Let the Tears of the Fathers Be Shed by the Daughters

On a warm summer morning recently, I walked a labyrinth with my father, his father, and his father's father. I am alive. They are not. My father died in 1994, Grandpa Menzies in 1965 and my great grandfather in 1947, the year before I was born . But they were unquestionably there and this is their story as much as it is mine.

Back in July, I was on a weekend retreat, “Sea & Sky & Soul: A Kundalini Yoga and Meditation Retreat” led by my amazing friend Diane Bunting (Shamsher http://yoga-with-shamsher.com/ ) in nearby Gig Harbor, WA. We gathered at a delightful gem of a B&B, No Cabbages (http://nocabbages.com/ ), and then journeyed from there to several spots in the woods and near water to practice meditations and mantras. Each day began with a hour of Kundalini yoga. But that is for another story. This one had roots much farther back.


When a relationship ended a few months ago, it triggered in me some deep wounds that had never healed. It was time to finally face those emotions and free myself from the pain I'd carried all my life. (That story is told in my previous blog “May Joy Never Leave You.”)

I knew that if I wanted to break my pattern of failed relationships, it was time to heal the one with the first "man in my life" - my father. One step in that healing took place a few weeks earlier when I did a sweat lodge on Bainbridge Island. At the beginning of the lodge, I invited my father's spirit to join me so that his pain could also be transformed by the work that I would do that day. “Together,” we worked on forgiveness and letting go of the story that had held me captive for so long. My heart began to soften towards him and also myself. It was a step but I knew there would be more to this journey! The “more” showed up on the meditation retreat!

As we sat around the breakfast table at No Cabbages Saturday morning, one of the women asked about the labyrinth that Jamee and Dal had built in their woods. She had never walked a labyrinth and wanted to know what it meant. Many of us had walked them in the past and several women shared their stories. I had chosen that morning after yoga and our morning meditation to maintain silence so I sat quietly listening as the others spoke of their experiences. At one point, Jamee told us that many visitors to the B&B were very drawn to the labyrinth and that they had even held children's birthday parties there. The guests would walk into the center of the labyrinth where the birthday child would be waiting. Each person would light a candle and tell the honoree how they loved her or him. Jamee spoke of watching fathers doing this and being visibly moved by the experience.

At that point, I was overwhelmed by grief and had to leave the table. I knew what my next step would have to be.  I headed for the clearing in the grove of trees which held the labyrinth. On the path, there is a threshold with the word “Surrender” carved into it. As I stepped over that board, I agreed to do just that!

On reaching the entrance to the labyrinth, I paused to remove my shoes and then quietly called to my father inviting him to walk this path with me. Then I stepped into the spiral and, with tears already streaming down my face, fell off the edge of the world. As my bare feet sought out the path under the lush foliage, I thought of the kinship I feel in these forests. One of the early European naturalists to visit these lands was Archibald Menzies and some of our common native plants bear his name. Here in the clearing were Douglas fir (Pseudotsuga menziesii) standing watch over me and the piggy-back plant (Tolmiea menziesii) brushing my feet as I passed by. I felt that my Menzies ancestors were present in these green beings! It warmed my heart even as I wept.

Then, as I stumbled along the narrow pathway, I suddenly bent over under an overwhelming burden of sorrow. My tears became deep, wracking sobs as waves of anguish broke over me. I was struck by the absolute certainty that I was not alone. Nor was I walking solely with my father. I knew on a cellular level that he had called in HIS father to walk with us! And my grandfather had, in turn, called his OWN father, the great grandfather I had never known, to come along!   I had invited my father to lay down the pain he had carried while living his life with an armored heart, and to finally open, even now many years after his death, to loving and being loved by me. As I felt him answer that call and begin the journey, these other Menzies men who had carried the same burden slipped through the crack between the worlds and brought with them the grief they had stoically carried all their lives.

For a few moments, I literally could not move as my body shook and I wailed from the pain. As the pressure eased a bit, I resumed my halting steps dumping our combined sorrows into the bosom of the earth. I had learned years ago that the earth can handle all our emotional energy, transforming that into lush “compost” and returning it cleansed of toxins to nourish us and all beings. I surrendered myself into Her loving arms and made my way into the center, the deep womb of the labyrinth.

But there was one more challenge to face! As I turned the last corner and approached the center altar with its smooth paving stones, I saw a carved threshold sign which read “Gratitude.” Again, I was overcome with pain as I heard the voices of these men whose legacy I carried cry out that they did not deserve to go any further! They were paralyzed! How could they be grateful? How could they accept MY gratitude after all the anger and fear and grief they had passed down to me? In the face of that pain, my heart melted with compassion. I knew they had done their best. That they had loved their children the way they had been taught by their fathers AND their mothers. With the courage of that deep knowing, I stepped across into the center and, after circling the altar, I lay down on the cool stones and rested.

After a while, my tears having stopped, I stood up and approached the altar. I picked up a small candle, lit it from the pillar candle burning in the center, and began to tell my father the ways that I loved him and the gratitude I had for the many gifts he had given me throughout the half century plus when we had both walked this earth. He was my first guide to a deep love of the natural world and that laid the foundation of my life's journey. I literally grew up following him through his garden until he finally marked out a plot for me to cultivate! There was much more that I shared with him in that hushed glade that morning in July, and it felt so liberating to speak loving words and feel that they were heard. A deep healing had begun.

But now it was time to say goodbye and travel the path back out from the sheltering womb and rejoin the outside world. My steps were more solid and sure as I traced in reverse the path we had walked what seemed like ages ago. I knew that the energetic blocks that had been stored for so long in painful knots and tender places in my body were starting to unwind and dissolve. It was far from completed but at least the healing had begun. I prayed that we would all rest a bit easier having shared this walk in the forest.

As I look back on that day, I am grateful for the blessing of shedding the tears of my male ancestors along with my own. Together we brought back to life a bit more of the Sacred Masculine. As I work to bring balance back into the my world, the Sacred Feminine in me delights in this healing. And I hope that this story may bring joy to your life and that you find peace with all your relations.