In your name, the family name is at last because it's the family name that lasts.
After all, what is every man? A horde of ghosts – like a Chinese nest of boxes – oaks that were acorns that were oaks. Death lies behind us, not in front – in our ancestors, back and back until...
When I reflect on the legacies left behind from my childhood, I am indebted to acknowledge the role my mother, grandmother, and godmothers played in my spiritual formation and personal development.
Individually, every grain of sand brushing against my hands represents a story, an experience, and a block for me to build upon for the next generation.
Our names were made for us in another century.
We all grow up with the weight of history on us. Our ancestors dwell in the attics of our brains as they do in the spiraling chains of knowledge hidden in every cell of our bodies.
When we illuminate the road back to our ancestors, they have a way of reaching out, of manifesting themselves...sometimes even physically.
My genetics have been in my family for generations.
People like to trace their ancestry.