This wounding you’re carrying is old. Very old. And it’s not just yours, it’s ancestral. I was thinking yesterday about my own inability to keep weight off–it’s a thing for me that I’m dealing with right now after a recent loss and regain of a big chunk of weight. Last night at the gym I remembered that my father struggled with his weight too, and with addictions and a variety of self-destructive behaviors that I seem to have inherited. So (of course) today’s draw is all about this: ancestral wounding that we are each working out in our own lives, not only for ourselves but for our people as well, both here (e.g., our children or the children we love) and elsewhere (e.g., our ancestors). I have also been thinking about the issue of race relations in America and the history of slavery, and how scientific researchers are beginning to discover that ancestral experiences get coded into the DNA of ensuing generations going forward–meaning that black Americans are currently processing the emotional, psychological, spiritual, and physical ramifications of being black in America WHILE SIMULTANEOUSLY processing their profound ancestral wounding of everything that goes along with being systematically enslaved. And white people who are not allies, who perhaps have a history of racism and white supremacy in their backgrounds, are processing everything that means in addition to their own feelings about the changes in the world. Today’s draw is a reminder of that: the web has been woven very densely around all of us, and being embodied in this reality means accepting that. You can’t escape it, even in death. Not here. So the thing to do is (gently) allow yourself to heal, and let what is dead serve as compost for what is to come. Let your scars tell your stories and the stories of your people, but don’t become your scars.