Ancestral Healing: Healing the Past, Embracing the Future

Reflections on 16 days of ancestral meditation in the Indian Himalayas

I suppose I was always a little cynical about ancestral healing. It sounded like another New Age, hippy sort of thing.

But I think I might now be a convert!

Just over two weeks ago, I joined an online satsang and meditation session with Dr Yogrishi Vishvketu Ji from the wonderful Anand Prakash Ashram in Rishikesh. It was a deeply inspiring session, and afterwards I decided to commit to 16 days of ancestral healing through a daily meditation practice.

This coincided with Pitru Paksha, a sacred period in the Hindu calendar dedicated to remembering, honouring and offering gratitude to our ancestors. In the Hindu tradition, this is a time when families perform prayers and rituals, known as Shraddha and Tarpan, to honour departed loved ones and support the peace of their souls.

There is also a beautiful idea within ancestral healing that the work we do on ourselves can reach far beyond our own lives. Some spiritual teachings speak of healing seven, eleven or even more generations of our family lineage, both backwards and forwards. Whether we take this literally or symbolically, I find the idea quite profound. That by recognising and beginning to heal the pain, fears and patterns we have inherited, we might also help prevent them from being passed on to future generations.

We are not just individuals. We are the continuation of those who came before us.

Sixteen days of practice in the Himalayas

I was travelling through Himachal Pradesh in northern India during this period, so maintaining a daily practice required a little discipline — or Tapas, as we call it in yoga — and concentration, Dharana.

I knew my personal time would be limited, so rather than setting myself some wildly ambitious goal, I simply committed to meditating for 10–20 minutes every morning, using a guided meditation to connect with my ancestors. I found a particularly helpful meditation on the Plum Village app, which I'd be very happy to share if anyone would like to message me.

And then a few interesting things started to happen.

The grief we carry

Firstly, I found the experience deeply emotional.

During many of the meditations, I would find myself crying, sometimes without really understanding why.

Both my parents died relatively young, aged just 51 and 61. The grief of losing them so early has shaped my life and, I realise now, many of the decisions I've made.

I know that my current life — travelling, teaching yoga, leading retreats and living with perhaps a little less financial security than might be sensible — is partly influenced by their deaths.

I watched my parents work hard, saving the things they wanted to do until retirement. But they never really got the chance to enjoy that retirement. And somewhere along the way, I made a decision that I wasn't going to wait until I retired to live my life. Of course, that comes with its own challenges and anxieties. But I think losing my parents so young gave me a very real understanding that none of us knows how much time we have.

My grandfather, my first spiritual teacher

Secondly, I felt an even stronger connection with my maternal grandfather.

My grandfather was, in many ways, my first spiritual teacher. He had a deep Christian faith and was a lifelong pacifist. During the Second World War, he was imprisoned as a conscientious objector because he refused to compromise his belief in non-violence. Interestingly, he was also a great admirer of Mahatma Gandhi and his philosophy of Ahimsa, or non-violence, which played such an important role in India's struggle for independence.

I often think about the connection between my grandfather's beliefs and the spiritual path I find myself following today.

Over the past few years, when I've visited places that have touched me deeply on a spiritual level — Tiger's Nest Monastery in Bhutan, and most recently the extraordinary monasteries of Spiti Valley in the Indian Himalayas — I have felt his presence incredibly strongly. He died in 1994, more than 30 years ago.

I wish so much that he were still alive, that I could sit with him and tell him about my travels, my experiences and the spiritual journey I've been on. I think he would have understood. But although he is no longer physically here, I feel his presence so clearly at times. And during these meditations, that connection felt stronger than ever.

The questions we never asked

Thirdly, something rather unexpected came up about my mother.

Like most children, I suppose I never really saw my parents as anything other than Mum and Dad.

They were simply my parents.

But during one meditation, I was asked to reflect on my mother's dreams.

What had she wanted from her life? What were her hopes and ambitions? Had she fulfilled them?

And I realised something rather sad.

I have absolutely no idea.

I knew her as my mother, but how well did I really know her as a woman, with her own dreams, disappointments, fears and desires?

It's now 25 years since she died, and suddenly I found myself with so many questions I wish I could ask her.

Perhaps one of the gifts of ancestral healing is that it encourages us to see our parents and grandparents not simply through the roles they played in our lives, but as human beings with their own stories.

Stories that began long before we arrived.

Forgiveness and understanding

Fourthly, my relationship with my father came into focus.

We had a loving but sometimes complex relationship, and without going into too much personal detail, some of those experiences resurfaced during the meditations.

I continue to work on forgiveness and understanding. Not necessarily excusing everything that happened, but perhaps recognising that he, too, was shaped by his upbringing, his experiences and the generation into which he was born.

I also found myself wondering what he would make of my life today. I can practically hear him telling me off for not having enough savings and not paying into my pension! And perhaps he would have a point!!

But I hope he would also be proud that I've had the courage to follow a different path.

Breaking the patterns

Finally, I began reflecting on the patterns we inherit from our families.

I can recognise how some of my own anxieties and fears were learned from my mother, while certain expressions of anger came from my father. These patterns can be passed down without anyone consciously choosing them. Our parents were influenced by their parents, who were influenced by theirs, and so on.

We inherit so much more than our physical characteristics.

We can inherit beliefs about money, security, relationships, love, anger, fear and even what it means to be happy. And sometimes we carry those beliefs for years without ever questioning whether they truly belong to us. This is where the idea of ancestral healing becomes particularly meaningful to me.

We cannot change what happened to previous generations. We cannot undo their suffering or rewrite their stories.

But perhaps we can begin to recognise the patterns we've inherited, understand them with greater compassion and consciously choose which ones we want to carry forward.

In doing so, we may change something for the generations that follow.

Moving forward with the love of my ancestors

So, 16 days later, what has changed?

I can't claim to have magically healed eleven generations of family trauma!

But I can honestly say that I feel lighter.

There has been a release of emotion, a greater sense of understanding and, perhaps most importantly, a growing feeling of compassion for those who came before me.

I feel more connected to my parents and grandparents, not just through memories but through an appreciation of the lives they lived, the difficulties they faced and the love they passed on, sometimes imperfectly.

My own life is at something of a crossroads at the moment.

There are decisions to make, uncertainties to navigate and, as always, that delicate balance between following my heart and being sensible!

But something feels different.

I feel the love of my ancestors behind me.

Not because they were perfect. They carried their own fears, shame, anger, disappointments and struggles, just as we all do. But I feel them cheering me on as I move towards the next chapter of my life.

And perhaps that's what ancestral healing means to me now.

Not erasing the past, but making peace with it. Not carrying every burden that was handed down to us, but recognising that we have a choice about what we take forward.

Honouring those who came before us, while giving ourselves permission to live differently.

And maybe, just maybe, that's how healing begins.

If you're curious about ancestral healing, I'd encourage you to explore it with an open mind and a little compassion for yourself. You don't need hours of meditation or elaborate rituals. Sometimes simply sitting quietly, remembering those who came before us and acknowledging their stories can be a powerful place to begin.

If you'd like the guided meditation I used during my 16-day practice, please feel free to get in touch. I'd be delighted to share it.

With love and gratitude to all those who walked before us.

Picture above taken on my graduation day in 1994!