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Underground > Temple >

Ritual Forms of Ancestor Reverence

  
  

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EmberLeo
21:28 / 30.10.06
Well, if you're looking at slices, yes, ribs, and T-bone steaks.

But it sounds like you're looking for a big ol' leg roast of some kind, yeah?

You don't have to blush to the butcher about bones - tell 'em you want to make stock out of the leftovers. That's normal.

--Ember--
 
 
EmberLeo
21:44 / 30.10.06
Okay, I've looked at a few cuts.

Readily available:
Ribs
T-Bone steak (NY steak + small Filet, with the bone between)
Porterhouse steak (like a T-Bone, but more expensive with a larger Filet side)
Bone-in Ribeye steak

A larger hunk-of-leg cut should be a "Bone-in Shank" but I'm not sure you'll be able to find such a thing. They're good for stewing. Having the bone in a piece like this means you've got the marrow, cartilage, and calcium going into the broth, along with the meat, so it's a Good Thing, and mundane to want.

Taking a peak at pictures of cuts it looks like
Cross-cut Brisket has bone, and there may be a kind of Bone-in Round, but I'm not sure.

--Ember--
 
 
sorenson
23:06 / 30.10.06
Um, not nearly as interesting as some of the other offerings in this thread, but here goes. I only really honour my mother - there isn't anybody else close enough to me that has died yet (I am lucky, I guess, in a way). I feel like I am pretty bad at it, actually, but there are a few small things I do. My aunt and I both planted the same variety of rose for her (I posted a photo of mine here - it's the first one). I drink a glass of really good shiraz (her favourite) in one of her beautiful waterford crystal wine glasses on her birthday and on the day she died each year - sometimes I pour out a glass for her too (I wish I remembered to do it every time). I have her ashes in a lovely red velvet bag, sitting on a shelf of significant trinkets and photos and gathering dust. I want to put her ashes in the ocean at Byron Bay, which was one of her favourite places, but my brother and I have an ongoing disagreement about what her wishes were, so for the moment she will keep visiting with me (she always wanted to and hardly ever did, so I think it's ok).

I always wish I did more but am not very comfortable with ritual so this is all I manage.
 
 
Ticker
23:25 / 30.10.06

sorenson that seems like a great deal of very meaningful exchanges, which to me, is the important thing.

Ember and Princess rawk on with your bad selves! I'll let you know what the butcher provides in the AM.
 
 
Ticker
13:13 / 31.10.06
picked up a bone-in rib roast. Not even going to think about the cost of the thing for fear of having my head explode.
Also 2/3 a pound of lovely raw tuna for the dead kitty cats.

I'll start cooking this afternoon while prepping the house for the dead. Chocolate, beef, tuna, milk, whiskey, water, and oat cakes.
 
 
the Kite
18:04 / 01.11.06
As part of last night's festivities I led a group of us in a symbel (aka' sumble', 'sumbel', 'symble') dedicated to dead heroes.

The frame: ancient indo-European practice of calling to mind the dead and thereby ensuring the continuance of their memory on earth, through envisioning them in Valhalla, the Hall of the Fallen, and toasting them. It mattered not that we toasted no Viking warriors; after all, Gandhi sits in Valhalla with a glass of water in front of him (so I learned). They weren't going to let him in, but apparently he refused to budge and after a little talk with the management they decided he ought to come in.

The acts: drinking horn raised, each in turn briefly recounted the story of someone signicant to us and departed. We shared some moving stories of people we would like to have known, to colossal cheering. Several rounds of this and we could feel the dead around us.

Unimpressed by the specialness of my own generations of relatives, I never gave my ancestors much thought until I chose last year to transgress my disbelief in life after death by learning mediumship. Another paradigm bites the dust.

So earlier this year I involved myself in a campaign just started by a local Druid, called 'Dead to Rights', or alternatively 'Dead Rights'. He challenges the attitudes of archeologists towards the ancient dead, and wishes that the archeologists, having finished their essential work, respect whatever beliefs the original buriers held and return the remains to their chosen resting place. We began with a vigil at Paviland Cave, Gower, South Wales, the site of the so-called Red Lady excavation. Funnily enough, by sheer synchronicity of course, the curators of the Oxford museum which holds that man's remains have agreed to loan them to a Welsh museum. Not quite what we aim for but a step in the right direction.
 
 
LoraOB
09:33 / 02.11.06
Pouring libations is big in some cultures -- the African diaspora. I think I've seen it among urban African-Americans, even -- spilling a bit of whatever you're drinking on the ground for someone who's gone.

