The art of writing is the art of discovering what you believe. Gustave Flaubert
I thought the cemetery renovation (see previous blog entry) was interrupting the writing, but today I learned that it’s part of my process of sifting through my past and putting it all to right. I’m putting up new granite markers in the cemetery, building a new fence (coping) around the twelve sites, and turning over the sod of the family plot, as I turn over – and sift through – the stories of my life, making everything right and making sense of it all.
I wanted to know more about my paternal grandfather, George Edward Hamilton, and why I’d been avoiding his life in all my research – even forgetting to ask Joyce Day Meuse to do an astrological chart for him while she was charting my other ancestors.
Marilet sat quietly with her eyes closed; I repeated his name three times; and she called Hamilton to her. He was contrite, claimed he had been misunderstood, that there were other, unknown factors. He didn’t understand why he had done such evil things and often had to flee from the family to release inner anguish. I had been told he was so mean that, when he died, everyone said, “Thank God he’s gone!”
She sensed a grayish shape hovering in his background, some ‘thing,’ attempting to shield itself from her. Pressing on with her inquiry she identified it as an ENTITY (don’t you just love that word!).
It seems that centuries ago—and in more savage times—a Hamilton woman cried out, “Is anyone listening out there? All my men have gone off to fight and I have a dreadful fear for their lives. If they don’t return, we are all certain to perish. Please help me!” She then, in essence, made a pact with the ‘Devil’—the entity nearby that was the first to respond to her plea—to trade safety for her men and, in return, to grant power to this entity over Hamilton descendents for generations. This wife sensed the entity was from the ‘dark side’ but also knew she had to secure the safety of the men. And if this woman had not made the pact, the line would have been wiped out, and I would never have been born.
We identified instances in my life where I felt utterly powerless and had wondered why. Other family members suffered much worse: suicides of an aunt, sister, and niece; the early death of a brother who also was named George Edward Hamilton; my father, who never felt he had a chance in life; and my misunderstood grandfather. All the result of a pact made by a frightened wife and mother long, long ago?
I enjoy incorporating information like this into the stories I tell about my life. I mean, we are making it all up, aren’t we? With the continual loving support and illumination of God/Goddess/Source Energy.
You can find out what happens to the mean old thing by reading my book… release date on Grandson Zack’s 16th birthday, August 24, 2015.
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