Ancestral Wander: Listening to the Land as Ancestor

A few years ago, during the Seminary of the Wild Earth program, we were invited to write about our ancestors — not only the human ones, but to imagine those who came before them, and before, and before again, reaching all the way back to the more-than-human ancestors. That invitation opened something profound in me. Considering the land itself as ancestor allowed me to sense the landscapes that live within me — in my mind, my heart, and my body. This is the poem that was given to me that day.

I Remember My Mothers

I remember my Mothers -

Mother Stone was nestled

deep in the earth

while touching the sky.

I was part of her.

I remember my Mothers -

Slowly I was formed,

Mother Water bathed me

making her way into me,

shaping me with gentleness.

I remember my becoming

the earth shaking -

a great crack.

a push.

and

there

I was.

Over the eons,

shifting,

transforming,

becoming again and again,

I am here,

in this time,

in this moment,

still becoming.

I am me.

I am my Mothers.

Mountains in my bones,

water in my veins,

holding both in my being,

connected.

I remember my Mothers-

Stone and Water.

• Michele Walker

This ever expanding experience of interconnection helps me to remember I belong to this earth. 

This is a sacred time to honour ancestors — not only of blood, but of land, stone, water, and wind. Through this gentle nature-based ritual, you’re invited to step outdoors and listen for your more-than-human ancestors — the beings of earth and sky who have shaped and sustained your life.

An Invitation to Wander:
Listening for Your More-than-Human Ancestors

This wander invites you into a quiet conversation with the land —
a time to listen beyond words, to remember the ones who shaped you long before human memory.

Find a place that is calling to you — a forest path, a shoreline, a meadow, a park, even your own backyard.
Pause before you begin. Take a breath and set your intention:
to listen for those more-than-human beings who claim you as their kin and ancestor.

As you walk, move slowly. Notice what draws your attention — the curve of a branch, the call of a bird, the scent of earth after rain.
What stories do the stones, waters, and winds hold?
Who has been shaping you quietly, through generations of breath, soil, and song?

Let your wander be guided by curiosity and reverence.
There is no right way to do this — only the willingness to be present.
When you feel complete, offer a gesture of gratitude — a whispered thank you, a touch of the earth, a moment of stillness.

This is a practice of remembering — of letting the land remind you that you are not separate, but part of an ancient lineage of life still unfolding through you.

As your wander comes to an end, take a moment to pause and give thanks — to the land, the ancestors, and the unseen kin who walk beside you. These earth-based spiritual practices remind us that we belong to a lineage far older than memory, one held in the breath of trees, the rhythm of rivers, and the wisdom of stone. Each step you take in awareness becomes an offering — a way of honouring the ancestors and renewing your relationship with the living world.