This is still an active tradition at Irish funerals. My Granda travelled from Dublin to the West to be buried a few years back. In a coffin and hearse, of course. The body is never left unattended, and he got many a glass of whiskey poured for him on the way down, on the various stops that were made.
 
 
EmberLeo
09:56 / 02.11.06
So since why I was wanting to gather this stuff (and still do, so keep it commin' folks!) was to figure out what I need to be doing, I suppose I should tell you how my Samhain went.

My lover and I went out into the world, as intended. It took a little while, because traffic made me two hours late. So both of us were low blood sugar, I was grumpy and PMS-y, and he had a splitting headache. Not the best way to start the evening - we both just wanted to escape, and neither of us could settle in, or figure out what to do.

A dear friend of my Lover (who has done far more good solid death work than I most likely ever will) just happened to brew Pomegranate Mead this year, she sold me a bottle early because she knew what I'd need it for. I have long since thoroughly internalized the symbol of Pomegranates as having to do with the transition of seasons and the life/death cycle. I'm concious of the image of each of those little seeds being a drop of blood, and the overall shape being not unlike an egg. (I have a whole stream-of-conciousness dissertation on the significance of eggs in my LJ, if anyone cares.)

So we started with a drink of the mead, in an effort to get in the swing of things. Then we walked to get food, with the intention of Walking The World thereafter, but we finally realized we were more in the mood for a drive in the woods than a walk in the city. So after dinner we walked back to the house, packed up the rest of our food, and the mead, and headed out to Inspiration Point.

We got out there just after park curfew, so the place was empty. I sat down, and looked up to the sky, and saw quite clearly the shape of a grinning skull with a twinkling star in one eye. I pointed this out to my Lover, who had no difficulty seeing it, but the wind had blown it past the star, so he didn't catch Papa winking at me.

He cast a simple circle and immediately felt much better. Then I felt a prompt to set the space in the manner I was taught for calling the Lwa, and asked Legba to please let my Papa Ghede through. I didn't go through all the steps, though - just the prayers, not the Veves. I wasn't aiming for posession, just communication. I nevertheless got a pretty solid shadow, and spent a moment considering the significance of seeing two different worlds through my two eyes.

Then I poured more of the pomegranate mead, and poured out libations for the Barons, the Ghedes, the Brigittes, the Petite Morte, the path of Papa Ghede that specifically works through me, my ancestor ally Alice, and my recently deceased cat, Rascal.

Then I passed the cup to my Lover, and saw his own creature-ally in the clouds behind him. I thought that he should offer some drink for him, which I didn't say, but found out later he did indeed do.

Then I took the cup back and found myself thinking "Take, Drink, this is my blood which is given to you - do this for the rememberance of me." I shook my head, because I haven't worked with Jesus all that much since I was an acolyte for my Episcopal church growing up. But this isn't the first Samhain Jesus has shown up to point out He is a dead guy, so I thought about the Ancestor Reverence implications of the offerring, and added in the thought of the cup not being a cup of my salvation, but of being a cup of Their salvation.

I considered the blood not to just be that of one Son of God, but of all the children of god who came before me - all my ancestors whose blood flows through my veins today. In drinking in that offerring, in carrying forward the blood They have lost in my own blood, I carry Them. I gift to Them the magic that is uniquely that of the living.

For just a moment as I tasted the first sip, it tasted like the port I remembered from Communion, instead of pomegranate mead. Next year I must remember to bring some sort of bread.

I had a bit of a conversation with Papa about how blood, though we seem to fear the sight of it as a harbinger of Death, is unique to the living. Bones may last for quite some time, but blood only flows until you die. This is why They so miss the blood. Missing blood is missing life. This is why we offer Them libations - symbols of blood. We offer Them the one thing we have to give that They do not have, and we offer Them pieces of ourselves to hold in exchange for pieces of Them we accept in Their love, which we take unto ourselves, thus making Them immortal.

I thought I heard Papa scold me for worrying about passing cars, and I thought I heard Him say He would hold back the park rangers from kicking us out until we had finished the work He needed me to do, but not long after I had that thought the rangers came by. I had my Lover drive, because I was still half-out in meditative trance.

So we drove for hours comparing notes on what we had each experienced, and what it meant to us, and what the work we are trying to do with eachother means, and other such details sideways to the narrative.

One of the conversations was about the significance to the names of relationships, like Child vs. Daughter vs. Grandaughter. Auntie vs. Aunt. Mother vs. Mama vs. Older Sister. Papa Ghede addresses me privately as His "granddaughter", but in my work with the outside work on His behalf, I'm His "daughter" - as though I have been adopted by my grandparents, because there is some reason my parents cannot raise me in this context (that reason being that my "parents" are not African powers - They're European).

