Oracle: The wind in the trees (Copy)

The message: Listen. The voice of your ancestors is calling you. 

When the wind blows through the trees, 

can you hear their whispers through the leaves? 

The wind is the breath, the leaves are the instrument. 

Whenever I want to connect to my ancestors, I sit under the trees. As a kid, I did this, too, though I didn’t think about it this way. But all the same, I felt that I was being held somehow,  as I sat under trees, or climbed up into their branches. I used to sit in pine trees for hours, just sitting. Just listening. Just being. The feeling I get when I hear the leaves in the wind is a feeling of being supported, of being unconditionally loved. 

A story: 

Talking to one’s ancestors does not have to be complicated, and it doesn’t have to be about anything deep. For example, I decided last year to ask my departed paternal grandfather about his spaghetti sauce recipe. 

My grandfather’s parents came to the US from Sicily, and he grew up in the traditions of Italian Americans in Milwaukee. His spaghetti was a big part of my childhood. And yet, nobody wrote down his recipe. I was planning for my parents’ upcoming visit, and I wanted so much to make this dish for my father, to remind him of his dad. So I started talking to my grandfather in my meditations, asking  him to share his recipe with me. I didn’t expect it to come right away. I went about my life and relaxed my mind.

A few days later, I went and sat under the big maple and oak trees in my backyard and called on my Nonno. I could feel his presence as the leaves whispered around me. And what I heard was this: 

The most important ingredient is the celebration. Make it a party. Make sure to have music. Make sure to have lots of people in the house. Make sure to ask the people to help you in little ways. Mushrooms are good if you have them, but not necessary. And make sure, don’t forget, to have the music. 

So, when my parents visited, I did just that. The sauce came out nicely; everyone liked it. And then, as we were eating, I remembered the music. I put on a song that my grandfather used to sing. And the song was, indeed, the magic ingredient. It was the song that made my father cry, that made him feel his connection to his father, deeply and viscerally. And as our family held this space together, I felt my grandfather feeling the connection to his son, and to me, his granddaughter, and to his great grandson who he had only met once, as a new baby.

An invitation: 

Pay attention to the soft whispers you hear in the trees. Pay attention to  your connection to your ancestors. Think of someone you love, on the other side, and request their presence, their wisdom. Go outside and sit among the trees. Listen for their voices as the wind blows through. Feel the comfort and connection to them. Ask them a question. And simply listen with an open, relaxed mind. See what feelings arise. Thank your loved ones for speaking to you. 

An affirmation: 

May I be open to experiencing the loving presence and wisdom of my ancestors. 

From original sketch to finished piece