Hands That Once Held Stones

Generational trauma is a term that’s been tossed around a lot. I mean, we always had feuds between generations, but I have a feeling that back in the day we respected the elders. Now, there are no elders as anyone who’s above [what seems like] 22 is deemed old.

Now, I probably could be the first one to blame my parents for how things were but, after 20 years of doing so, I concluded that it is beyond fruitless. Being mad at my parents, continuously, and living in the space of victimhood got me nowhere. I was just rehashing my old wounds and Martyrdom gives one no reason to grow up. And I had plenty to be mad at. Starting with how they left me, on multiply occasions, crying myself to sleep, and quipped TO ME about it later.

I grew up believing that that was a normal parental behaviour; in fact I blamed myself for being a such a cry-baby. The truth is, my parents believed that this style of parenting was normal, because these were different times and that was indeed the norm.

If I cannot be mature enough to realise that the world was different back then and they didn’t know any better, how can I blame them?

The ability to forgive our parents demands growing up. And oh God, how hard that is. I didn’t want to grow up for years. I wanted to be this crying baby because I believed that one day someone will come to save me and not let me cry myself to sleep. Well, after 20 years of expecting a miracle, I got tired of waiting.

All the things that have been said and done, cannot be undone. And the apology is not coming. In fact, at this point it is not needed. Because instead of waiting for a saviour, I realised that I AM this saviour. I gave myself the grace of forgiveness. I forgave my parents for not being perfect as I realised that they were hurt too. They also had their generational trauma. As the quote from John 8:7 goes: “He who is without sin, let him cast the first stone.”

So, one day I sat with my mother, even though she was on the other side, but somehow right next to me, and we wept together. I wept for all the injustices that happened to her, and there were plenty. And she wept for the hardship that she so gladly passed onto me. Because only hurt people hurt people.

And in that get together we wept for all the generational trauma. And we realised how much we loved each other, and we still do. It was just not meant to be on this physical plane, in this particular lifetime.

And I looked at my hands, with those long pianist fingers (my grandmother’s words), just like my mother’s. I saw that they contained the DNA of all the women who came before me.

And I noticed how my hands were holding a stone, oh-so-tightly. A big rock ready to throw.

But then the love of my mother released my grip and freed my hand. I dropped the stone. I let it go.

I can now do something with my hands, something beautiful, creative and useful. I’m no longer shackled by the past. I’m free to move on with my life, to grow. And make use of these hands, the hands that carry the DNA of my mother, grandmother and all the women who came before me, and fought and struggled and loved, so that I could live.

I no longer want to hold on to my stone.

They say, that on a spiritual level, all the hardship is not a punishment but a lesson. So, I thanked my mother for all the lessons that she gave me.

But I also thanked myself for finally growing up and not living every single moment of my life through the prism of the past. And I promise you, if you look at your life, the trauma (be it with a small or capital T) creates a pattern. When you zoom out and look at yourself, you see patterns. Like you are running a program. And you don’t even know this.

After over a decade of studying perennial philosophy, only now I’m starting to understand the words of Ram Dass:

It turns out the game is very simple. It’s purification, meaning letting go of attachments [rocks] and negativity [victimhood]. It’s opening your heart [e.g. speaking to my mother on another plane].

It’s developing the capacity to work with more and more energy.

But there is a lot of work of quietening the mind [if the mind is restless, we’ll never be able to pass through the veil and into the space of the heart which is a doorway to other dimensions].

And the biggest part of this game is letting go of your unworthiness [me feeling unworthy of my parents’ love]. 

So instead of saying: I am worthy of love, I’m going to say: I am love. And my hands are free to give it.