For more than 150 years Memorial Day has been a special time to honor the dead, particularly those who died in war. Though it’s not just those who die who suffer in war.

The energy of war is everywhere–not just in declared wars, but in the anger and unexamined stories living in our heads, prevalent all around us. “They” are out to get us. “They” are crazy. We must fight/deport/demean/erase “them.”

So it feels appropriate today to revisit a blog I posted in May 2022.  I called it Generations and Generations.

Memorial Day.

On a spiritual tour in Ireland in 2015 I had an experience unlike anything before. It popped into mind this morning, and though I haven’t thought about it for a long time, it was one of the most powerful experiences I had there. And it is asking to be told today.

About two-thirds of the way through the 13-day tour we took a ferry to the small Aran island of Innis Mor. Our first stop there was the remains of an early 8th century church that was part of an even earlier monastic village. The ancient church walls sank into the ground, surrounded by gravestones spanning over 1000 years.

We climbed down into the church to explore. The small space felt heavy–with history? Ghosts? As we gathered into a circle we were surprised that the sky filled with clouds and a steady rain began to fall.  Our tour facilitator led us in meditation, suggesting we call in “the warriors of old,” to thank them for their service and courage, to forgive them for any acts they regretted, and to send our love to them.

Wow. I immediately saw in my mind’s eye a long line of warriors and soldiers, from many lands and time periods. There were so many! Tears began to flow as I felt their anger, grief, shame, and longing too. With a start of surprise (and more tears) I sensed that I had been these warriors in previous lifetimes.

As I sent gratitude and forgiveness I could feel in each one—and in myself—great relief.

Then with a new wave of tears I began to see the many mothers and wives of these men, trying to carry on. My heart burst open even more as I felt within me their grief and anger, realizing that I had been those women too.

I sent gratitude and forgiveness. And again, felt some relief.

Afterwards I was both emotionally drained and oddly energized. Washed clean. Stunned by the experience.The rain, our accompaniment to sorrow,   stopped, and did not return for the rest of the day.

Generations and generations.

We were the warriors. On all “sides” of the fight.

We were the wives and mothers.

Thank you. I love you. I forgive you. I feel your grief.

May we grieve together.

Together may we one day break the spell that knows only one way through conflict.