Two memes and a ghost story

I may cuss from time to time, but I never use the middle finger … well, nearly as much as I’d like to when driving long distance. It’s not wise. Which is why when I saw this one, I was very entertained. I love the history of the thing. Forever more, I will now understand where “FU” comes from. And feel connected to it ancestrally.

Ah, the benefits of being friends with writers who love to share their research.

Pluck Yew is simply something my ancestors did in the 1500’s. Save the finger!

There are too many great memes out there to count, but for All Hallow’s Eve, I decided to choose my favorites.

There have been healers in my family going back to at least 10 generations so I imagine that a lot of what I’m doing right now is no coincidence.

The most authentic experience I’ve ever had with a psychic was in 2008. I went to a retreat in Arizona where a woman standing next to me on line to get into a James Van Praagh day long mediumship. My brother had tragically died the year before. I was feeling nostalgic. In truth, I felt strongly pulled toward wanting to know about grief beyond the ever so logical field of psychology.

This woman told me that I was in psychology along with a slew of things she could not have possibly known. She also told me that I was going to leave psychology to pursue something that was actually meant for me, and then, I would find my calling and great success.

Since then, three different psychics have randomly told me that

  1. I am surrounded by angels
  2. I have psychic gifts myself
  3. My children are powerfully gifted, one of whom will use this gift professionally.
  4. I must heal my past genetic connection to generational trauma, before going on to my next field.
Morticia Adams, my FAVORITE Mother of the Night. The Adams Family

I know. It’s All Hallow’s Eve ~ I have ghost stories and other things not explained in this world. It’s a great thin veil sort of day to share it. I am breaking back into the vault of writing again. Why not tap into my own experiences to write what I know?

One of our ancestors was one of the first women to be hung in Connecticut for being accused of being a witch. We’re talking one of the founders of the earliest states in the USA.


That’s how long my ancestors have been in residence on this land in North America. On the other side of my family tree, I’ve been learning about the tragedy and horror of their story all the way back to the 1700’s.

This is why I am where I am at the moment.

I’ve also learned from the DNA that I have Viking blood and though I am 98% Nordic European, I also have Nigerian blood in me, which is both exciting and horrifying, knowing what I know about how a majority of white Americans came about our black ancestry.

There’s not a damn thing I can do about even one generation ago, let alone ten, but I can educate myself of deep generational trauma that seems to go back well beyond what most people know of their DNA.

Apparently, there is also a slew of both awe inspiring and jaw dropping legacy that’s long forgotten.

I wish I could have one night without a nightmare about people I knew in real time, in my own past. People who caused the PTSD. Instead, I use that psychic and psychological knowledge to create a mindfulness based practice to heal thy self.

Deep thinking requires deep understanding of our origin story. Thanks to my brilliant mother, who is a super sleuth in the genealogy department, I have this information. My aunt on the other side, also delves into the genealogy, but the train wreck left by my father means that I’ll have to rely on the ancestry dot com and 23 and me dot com companies to truly understand the big picture.

Of course, women have been taking the burden of male drama since the dawn of time, but it is something to think about in regards of healing.

Holistic healing requires a fine tuned intuition, which can be made out-of-service when we live through traumatic events.

That’s why I’ve spent the past couple of years in almost total isolation. I know it’s not as romanticized as leaving everything behind to join the monks in Tibet, as many wildly successful celebrity, male motivational speakers did ~ but I’m a mom.

Mom’s don’t fuck around with raising good kids when they are Moms with meaning.

I may be a “what-not-to-wear” in relationships with men, but I’m a damn good mother. Like it or not.

I’ve been blessed with good kids too. Unlike poor Lydia, whose own son turned her in to the constable before running off to Massachusetts to raise a jack wagon governor of the state, before his people kicked him out for being a jerk. SO many great stories.

Well then, we are our own ghost stories. Today, on Samhain, the veil is thin enough for us to manifest the life we want for ourselves. No ancestral ghosts to haunt us. We hold the power.

Of course, there is also dressing up like a taco and go house to house in search of little chocolate nuggets, but that’s never been my thing.

So ~ here we are. On the last full day of the sunny side of the year, where it’s foggy and raining. I’m off to see if I can pick up some candy to put out for tiny humans who don’t give a fudge about our deep ancestral roots and their parents puffing away on those cancer sticks (which, BTW, gross me out and piss me off). Yeah, I’m in the south. It seems like everyone smokes. Not sure why. TOTALLy baffled about it, considering the whole world had changed because of a lung virus.

But I digress.

Happy Halloween to all and to all, a safe night.

(c) @happinessnoir @InkHoneyPub @K.ArenHenryMiller

In honor of my Celtic Pagan Ancestors ~ Photo saved to Pinterest

Published by happinessnoir

Writer | Advocate | Free Range Female | Change Agent | Essayist

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