Writing Creatively With Spirit

A journey of psychic discovery

Making connections, finding roots, healing wounds

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Wednesday 19th March 2014

I arrived as my uncle was repairing his saw

I arrived as my uncle was repairing his saw

In the last post Brandon Hill by the scenic route I described the journey to Clarendon. This was not just a tourist outing, but a journey to re-connect with my family, some of whom I’ve not seen since I was eight years old – many of whom I have never met.

This trip was also a response to spirit guidance (mainly my maternal grandmother whom I’ve never met) to come home, as there was a role for me in healing the generational pain in the family.

I arrived tired at my uncle’s house, but was instantly refreshed by his welcome (he didn’t know I was coming). He is the keeper of the family’s history. Imagine my amazement when he pointed to the land next to his house and said ‘that’s the burial ground’.

Graves marked by trees

Graves marked by trees

All I could see was a relatively bare patch of land with a few trees and some stumps. No head-stones, no mounds, no actual graves. Yet he knew the exact location of generations of my family. The first one he took me to was my grandmother’s, the one who had been so insistent that I should return.

He then showed me others; her parents and grandparents burial spots were marked with tree stumps, some looked newly pruned.

Grave marked by tree

Grave marked by tree

He explained the relationships and the feuds which has left a rift within the family and divided loyalties.

I asked ‘Has the land ever been consecrated?’

‘Not that I know of’ he replied, ‘and I’ve been here a long time.’

I had a sense that what was needed was healing and reconciliation. I asked if he’d mind if I said a prayer on the land. Meeting with no objection I agreed to do so the following day as I had no idea what I was supposed to say and to whom, but I trusted that if I slept on it I’d be guided. I couldn’t have been brought this far to be abandoned.

After joyous meetings with my brother and many nieces, nephews and their children I returned the following day to the land.

Me and my cousins

Me and my cousins

The two main protagonists were buried side by side, each with a tree. They were close enough for me to just about hold both and I imagined that I was holding their hands while praying for their hurts to be healed so that they, and the family, can be at peace. As I did so a hummingbird appeared beside me, its feathers a shimmering green as it drank nectar from a nearby tree. It stayed till the prayer was complete. I then walked around the ground speaking to all the others and praying for their peace also.

My brother and I

My brother and I

I’m not sure how this will play out, by I had a sense of personal peace that I had responded to the call and done my bit.

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Author: predencia

Author of novels Dare to Love and Betrayed www.pennydixon.com poetry anthology Raw www.cymbalspublishing.co.uk and blogger www.writingcreativelywithspirit.com

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