The Ancestors
Kindred Essay: The Ancestors
The Alfar and Disr are those men and women of the tribe who have left the world before us. Those closest to us are those who shared our own blood, but the forebears of the mind and heart also guide our lives.
In Norse belief, our oorlog is tied to and shaped by the deeds of our Ancestors just as our deeds will affect the wyrd of our descendants. Even after death, the Alfar and Disr may effect change in our lives; though it is the Disr who concern themselves more with the individual lives of the tribe.
Until recently, I had not felt any strong connection with my Ancestors. I had not been close to any of my family who had passed, even my paternal grandfather. To me the Ancestors were an idea, a theory that I accepted in general but to which I felt no immediate connection of internal understanding. While I toasted them in Symbel and offered to them at Samhain and Beltainne and often made the grove offerings to them in ritual, I did it as a matter of form, not of faith. It occurred to me that perhaps I felt no bonds with the Ancestors because I shared no true blood with my family who had passed. Intellectually I knew that blood and descent are only one part of connection, but…
Then my maternal grandmother died and I learned what it was to mourn. Then I learned what it was to have a need so strong it was tangible for there to be a connection beyond death. I began to understand the power of the Ancestors…
But, still, though I called to her and made offering to her at Samhain, it was unsatisfying, I could not quite believe that the Ancestors heard us. Recently, experience brought me a new level of appreciation. I dreamt, a powerful, chilling dream in which my grief, two years old and yet still raw, for my grandmother was acknowledged and I was consoled by another of my Ancestors—not of my blood but undoubtedly of my heart. I was surprised that he had found me through the fog of bloodlines and heart lines, and years of forgetfulness. When I woke, I knew that it had not been just a dream, I could feel the vestiges of grief and relief in my body and could catch the scent of my heart-Alfar.
At a Heathen festival I had the opportunity to participate in a Seidr rite, a ritual in which a Seidr-kona (priestess) channels messages from the halls of the dead. I asked how my Ancestors wanted me to connect with them. I was answered that I should tell stories about them and their lives. I hadn't learned many stories about my family and was a bit concerned that I wouldn't be able to follow up. I was also skeptical since it seemed such a pat answer. Then the seidr-kona said a small woman was approaching and said “that which is remembered, lives.” The last words said to me by my grandmother. My skepticism gone, I began to pester my family for stories and to pass on tales I knew that they hadn't heard.
This connection is one that I am still, after so many years on this path, forging.
The Alfar and Disr are those men and women of the tribe who have left the world before us. Those closest to us are those who shared our own blood, but the forebears of the mind and heart also guide our lives.
In Norse belief, our oorlog is tied to and shaped by the deeds of our Ancestors just as our deeds will affect the wyrd of our descendants. Even after death, the Alfar and Disr may effect change in our lives; though it is the Disr who concern themselves more with the individual lives of the tribe.
Until recently, I had not felt any strong connection with my Ancestors. I had not been close to any of my family who had passed, even my paternal grandfather. To me the Ancestors were an idea, a theory that I accepted in general but to which I felt no immediate connection of internal understanding. While I toasted them in Symbel and offered to them at Samhain and Beltainne and often made the grove offerings to them in ritual, I did it as a matter of form, not of faith. It occurred to me that perhaps I felt no bonds with the Ancestors because I shared no true blood with my family who had passed. Intellectually I knew that blood and descent are only one part of connection, but…
Then my maternal grandmother died and I learned what it was to mourn. Then I learned what it was to have a need so strong it was tangible for there to be a connection beyond death. I began to understand the power of the Ancestors…
But, still, though I called to her and made offering to her at Samhain, it was unsatisfying, I could not quite believe that the Ancestors heard us. Recently, experience brought me a new level of appreciation. I dreamt, a powerful, chilling dream in which my grief, two years old and yet still raw, for my grandmother was acknowledged and I was consoled by another of my Ancestors—not of my blood but undoubtedly of my heart. I was surprised that he had found me through the fog of bloodlines and heart lines, and years of forgetfulness. When I woke, I knew that it had not been just a dream, I could feel the vestiges of grief and relief in my body and could catch the scent of my heart-Alfar.
At a Heathen festival I had the opportunity to participate in a Seidr rite, a ritual in which a Seidr-kona (priestess) channels messages from the halls of the dead. I asked how my Ancestors wanted me to connect with them. I was answered that I should tell stories about them and their lives. I hadn't learned many stories about my family and was a bit concerned that I wouldn't be able to follow up. I was also skeptical since it seemed such a pat answer. Then the seidr-kona said a small woman was approaching and said “that which is remembered, lives.” The last words said to me by my grandmother. My skepticism gone, I began to pester my family for stories and to pass on tales I knew that they hadn't heard.
This connection is one that I am still, after so many years on this path, forging.