Connecticut, are now in Michigan, Tennessee, and Florida. Two of them are fairly regular world travelers. Their children are in England, New Zealand, Alaska, Saudi Arabia, Boston, Florida, California. The net is cast ever wider. Most of those are world travelers as well.

So is "home" in the people, or in the land? Is it in both? How do we recapture a sense of belonging - to each other, to a particular part of the earth? Or do we not? Do we simply restructure, rebuild, reconfigure family "legacy"? Do we start over, honoring the past and releasing it? I don't know, but I'll be sitting with this for time to come.

Wednesday, October 14, 2015

10 of Bolers: Presence of the Ancestors

This morning I woke up with my son snuggling against me. The first words out of his mouth, still in the haze of sleep, were, "You need to fix your hair, mister!" I smiled at the sweetness of his child's innocence and honesty, all imbued with bottomless love. (Then I complied and put my hair in a bun.)

As I rose I felt drawn to my bóveda (altar). I've been needing to connect with my ancestors for weeks now, and while I continue to tend to my sacred space - changing the water in my glasses, occasionally offering a hot cup of coffee - I still feel the deeper call to really sit with them and invite their constant presence more intentionally into my mind and heart. This morning, after giving the Boy his bowl of cereal, I set a pot on to brew, and when it was ready I brought a steaming mug to my bóveda. Instead of the fly-by offerings of late (work has been hectic, and I've been quite engaged with the Shadow Work October challenge in my "idle" moments), I stood there for a time. I thought of my grandmothers and grandfathers, all of whom have passed on. I felt the presence most noticeably of my paternal grandmother, Lillian, and I acknowledged her. I called off the surnames of all of the forebears that I know of, and then expanded out to the countries and areas of the world where I know that they came from: Italy, the British Isles, Scandinavia, Northern Africa and the Middle East, Germany, Austria and the Netherlands, Hungary...... I opened myself up to honoring all of those who contributed to my bloodlines, all of those without whom my physical being would not be. I asked them to be with me, that I may always be "open" to their support and guidance.
Buckland Romani Tarot
I returned to the kitchen and prepared my own coffee with sugar and cream, and then sat down at the table to pull my card of the day from my new Buckland Romani Tarot app (the first such app I've ever owned, and I'm enjoying it quite a bit!). I received: 10 of Bolers (Pentacles).

And I just smiled, because there they all were, my ancestors, there, present, waiting for me. The 10 of Pentacles is often called the "legacy" card because of the ways in which it represents our material and physical ties to our broader family networks. Thus it is also a primary "ancestor" card. I had never seen this particular version of the 10 of Pentacles before, and there is something special in the position of these people, quietly watching...there. It felt like a warm acknowledgement for me from them.

Amid the toils of everyday work life, woven through the fabric of family togetherness, in the liminal spaces of my thoughts and dreams, my ancestors are there with me.