Wild Wisdom New Moon Practice
- Michelle MacEwan
- Oct 20
- 4 min read
Updated: Nov 5
Our Practice this Month is: Ancestral Traditions, Reverence, The Unknown
Our prayer is:
As I enter the unknown
I trust in the wisdom of now
And I open to receive
All that is good for me
My heart is free
Ancestral traditions remind us that we are part of nature.
They teach that all we have comes from Mother Earth — our food, our homes, the tools of our daily lives — and that we welcome the mystery through reverence and ceremony.
What we respect and revere, we protect and sustain.
What we love, we care for and defend.
When I reflect on the richness of ancestral traditions, I am in awe of their timelessness — the knowledge, beauty and vitality they hold, and how they bridge what has been with what is emerging.
The relationships I maintain with those I have known and loved who are no longer in this life reveal themselves in different ways. They are sources of inspiration and guidance, weaving through my stories, teaching and writing.
There is an old Irish saying that keeps me safe — Slí na Fírinne — the Way of Truth.
In old Irish, instead of saying someone has died, they would say Tá sí imithe ar Slí na Fírinne — She is gone on the Way of Truth, reflecting a shared sense of mystery — a realm beyond this one and the potential it holds. Whenever I face challenge — which inevitably leads to transformation — I remind myself:
I am on the Way of Truth
Anthropologist Wade Davis coined the term ethnosphere to describe ‘the sum total of all thoughts and dreams, myths and memories, inspirations and intuitions brought into being by the human imagination since the dawn of consciousness.’
Language is the container of this essence, and we are losing ancestral languages at an alarming rate. Stories are how knowledge is passed down through generations.
I have a treasured Dilly Bag — a weaving tradition handed down through generations — given to me by my sister Violet in Kakadu, NT. I was told the story of the nature spirits instructing humans to wash poison from the skins of cheeky yams by placing them in a dilly bag hung in the running water of a stream overnight.
The next day they are free of toxin and ready to prepare and eat. Sometimes these bags are made for teaching or ceremony, called bags of knowledge — representing how wisdom, culture and history are gathered, nurtured and shared.
Now more than ever, we are called to deepen our connection with those who have gone before us. The more we honour them, the more easily we can commune with them.
The Practice
This is a powerful time — tender and tumultuous.
Connecting with our ancestors, personal and collective, and practising reverence for them is deeply nourishing.
The foundations of our ancestors support us as we move through the great shifts occurring on our planet. The Way of Truth, for example, teaches us to trust as we enter the unknown — to deepen into our own wisdom, cultivate our inner compass, and navigate the shoreline of certainty and uncertainty.
Shrine
This month, let’s tend a shrine for Mother Earth and for those ancestors, personal and collective, whose footprints light our way into the unknown, cherishing those we are connected to — both through lineage and life experience.
A shrine is a space set aside for reverence; an altar rests within it.
Alternately, focus on creating a small ancestor altar.
I have a shrine under a favourite tree at home, and the beach across from my house is also a shrine — the altar is the sand, ever-changing with the tides, teaching me about certainty and uncertainty. Yours might be a small rug and shelf in a quiet corner. It doesn’t have to be elaborate.
Begin by reflecting on Mother Earth.
Bring something to your altar that represents your love and gratitude for her endless giving, her fierceness and the incredible environment she has evolved to sustain life.
Consider which ancestors of humanity you wish to include — teachers, cultures, or figures who have inspired your beliefs and way of life.
Now bring an ancestor of yours to mind. Even if you know little of your family history, you are connected — trust what arises — images, feelings, or sensations. Draw inspiration from these things.
I remember my grandmother’s roses and the way she spoke my name, my grandfather’s tomatoes, and the wild fennel he loved that grew in the back lane.
Most of all I recall their love of animals and how they looked after them – a love that took root so naturally in me it has become an essential expression of my life as an advocate for the wild and my work with wildlife.
What threads will you bring to your shrine?
I’ll be adding my dilly bag, photos, roses and fennel, and a brooch from my great, great Aunt Ginny, a woman of the sight.
I’ll light golden beeswax candles for them and burn sandalwood incense for a teacher who inspired me.
As I light them, I’ll say their names, and perhaps repeat the old words I hold dear.
You can be as creative as you like or keep it as simple as lighting a candle or incense and if you have a saying of theirs that you carry, use it as a mantra or write it down and include it - or speak spontaneously from your heart.
Visit with them each day.
As a special gift, I’d love to welcome you as my guest on our next Wild Membership call — normally reserved for paying members only.
