Re-membering

What an “accidental” trip to a cemetery taught me about experiencing more of the richness and fullness of life.

Hi beautiful being,

Have you ever been on a solo retreat or pilgrimage? Although I’ve read, and heard, great things about them; I honestly never felt drawn to do something like that. Fortunately, though, one of the requirements for my spiritual direction certification, is to take a two-night solitary retreat for silence and reflection.

After going, I am hooked!

Truth be told, it was one of those moving and magical experiences that will stick with me for the rest of my life.

What’s more, while I considered going somewhere that specializes in this sort of thing, all I ended up doing was renting a room at a bed and breakfast I could walk to from our villa in Nicolosi, Sicily. All it takes to reap the rewards of a retreat are a few simple “ingredients”:

Taking some dedicated time alone, with a commitment to setting aside space to reflect, as well as getting quiet on the inside.

Note: Whether you do this for two-minutes, two-hours, two-nights, two-weeks, or _____, it will benefit you. I find the getting quiet on the inside part is particularly powerful, as it allows me to more clearly hear the Spirit of Love’s wise, uplifting, and nourishing whispers.

Friend, you know how sometimes parents encourage their kids to run, jump, and play, so they can “get the wiggles out”? When it comes to quieting our minds, it turns out: Movement is an excellent way for humans of all ages, to shift their mental chatter from squiggly to smooth.

With that in mind, and no planned route or destination, I ventured forth from the bed and breakfast to go for a walk. Even though I didn’t know where I was going—or where the combination of reflection and inner-quiet would take me—I knew it was going to be a journey. Why? Intention and trust.

I intended for my retreat to be a time where Spirit and I “huddled up”, and trusted our time together would yield fruit. It was a bit like when I fly to Colorado to visit my bestie. While I’m never exactly sure what we’ll do, I know it’s going to be great.

So, on a pleasantly warm and sunny Sicilian day, I ventured forth …

About a kilometer into my little walkabout, I noticed a grand archway entrance to a walled off area of some sort, and was instantly drawn toward it. Even though it appeared to be directly down the road from me, the path to the arch—like my journey in life—was not straight. After swinging wide to the right to navigate the roundabout between us, I found myself facing a much smaller, more human-sized arched entry. This feels right, I thought. So, I walked through it … into a cemetery.

(I took all the pictures at the cemetery)

I was instantly struck by the sacredness of the space. Friend, you know how a “hush falls over the crowd” before important moments? It was like a reverent hush fell over my soul. As I wandered through the holy grounds, a few things stood out to me.

Half, or more, of the hundreds upon hundreds of tombs were marked by colorful, fresh flowers.

There was a subtle, but powerful, aliveness to the air.

Quite a few people appeared to be coming to visit their loved ones who rested there.

Most all of the grave markers were, without being overdone, ornately beautiful.

Many of them featured photos of the husband and wife (I honestly don’t recall seeing a grave that didn’t have a couple in it).

The birds were singing.

While the ground had a fair bit of ash on it (we live in the shadow of Mount Etna, so “ash”—which is more like sand—is a thing here), all of the tombs and markers were pristine.

As I made my pilgrimage through the grounds, I realized: This space is erupting with life. It is radiant with aliveness.

“Why is that?” I wondered, alongside its companion, “what is it about this place?” Unbidden it came to me, slipping in the back door of my mind. The revelation from the retreat sticking with me is: The potency and power of re-membering.

Dismembering, as we know but don’t like to think about, generally means ripping a physical body apart. A “member”, be it a finger, toe, arm, leg, etc., is severed from the greater whole. A painful, barbaric, disfiguring, and thankfully rare situation to be sure. But if we take this imagery a level deeper; we see how very normal and widespread it is for a part of a person to be “cut-off”—leaving them starved of their wholeness and fullness.

Re-membering, then, means to reintegrate something we lost, forgot, suppressed, neglected, etc. In so doing, whether it’s individually and/or collectively, we become more fully and richly alive.

By regularly paying their respects to their parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles, and so on; at the cemetery, the Sicilians are revisiting, remembering, and re-embodying the spirit of their ancestors. You see, as much as Americans (at least) like to view themselves as rugged individuals who forge our own destiny. The truth is, each of us is powerfully shaped by the experiences, spirits, and stories of our bloodlines.

The triumphs, tragedies, oppressions, sins, and blessings of a person’s life, echo on in their family for several generations after they take their last breath.

To the degree I forget or neglect this truth, I dismember myself—becoming a spiritual amputee. Yet, remembering my Aunt Kathleen, Gma, and other family members on the other side, reignites their courage, perseverance, commitment, and generosity that lives on in me. While also opening my eyes to their shadows and hurts I’ve inherited. Which, allows me to bring them forth into the Light of Love—wherein they heal. For me, and for generations to come.

As if this wasn’t a cool enough realization, there’s more! The practice of re-membering extends far beyond the spirits of our successors. It includes reintegrating aspects of yourself—be it a passion, characteristic, or hobby—that has been “put away” for whatever reason. I love music, but had lost that part of my life a decade or so ago. To heal from my second divorce, my therapist recommended I rekindle this part of myself. So, I started taking more time to enjoy music at home, and going to concerts again. Words cannot describe how healing and whole-making this has been!

Re-membering can also involve reconnecting, and sometimes reconciling, with people you’ve drifted away from. I also imagine this practice will sometimes involve letting something go that’s keeping a piece of you at a distance, so to speak. And that there are other areas it applies to as well. Really, the sky is the limit!

To re-member, individually and collectively, is to step into greater wholeness, fullness, and freedom.

What do you think friend? What did this stir up in you? I can’t wait to hear from you in the comments! And please “like” 🤍, and consider sharing/restacking this post if it spoke to you.

Hugs & Love,

Lang (aka “Dr. Love”)