Last night I traveled backwards across the dateline, having slipped behind the exotic curtain of Japanese culture for two eye-opening weeks.
The impetus for my journey was an invitation from the Toda Institute for Global Peace and Policy Research to participate in an interfaith roundtable on the topic of Warrior and Pacifist Traditions in the Three Abrahamic Religions and Buddhism.
Our circle was composed of about twenty faith leaders and scholars from around the world—Tunisia, Myanmar, Sri Lanka, Syria, Norway, Japan, Great Britain, Israel and Palestine—all engaged in some of the most pressing issues on the planet: ethnic violence, nuclear disarmament, post-war rebuilding, massive homelessness.
The ancestral field has its own magical magnetic pull on us. It compels us toward it like a riptide with both the unworked trauma and the accrued wisdom of the past. So you might find yourself doing things that make no sense at all in the context of your own life, be drawn to certain pass times or people, or have a hidden compulsion that riddles your health…until you discover that you are following the pull of an earlier family member, an ancestor’s unfulfilled dream, or undigested tragedy.
Who are your people? Were they refugees or immigrants, farmers or intelligentsia, victims of war or business magnates? Perhaps they struggled with poverty, the shame of rape, unemployment, mental illness, or addiction. Their past experiences, especially when they are not processed completely, leave a residue in the family’s field.
The past does not disappear. The blessings of our ancestors as well as their painful patterns lie dormant in the unconscious field of the family. And since life is constantly trying to heal and complete itself, this residue can land in the lap of the most sensitive offspring.