It’s funny what a change in perspective can do for you.
I’ve been thinking about my ancestors recently. ANZAC Day always brings them to the fore. I’m almost ashamed I give them so little thought during the rest of the year.
When I was divined, Hemet (AUS) told me that my ancestors were proud of me. Even now, to think on those words makes me choke up and want to cry, and I still have no word for the emotion it elicits from me.
To carry the name of your ancestors by choice is a big decision. One might be named after them at birth, but to choose a name once taken by a relative is quite significant. I’m at that point in my life where I plan to do this, but I’m yet to ask permission from my ancestors to do so. I feel it’s only right before taking their name as my own.
I still think on my maternal grandparents a lot. I do miss them greatly, and I still can’t shake the feeling that Grandad’s Welsh flag is meant for me. One day I’ll carry it for him in his honour.
Not a long post tonight, I know, but I needed to get these thoughts down before bed. They’ve waited a long time to be written.
Also, I’ll be writing up my thoughts on Dawkins’ little tirade against New Age stuff on Sunday. Won’t that be a laugh?