All this gives a whole new meaning to "blood relatives" eh?

Finally, when we got home, I got out my divination copy of Alice in Wonderland / Through the Looking Glass, with intent to tie up my evening with a bit of communcation with my Aunt Alice (the name is synchronous - I won't say it's a coincidence, but Alice really is my Great Aunt's name). I settled into the bibliomancy process, but didn't get as far as opening the book, because no sooner had I asked my first question than I heard "You'll get clearer answers from Us if you don't open the book."

And then I heard the giggling of several women having tea. Aunt Alice stood behind me as my Great Grandma on my Mom's Mother's side introduced me to my Dad's Mother, my Dad's Father's Mother, and several other direct Ancestresses I'd never officially met before. They mostly just said hello, and that it was about time I got around to specifically noticing Them. When They caught me doubting my senses on the subject, They suggested I go ahead and open the book for confirmation. So I went ahead and asked the book if I was percieving correctly.

I found my finger squarely seated on the Mad Hatter in the picture of the Tea Party - point taken on several levels.

They mostly like tea, except one of them prefers coffee, one lady prefers brandy, and my Aunt Alice would still appreciate the occasional sherry. They told me just holding that copy of Alice would be enough for now to reach Them, if it would lend me confidence, or act as a cue, or whatever it is that I need to help me pay attention.

Then they let me go to enjoy "the company of [my] gentleman".

And with that conversation, the sense of pressure I've been feeling for the last several weeks was gone. So I guess I did alright...

--Ember--
 
 
Mr. Austin
21:44 / 06.11.06
I've never actually felt a true connection to any culture. Being born in Colombia and raised by white folks in the States leaves you very adaptable to any culture you have to be a part of. I don't know if it's because of my neutral qualities or what, but every culture I've ever seen is very relatable in its own way. Sometimes I like to pretend I'm actually cultureless, and can connect to everyone.
 
 
EmberLeo
21:53 / 06.11.06
I think I know what you mean... So how do you relate that to Ancestor Reverence?

--Ember--
 
 
Mr. Austin
00:30 / 07.11.06
Just in that I'm very receptive to all sorts of celebrations.

I've noticed the modern Jewish celebration of Passover and several bat mitzvahs

I've attended a zendo in Brooklyn many times, as well as read basic "what is Buddhism" literature from my father.

I've seen Catholic communions, and their rituals, of historical reverence.

And now I've been introduced to the concepts of other reverence towards the immediate dead, and not just the past. A very local and powerful spirit that exists of our parents, and grandparents and so on.

It's not celebrated in white America so much, so I suppose the practice seems odd to me, but I respect it and feel a spiritual connection to the immediate dead.
 
 
alphito
02:48 / 07.11.06
ember, thank you for that breakdown of your night; these are the kind of stories that brought me here.

this year, for the first time, i/we (my SO and i) finally managed to have a dumb supper, instead of just talking about it. it was a first for most of us present, all from differing paths.

it was the first public ritual i had written and performed, and the biggest meal i had prepared in a long time; i was a bit nervous, wanting so badly for it to be worthy of the ancestors. all of us found that in the days preceding, the energy in all we did had been infuriatingly staticky, sticky, stuck, but as the event itself unwound, everything settled into being more than a little bit better than its usual self, the offerings accepted, the air very bright.

while eating, conscious of the shy deep glances of those around me at their beloved departed ones all around us, i was acutely aware of the countless meals that had been prepared and given to me with love by my own, without which i would not now be present. their hands now transmuted, and their legacy still present in my breath. each bite recalled one's signature dish, another's favorite; each taste was so intense.

when all was said and done, we all felt filled with a nearly overwhelming gratitude that lasted for days, and i've noticed subtle changes within myself. a little clearing of small confusions, a little more gentle awareness.

another small thing which i had done earlier was to make papercut skeleton decorations for my workplace windows and our dining room, some dancing, with bows and big dresses and earrings and such. i had not expected it to become a small devotional meditation, but that it did.

so much was learned this go-round. i hope it was a fruitful time for all of you as well.
 
 
grant
20:58 / 09.11.06
"Dia de las Natitas" means "Day of the Skulls" in Bolivia.
 
 
EmberLeo
22:12 / 09.11.06
i hope it was a fruitful time for all of you as well.

My time since then has only gotten more fruitful. My Umbanda House did a new style of Ghede and Brigitte devotional this year, as the Mama was inspired/prompted to present.

Since Ghede is my Papa in the house, the Ghede devotional is a major event for me on a personal level as well as in the more general sense.

