Honoring Ancestral Connections Through Joy
Physical Setting & Preparation
Find a space where you can sit undisturbed, ideally near a window where you can observe the sky or outdoors if weather permits. Place before you something green—a plant, a sprig of fresh herbs, or even a green cloth. Add a small dish of salt or soil to represent the earth, and if possible, include a candle in white, green, or gold. Sit comfortably with your spine straight and shoulders relaxed. Place your hands palms up on your knees, open to receiving the blessings of your ancestors. Take seventeen deep breaths—one for each day that has passed in this month—allowing each inhale to connect you to those who came before and each exhale to ground you in present joy.
Opening Invocation | Fosgladh
Air an t-seachdamh latha deug den Mhàrt,
Latha Naomh Pàdraig,
Eadar an seann saoghal agus an saoghal ùr,
Tha mi a' cuimhneachadh mo shinnsrean le aoibhneas.
A Mhàthair na talmhainn, thoir orm an cluinntinn a' seinn.
On this seventeenth day of March,
Saint Patrick's Day,
Between the old world and the new,
I remember my ancestors with joy.
Mother of the earth, let me hear them singing.
Feel the special energy of March 17th—a day when cultures around the world celebrate ancestral connections through Saint Patrick's Day. The veil between worlds feels thinner today, allowing easier communion with those who walked before us. This mirrors the seasonal transition, as winter's ancestors (fallen leaves, dormant seeds) nurture spring's new growth. Notice how even the light seems to carry stories today, filtering through clouds or trees with a quality that speaks of both memory and possibility. Visualize your joy not as a solitary experience but as a thread in a tapestry that extends backward through generations and forward into the future.
Body of the Working | Corp
Tha aoibhneas ar sinnsrean mar abhainn,
A' sruthadh tron fhuil againn fhathast.
Tha e a' teagasg dhuinn seasmhachd,
Mar a mhaireas an talamh tro gach linn.
The joy of our ancestors is like a river,
Still flowing through our blood.
It teaches us resilience,
As the earth endures through every age.
Touch the salt or soil before you. Earth carries the memory of all who have lived upon it—their footsteps, their labors, their celebrations. Feel its texture, its ancientness, its patience. This is the body of the Mother Earth, who holds the remains of your ancestors and transforms them into new life, season after season.
Now, bring your awareness to your body. Where do you feel the inheritance of joy most strongly? Perhaps in your feet that love to dance, your hands that create, your voice that sings or tells stories, or your eyes that appreciate beauty. As you locate these gifts, acknowledge them as both yours and not yours—expressions of a lineage of joy that flows through you but did not begin with you. With each breath, imagine this ancestral joy becoming more vibrant within you, not as a burden of expectation but as a wellspring of strength and connection.
The Deep Working | An Obair Dhomhain
A Mhàthair na talmhainn, fosgail mo chluasan,
Gus an cluinn mi guth mo shinnsrean.
Cuir an ceòl aca nam chridhe,
Gus am bi aoibhneas nan linn a' dannsa nam chuislean.
Mother of the earth, open my ears,
That I may hear my ancestors' voice.
Place their music in my heart,
So the joy of ages dances in my veins.
Light the candle if you have one, watching how its flame dances and leaps—alive yet connected to ancient fire. Close your eyes and imagine yourself standing in a lush green field that slopes gently toward distant hills. The grass beneath your feet feels springy and vital. The air carries the scent of blooming things and damp, fertile soil. All around you, wildflowers create bursts of color—white, yellow, purple, and the vibrant green of Saint Patrick's Day.
In this sacred space, you begin to perceive that you are not alone. The field is filled with presences—not fully visible but felt with certainty. These are your ancestors, not just of blood but of spirit and practice—all those who have loved the earth as you do, who have celebrated its cycles, who have found joy in its beauty.
As you stand among them, the Mother of the Earth appears at the center of the gathering. She wears a mantle of moss and early spring flowers, and her eyes hold the memory of countless generations. "Your joy is their legacy," she speaks, her voice carrying on the breeze. "When you celebrate life, you honor their struggles and triumphs."
She beckons you closer and places in your hands a small harp made of living wood, its strings glowing like sunlight. "This instrument plays the music of your lineage," she explains. "Its melody contains both sorrows and celebrations, for true joy embraces the fullness of life."
As your fingers touch the strings, music fills the air—sometimes lilting and playful, sometimes deep and reverent. With each note, the presences around you become more distinct. You see faces alight with recognition, hands reaching out in blessing, eyes filled with the same wonder you feel when standing beneath stars or beside blooming trees.
"They rejoice when you rejoice," the Mother continues. "Your capacity for joy is built upon foundations they established through their living and loving. This is not a weight to carry but a gift to celebrate."
Feel the music resonating through your entire being, awakening cellular memories of belonging to an unbroken chain of life. Remain in this connection for several minutes, breathing deeply and allowing joy to flow freely between you and those who came before.
Afterthought | Smuain Dheiridh
Take a moment to contemplate:
How might acknowledging my ancestral connections deepen rather than diminish my personal joy? What practices or celebrations from my heritage bring me most fully into the present moment? In what ways might I become a worthy ancestor to future generations by fully embracing joy now?
Closing Blessing | Beannachd Dheiridh
Tha mi a' toirt taing dhuibh, a shinnsrean dhìleas,
Airson an t-sòlais a dh'fhàg sibh mar dhìleab.
Mar a thig gach blàth bhon t-sìol,
Mar sin thig m' aoibhneas bho bhur beatha.
Tha mi a' giùlan bhur dànachd leam.
I give thanks to you, faithful ancestors,
For the joy you left as legacy.
As each blossom comes from seed,
So my joy comes from your lives.
I carry your boldness with me.
Extinguish the candle if lit, acknowledging that its light continues in another form. Touch the green plant or cloth, connecting with the color that symbolizes both Ireland and the vibrant life force that flows through all generations. Finally, hold the dish of salt or soil between your palms for a moment, recognizing it as both the final resting place and the womb of renewal for all who have lived.
Rise slowly, carrying ancestral joy within you. Know that on this seventeenth of March, as people around the world celebrate heritage and connection, you too stand in a stream of celebration that extends far beyond your individual life—a current of joy that has sustained human hearts through countless seasons of challenge and change.
I went to a funeral yesterday of a young man I worked with. I thought of my dad telling me about growing old, much like my friend grew ill. We were standing out on my back deck - "I'm really not afraid to die, though I do dread the sting of death. But I have to say, I always believed I'd get out of it." He always laughed. And sang. He never stopped singing, I thought my co-worker would get out of it - at least for a bit longer. But we don't and that's part of the magic of this shimmering mirage - like this morning's spring frost, gone so quickly when the sun hits. But still, it was there and it was beautiful.
Thank you, Wendy, for this truly moving piece. Remarkable, lovely. 🌱