When The Dead Won’t Speak
My journey into working with the dead was not an easy one. Sometimes I wondered if it would ever happen at all. My expectations were certainly off. I thought it was going to be some grand mystical experience after hours of meditation, chant, drumming, incense burning, staring deeply into an obsidian mirror and watching myself whirl around and around (me being played by the likeness of Belle from Beauty and The Beast) in a vibrant and rich world of the undead. Maybe that works for some—it does not for me.
I always wondered if it was my Moon in Capricorn that kept me from experiencing long meaningful conversations with the dead—having a more pragmatic approach and sometimes cold or rigid views of both emotions and the occult. I came to realize, through much trial and error, there were two things holding me back: expectations, and ancestral veneration.
I think I’m like a lot of people who are drawn to the craft for its healing and empowering focus. Without turning this journal entry into a magnum opus of trauma dumping, I never knew my father and did not have the best relationship with my mother’s family. I was the black sheep for sure, and lot of circumstances forced me to keep myself hidden in plain sight. Ultimately that lead to relationships in my immediate family to strain. I do feel we have all made amends and, after the death of a quintessentially patriarchal grandfather, we have happily scattered ourselves to the winds.
But with that, how do you build a relationship with your ancestors if you do not know who they are? And what can you expect if you do ever break though?
As I stated above I thought the experience was going to be some elaborate, almost hallucinatory, experience—not remembering something my grandfather said while waiting for the S2 bus. So I adjusted my approach and expectations. Learning to focus on the subtle messages that come through unlikely sources: the wind, a car alarm, the rev of a motorcycle, the songs on the radio all became a place to find meaning. But then came the real work: healing past traumas.
I read the book “Ancestral Medicine” by Dr. Daniel Floor and spent hours completing his exercises. I highly recommend this book to anyone, but especially people like me who can be a bit more reserved emotionally and/or have a strained relationship with their immediate family. Through this book I became obsessed with research, and with the help of online resources such as Ancestry.com and others, I managed to weave a beautiful and nebulous tapestry of characters. I was introduced to a coal miner in West Virginia named Littleberry (legal name), and Ben my 5 times great grandfather who was the first to immigrate to the USA from and area outside of Leeds in the mid 18th century. Funny story and side note, he was more than likely forced to leave—sold into indentured servitude to the new colonies for being a petty thief or criminal. If you met half my family you would say: “yeah, that tracks”.
There was another very helpful piece to this puzzle that really helped open up my practice: the death mask. Like the great masquerades of Mardi Gras, you would be surprised just how uninhibited you became from a slightly obscured identity. I would wear it during meditations and healing work from Ancestral Medicine. This was both for me to feel more comfortable and to allow past traumas to wash over me without overtaking me. I also love this as a practice because it can be as elaborate or simple as you with to make it, or you can have different opinions for lineages you wish to work with. A veil? A piece of battered linen? A painted, flowered and bejeweled skull mask--I am nothing if I not a bit extra to be honest.
I found in a short period of time, just from trying to heal my ancestral line, my world was open to all kinds of spirit work. Within a month’s time I could walk into the graveyard and talk to a litany of new friends and allies who wanted nothing more than to advance my magic. Sometimes it is a grand spectacle and sometimes it’s a mocking bird singing a new song. The difference was I put in the work and rewrote my future from analyzing and editing the past narrative.
A few more practices that really helped me:
Offerings: this is a major part of my practice. So much so that I recently had a Geomancy reading done by Kitchen Toad of Instagram (another thing I would highly recommend to anyone—phenomenal experience). It’s such a large part of my practice that they told me to cool it on the offerings or ask for much stuff. They are currently overfed with little to do! If you don’t have a current rite of offering that you use regularly, I recommend starting with the words of Jason Miller in Sorcerer’s Secrets. It’s an incredible template for you to eventually find your own words.
Spirit Houses: building little dwellings for the dead is an amazing way to hold space for them in your daily life. I have several houses and vessels I keep for specific beings, and washes of Datura or Henbane I use to give space to a vessel I might use over again for different spirits.
Creating Your Own Ancestral Line: Over time I felt more comfortable calling spirits I am akin to. When I traveled, I would visit the graves of famous cellist—asking for guidance, leaving offerings and taking a little dirt from their grave to anoint candles and use in oils.
Dumb Suppers: It doesn’t have to be just Samhain, candles lit, chair draped in black voile. You can cook a simple meal in silence at anytime. I like to make a simple porridge of oats, vegetables and stock. Leave some out on the altar and quietly eat my portion while remembering a time when nourishment wasn’t quite as easy to attain as it is now.
However you build relationships with the dead, I hope you get many opportunities to do so this spooky season. I pray you hear your ancestor messages and they bring joy and comfort through the darker days.
Your Friend,