avatarAllisonn Church

Summary

The author reflects on their connection with their late grandfather, an artist and teacher, through shared personality traits, cultural heritage, and spiritual meditation, finding comfort in sensing his spirit during the winter season.

Abstract

The article titled "Winter Trees in the Western Sky" delves into the author's personal experience of staying connected with their late grandfather. Despite his reserved nature, the author felt a profound bond with him, particularly in their mutual introversion and artistic inclinations. The grandfather, an avid painter and instructor, left a lasting impact on the author's life. The author, who grew up surrounded by Irish-American culture, deepened their Celtic roots by joining the Order of Bards, Ovates, and Druids and studying ancient druidic traditions. Through daily meditations from "The Celtic Spirit," the author found a spiritual home facing northwest, reminiscent of the grandfather's artwork. The author experiences a vivid sense of the grandfather's spirit during meditation, especially around the holidays and the anniversary of his death, despite his physical absence due to dementia and eventual passing. The author embraces these spiritual encounters without needing logical explanations, quoting Voltaire on the nature of faith beyond reason.

Opinions

  • The author values the emotional and spiritual connection with their grandfather, which transcends the physical realm.
  • Art and the act of noticing beauty in the world, as taught by the grandfather, are seen as important legacies.
  • The author's Celtic heritage plays a significant role in their life and spiritual practices.
  • The concept of a "true north" or spiritual home is meaningful to the author and is associated with the grandfather's influence.
  • The author believes in the reality of their encounters with the grandfather's spirit during meditation, dismissing the need for rational understanding.
  • The author acknowledges the difficulty of their grandfather's struggle with dementia but finds solace in remembering him as he was before the illness.
  • The author's reflections suggest a deep appreciation for the intangible aspects of life and the continuity of spiritual connections with deceased loved ones.

Winter Trees in the Western Sky

Staying connected with my late grandfather

My grandfather, oil on canvas (Author’s photo and artwork)

After my grandfather passed away nine years ago, my family chose to display this painting of him at his funeral. He was an avid painter and painting teacher who taught me, my sister, and probably several of our cousins not only how to create art, but also how to notice it in the world. Perpetually ready for a mini-lesson on light and shadow, he kept a small notebook and pencil in his shirt pocket at all times.

We were close and we weren’t. I grew up next door to my grandparents and so I saw one or both of them in some capacity most days of my life. But my grandfather wasn’t really someone you “get close to” in an emotional way. He could certainly be outspoken and was often quite funny, but generally speaking he was a reserved, distant man. We are so alike in this respect, I find myself feeling connected to him even (or perhaps especially) through our shared detachment.

Both of my paternal grandparents were Irish-American. I was surrounded by this side of my family throughout my formative years — listening to my grandmother repeat her father’s most-used phrases in his Irish brogue, watching sunlight dance through the green glass of the shamrock in her kitchen window, admiring the faded old photograph of her family home in Leitrim that hung on the wood-paneled wall. As an adult, I sought to connect more deeply to my Celtic roots and so joined the Order of Bards, Ovates, and Druids and began to study ancient Celtic druidic tradition. In this time, my husband gifted me a book called The Celtic Spirit by Caitlín Matthews.

The Celtic Spirit contains daily meditations inspired by pagan Celtic history and custom. One such meditation (which appears on December 13th) asks the reader and practitioner to find their “true north,” or spiritual home. Following the steps, I found myself facing northwest. With my eyes closed, I pictured a landscape of fading blue hills behind a stand of bare, brown trees, the hint of winter in the air. It looked just like one of my grandfather’s paintings. Without making explicit, logical sense of it, I simply thought, “in some way, my grandfather is my true north.” It made heart sense, which was the only sort of sense I was using at the moment.

December carried on and I passed the time in my usual ways, which typically includes some type of meditation. On the day before Christmas Eve, I had just finished a yoga practice and was listening to some grounding music when I had the urge to close my eyes and speak directly to my grandfather. Immediately, I could see and hear and feel his presence in an internal way. I was glad to connect with him during the holiday season and felt that we had an entire conversation about it, as I thanked him for staying with me and wished him and my grandmother a joyful holiday in the Otherworld.

You may find this sort of thing silly or even a bit deranged, but it wasn’t the first time I’ve encountered a vivid sense of my grandfather’s spirit while in silent meditation. For better or worse, I often find him within or around me in some way — a sense, an image, a memory, a voice in my head. To me, it seems very real.

At the time of writing, it is December 28th, the anniversary of my grandfather’s death. Truthfully, he wasn’t himself for quite awhile before he passed on: he struggled with dementia during a difficult period of decline. Now that he is beyond the physical world, I see him clearly again.

I don’t pretend to know what any of it means; I don’t really want or need to.

“Faith consists in believing when it is beyond the power of reason to believe.” — Voltaire

Faith
Family
Life
Meditiation
Death
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