This year we had a 3-round Devotional. The first round was Silence, in which to quietly consider our beloved dead and ancestors. After having helped set up the altars with stuff from my own personal altars at home, and brought out the rest of the Pomegranate mead from Samhain, I was definitely in the headspace to consider this.

I'm still a little embarassed to admit that despite great losses near me, my own greatest loss was the recent death of my dear cat who I'd had since I was 7 years old. I'm still very upset about this. Pondering my ancestors, beloved dead, and my dear cat, I found myself feeling a bit weak.

So I asked the Mama if I could please get out my Papa's cane early to lean on (it would normally be a trance cue to invite Him to posess me, which requires the Mama's permission, so I thought it prudent to check with her first). As soon as I had His cane in hand I felt immediately more secure, and supported - not so much by the cane, of course, as by my Papa.

The second part was a Funeral. We each had a chance to honor our beloved dead, and three more official eulogies were offerred to particular Ancestors of the House (i.e. dead beloved to the House as a whole, and the local community, rather than specific individuals), and, because I had requested something along those lines, for our beloved animal dead.

After everyone had had their chance to speak, I sang a particularly good mourning song I know. It was well recieved.

Immediately thereafter, I began shaking helplessly.

Mind you, it wasn't violent shaking, I wasn't shivering, nor did I feel like I was going to come apart at the seams. I simply didn't have the ability to stop for more than a moment or two. It wasn't scary, but it was a bit disturbing, since I've never experienced anything like it before.

The third part of the ritual was the Wake. A party for our Death Powers - Maman Brigitte's tea party, and Her invited guests, which this year included Bast and Kozo (for our animals) in honor, but not embodied, Hekate (that's a first), Hella, and the Morrigan. And, of course, Papa Ghede Himself, to round out the group.

(I should note that we had Exu-Yangi as well, but of course we always do. There's no calling the other powers without first calling the gatekeeper).

I am one of the leaders of the chorus, because I have such a good memory for music, sense for the beat, strong voice, and ability to draw others into singing. It's just one of my talents, really, so they make use of it. So I helped sing all the others out, and sang out my Papa before going out for Him myself.

I stopped shaking as soon as He came out to dance with His wife. I had a good experience trancing Him this year, and for the first time He actually left me early. It was very strange.

Afterwards I was exhausted, and didn't have nearly the energy I had last year. So I skipped the Bal des Vampyres that I'd planned to attend, and stayed behind instead.

After talking to the Mama for a while about how it had all gone for me, my Ghede necklace broke. Mama told me it was because the work I had been doing with the aspect of my Papa represented by that necklace pattern is done, and it's time for me to move into a new phase of learning with Him.

In the days immediately following (and I do mean immediately) it's been brought forcefully to my attention that I am to begin actually working on the Soul Retrieval work that was first brought to my attention two years ago at a memorial ritual at PantheaCon.

Whew!

My life just keeps getting more interesting!

--Ember--
 
 
grant
20:06 / 05.11.07
Temple folk may be interested in scholarship linking faerie lore to spirits of the dead.

That link (which I ganked off a maillist) goes to Walter Yeeling Evans-Wentz's The Fairy-Faith in Celtic Countries, published in 1911 - specifically, the section on "Fairy-Faith" and the cult of the dead, and even more specifically, a page that quotes Jeremiah Curtin's Tales of the Fairies and of the Ghost World, from 1895, saying: The attributes of a ghost--that is to say, the spirit of a dead man--are indistinguishable from those of a fairy.

There are some interesting notes about Samain (sic) and milk libations....
 
 
A fall of geckos
21:25 / 05.11.07
"The attributes of a ghost--that is to say, the spirit of a dead man--are indistinguishable from those of a fairy."

I've come across this before, but as well as fairy and the land of the dead, dreams where also included in the mix. This makes a certain sense to me, as dreams are a place we can see people who've died.
 
 
EmberLeo
08:11 / 06.11.07
That actually makes a certain amount of sense in a Heathen context. Alfheim is translated as "Elf Home" or "Elf Land" (roughly), and yet "Alfar" also refers to male ancestors.

Ya know, I should post this year's Samhain stuff here too, eh? I'll try to work on writing it up...

--Ember--
 
 
Less searchable M0rd4nt
17:16 / 29.05.08
Isn't "Alf" used as a sort of catch-all term for supernatural beings in general--male ancestors, the Gods, elves etc--as well as for what might be called Elves in particular?
 
 
Less searchable M0rd4nt
07:49 / 14.09.11
Bumping for awesome.
 
  

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