A Reflection On Lineage, Gratitude, and the people whose lives & practice continue to support our own.
We often think of our lives as our own, individual story. But so much of who we are, what we believe, and what we’re able to imagine for ourselves has been shaped by the people who came before us. Some we knew well. Others we never met. Many will never have known the difference they made.
I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately, and a walk through one of my favorite places brought it home in an unexpected way.
I looked up during a walk with my dog River. And there she was.
The moon.
Pale against a brilliant blue October sky, as if she'd wandered into the wrong part of the day.
I always get a little thrill when I spot the moon in daylight. There's something almost secret about it, even though there's nothing secret about it at all. Of course, she's in the daytime sky almost as often as at night. She's there more than we realize, even when conditions keep us from seeing her.
I stood there for a moment, taking her in.
River was busy doing what River does on our walks, scanning the trees for squirrels one minute, nose to the ground investigating the latest developments in the world of smells the next.
Around us, the maples were burning red and orange, the oaks had turned a deep, rusty bronze, and dry leaves crunched beneath my feet.
We were walking through Oakwood Cemetery, one of my favorite places here in Troy, NY. My mother-in-law, Basia, is buried there, which is part of why River and I return every week. But it's also a place of extraordinary beauty. You can get lost among the winding paths and old trees. And you can be delighted by the ponds and waterfalls around every bend.
Lately, the moon has been hanging above the autumn trees. On our last walk I found myself thinking about all the people beneath my feet.
All those lives. All those stories.
People who fell in love, raised children, lost people they loved, tended gardens, worried about money, made plans for the future. People who lived their dreams, and those who didn't. People whose names I might never know, but whose lives helped shape the world I inherited.
And I felt something I hadn't expected.
I didn't feel sad.
I felt awe.
I felt gratitude.
I felt so much love.
A deep, almost physical sense of connection. Of being surrounded by lives that had come before mine. And somehow feeling that I am still being supported by them.
The Generations That Make Our Lives Possible.
I recognized the feeling from my time at a Zen temple.
Every morning, we chanted the lineage, naming the teachers who had come before us, all the way back to the Buddha.
At first, I got lost in the rhythm of the chant, saying the names without really feeling connected to the people behind them. But over time, something shifted.
I began to feel the support of generations of dedicated practice. And I began to feel the humanness of it all. These were people, too. Each doing their best to find their way.
They had made my own practice possible.
When I sat on my cushion, I wasn't just a person sitting alone in a room. I was part of something that had begun long before me and would continue long after me.
Standing in Oakwood, I felt that same connection again.
The people buried in the Earth and the names I’d chanted were connected in my mind by the same realization: my life, and the things I value most, didn’t begin with me.
The People Who Shape Us, Even When They’re Gone
And I thought about how rarely we stop to consider the people whose lives made our own possible
I'm not only talking about ancestors, though I was certainly thinking about them that afternoon.
I'm thinking about the teacher who saw something in you before you could see it yourself. The friend who stayed when things got difficult. The person who told you the raw truth when you needed to hear it, or offered you a kindness that changed the direction of your life.
Some of these people are still here. Some are gone. Many will never know what they gave us.
But we carry them.
For me, that list includes Moshe Feldenkrais. His talks about living our unavowed dreams first drew me to his work nearly thirty years ago. I never met him, but his ideas continue to shape how I move, how I teach, and how I live my dreams.
His influence is woven into the work I do today, and even into the story of how Conscious Movements began.
This time of year makes the remembering a little easier. Samhain, All Saints’ Day, All Souls’ Day, and Día de los Muertos all gather around the turn in November. Many traditions ask us to turn our attention toward the dead, and toward the thin boundary between the visible and invisible worlds.
You don’t need to belong to any of them to feel the pull.
Our ancestors are an ever widening circle of hope.
—Toni Morrison
How Do My Ancestors Connect To My Dreams?
The dream you’re working toward, the life you’re building, and the person you’re still becoming are all rooted in the ground that others helped prepare.
I wonder what might change if we remembered, a little more often, that we didn’t get here entirely on our own.
You get to do something new with what you’ve been given. You get to carry the good forward and make different choices where you need to. You get to add your own life to the long story of people making a way for those who come next.
That afternoon, the daytime moon felt like a small bit of the whole being illuminated. Something present, even when unseen. Something we can suddenly recognize if we simply pause.
And perhaps that’s part of what remembering does. It helps us recognize the lives and influences that are still present within us, even when we can’t see them.
That feels like a beautiful thing to remember this time of year.
A Simple Practice for Remembering Those Who Came Before Us
So here's my invitation for this week.
Take a walk and look for the daytime moon.
Depending on where she is in her cycle, you might see her in the morning or afternoon sky.
When you find her, think of someone whose life helped make yours possible. Someone who gave you something you still carry.
Pause and thank them, out loud or in your heart.
And if the clouds hide the moon, do it anyway.
I invite you to consider:
Who are the people whose lives and presence continue to support you?
Key Takeaways:
Our lives are shaped by people we’ll never fully know. Family members, teachers, friends, and generations of people before us have helped create the world and opportunities we inherit.
The influence of someone doesn’t end when they are gone. Their love, wisdom, ideas, and dedication can continue to shape how we live long after they’ve left this Earth.
Remembering can deepen our sense of support, connection, and gratitude. Taking time to recognize the people who helped shape us can remind us that we’re part of a much bigger story.
We have a role in carrying that legacy forward. We can honor what we’ve received while deciding what we want to pass along to those who come after us.
Frequently Asked Questions About Honoring Those Who Came Before Us
Why is remembering our ancestors and those who came before us important?
Remembering those who came before us can deepen our sense of belonging and connection. It reminds us that our lives are shaped by generations of people, including family members, teachers, friends, and others whose influence we’re not even aware of.
How can I feel more connected to people who have passed away?
You might begin by remembering the stories they told, the lessons they shared, or the ways they influenced your life. Simple practices such as lighting a candle, visiting a meaningful place, expressing gratitude, or reflecting on their lives can help you feel connected to their continuing influence.
What does it mean to honor the legacy of someone who has influenced your life?
Honoring someone’s legacy can mean remembering them, sharing their stories, and carrying forward the qualities or values you appreciated in them. It can also mean passing their gifts along to others, allowing their influence to reach people they have never known.
