Sometimes the voices of my ancestors whisper loudly in my ear. And sometimes those "whisperings" become a mini-battle fought in the deep caverns of my soul.
What? You have no idea what I am talking about? Let me explain...
We are all products of who we come from. For good, or ill, those who made us, also dwell within us. Not in some weird, creepy, unearthly way -- but in the very essence of who we are. You can run from your past, you can change every aspect of your life, you can leave your family, but you CANNOT run from your heritage. It will never change. Those who brought you into this world are two halves of your whole. For better, or for worse.
Of course you can defy your ancestors habits, and rebuke the very fibers of your body and soul, and change your life for the better -- if that is necessary. You always have a choice about what you will do, and who you will become.
But there is something very deep when it comes to being who you are, in your most basic form, as a person. There is something very strong that connects the generations to each other, be it blood, habits, addictions, cells, etc. Deny your ancestors all you want -- they are still a part of you. They made you. Run from it, hide from it, or learn from it.
I try to learn from it.
For me, I have come to understand myself better by understanding my two grandmothers. And it is, I believe, their "voices" that play within my head. It is not a battle between "good" and "evil". It is a battle between how I see the world, and how I react to it -- with a little bit of two very different views that are somehow trapped within my own mind.
Let me explain some more...
My grandma on my father's side, Nadine Kippen Lindquist, was a very interesting lady. I have come to know her better from reading through many of her papers, letters, yearbooks, etc. I know her far better now, than I ever did while she was living. She was a strong woman, who lived in her house on the Avenues of Salt Lake City, until the day she died, in her home. She would not leave her home. She was 93 when she passed away, and lived alone. She was very interested in the lives of others, and she loved to talk about things, she liked details. But her forte was not in her manner with people. She was a very critical thinker, and that translated into often being critical of others. She had a hard time with giving compliments, but I think that is because she received very few in her younger years. Her sister was known as "the pretty one" and that hurt her, I believe. Her mother passed down the critical thinking to her. She had a hard life, and the hardness of her life showed through in the downward direction of the lines on her aged face. She experienced a lot of pain, and sorrow, and she handled it in her own way. She preferred to experience sorrow alone, I think. I do not recall ever seeing her cry. I consider her a tough-cookie. She must have been to survive all that time alone. I do have a special fondness for her, though, as she likes to haunt my dreams, and it was her work during her lifetime that inspired me to get into family history work. She may not be remembered by many as such, but I know she was a great woman -- in her own mysterious way. I feel she is laughing now, in Heaven. And finally happy to have her questions answered.
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| Nadine |
My other grandma on my mother's side, Sara Cram Post (Nan), is a completely different story. Nan is sunshine. She is joy. She is love. She has had her share of hard-knocks, but she has never let life get her down. She does not just endure, she enjoys. She has dealt with severe loss, and pain, and trials enough to make you cry -- but she has defied it all, and chosen happiness. Her mother was the same as her -- cheerful despite hardships. In her mothers last days, dying of cancer, her jaw bone was exposed, but she was still more concern about the well-being of the nurses that tended to her, and she was still kind and loving, and everything good. It is just their way. The way of goodness and love. And if you ever want to meet the most pleasant person in all the world. . . I know where she lives. She is my Nan. I love my Nan. And my own mother is following in her footsteps.
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| Sara |
I find that I have a little bit of both of them, in me. I have a little bit of Grandma Nadine, and a little bit of Nan. As I come to know and understand them better, I come to know and understand me better. And isn't that what everyone wants?
Isn't it the latest craze to go on a journey of "self-discovery"? People nowadays just want to "find out who they are" or "be themselves". (Too bad they are going about it completely the wrong way!)
If you want to know who you are, you need not look in front of you, you have to look behind you.
You know, kind of like Superman needed to discover who and where he really came from, before he could understand how to properly, and fully, use his superpowers. He needed to learn and understand from those who came before him. He needed to know who his super-daddy was. We all need to know who our Father is, and where we came from -- both our Heavenly heritage, and our earthly heritage. It is the key to fully unveiling your deeply-embed superpowers.
If you know who you come from, you know who you are -- and that is POWER.
Collectively people spend billions of dollars trying to find out who they are, when all they need to do is find out where they came from (for free!).
We make a great effort in the study of our Heavenly Father, and we need to study our Earthly fathers (and mothers) as well. Within that study comes great strength. The only way to understand that power is to unveil it yourself. No one else can do it for you. Maybe you don't care right now, but you should. Maybe you prefer to not look back, and only look forward -- but that is a mistake. A big mistake. If we cannot learn from our history, than we are nothing. And let me tell you, though it takes a little effort, it is so worth it.
On that note . . .
So, in my studies, I have come to terms with the fact that, as much as I want to be -- I am not all Nan. (Sunshine, roses, joy, everything lovely, and goodness.) There are other forces inside of me that exist because I am from another line of people, people that did things in a little "different" way. And I am coming to terms with that. I am from a line of "critical thinkers" and that part of me is just as strong as the "sunshine and roses" part of me. Actually, I think the "critical thinker" side of me often puts dark clouds in front of my sunshine, and sees the thorns on my roses. It is not like I do it on purpose . . . my brain, it just goes there.
I suppose if you want to slap labels on people, then I would not consider myself a true "optimist" (like my sweet mothers line of ancestry). Nor would I call myself a "pessimist". Rather, I think of myself as a "realist". Which by definition is: The attitude or practice of accepting a situation as it is and being prepared to deal with it accordingly.
For example, I remember talking to a sister once about childbirth. She was going to play beautiful music in the hospital room, to welcome the baby into the world, and create an optimum, glorious, moment. I recall trying not to let out an obnoxious laugh, and I told her something like, "Good luck with that, when it comes down to it you just push your guts out, and nothing else matters." I wasn't trying to dash her perfect-birth-image moment, I was just trying to be helpful by being realistic. You know, no nonsense. Just fact.
Being "realistic" is not always a bad thing, but it is not always the best thing, either. But someone has got to be the "Roy Disney" and keep Walt's dreams in check, right? Just call me Roy.
Though sometimes I think it would be nice to be Walt and just dream without reality . . . *Sigh*
My point (if I even have a point, at this point?) is this: The "voices in my head" are those of my ancestors. Sometimes I face a battle between viewing life as "rosy" or "thorny". On my journey of "self-discovery" via Family History, I have come to understand that I see the whole rose -- from soft velvety petals, to sharp menacing thorns. I have taken from both lines of my lineage, and become a "critically joyful person", named Mari.
And in all aspects of my life, I am coming to understand that it is OK to view the world this way. It is my way. If it were bad, I would fight against it -- but since it is not an evil to see things as they are, I suppose I will allow myself to be a realist. I am happy here in my realistic world.
I am me. Partly sunny, or partly cloudy. Depending on your view, that is.
But that is up to you to determine!
So, how do you see the world around you? What voices are in your head?
I really want to know!
