As we approach Samhain – what the modern calendar calls Halloween – the veil thins, and I find myself instinctively tuning in to my ancestors.
Primarily, I sit with those I have known who have already slipped through that veil. My grandparents, my teachers, dear friends, beloved pets, and the souls who have inspired and held me. I sit with them in deep gratitude, and naturally, with that tender, familiar ache of grief.
Yet ancestors are not merely those who walked the soil before us. Ancestorship is a two-way current: it flows forward into the ones who come after us.
This year, the pull toward the future is fierce. I find myself feeling deeply into the question: What kind of ancestor do I want to be? What imprint will I leave behind?
I have always sought to leave the physical and relational spaces I occupy in a better state than I found them. Caring for the walls of my home, nurturing the soil, tending the plants, and loving my people with everything I have. But right now, looking around, that doesn’t feel like enough. Not for me.
The Weight of the World We Hand Them
As I watch the collective unravelling – the desperate, volatile thrashing of the patriarchy as it cracks, and the violent surge of misogyny fighting back – my feminist heart, soul, and physical body ache with real fear for my children.
I am raising both a son and a daughter. And as a mother, I carry an immense, visceral responsibility to help them step into this world aligned with hope rather than despair. How do we guide them through climate chaos, through a war-torn landscape, and through the pervasive, agonising fear that women face just existing in their daily lives – walking home, dating, or navigating danger from the very partners or family members who ought to protect them?
What Is the Seventh Generation Principle?
Indigenous wisdom has understood this relational responsibility for thousands of years. The Haudenosaunee (Iroquois) tradition teaches the Seventh Generation Principle: our lives are intimately braided seven generations back and seven generations forward. We bear the duty to heal what came undone in the past, and to tread gently enough that those seven generations ahead inherit clean water and fertile soil. In Mayan cosmologies, there is an even longer view: if a decision isn't sound for 400 years into the future, it is simply not a good decision.
And how does our culture in the West respond?
Frankly, most of the time, we don’t. As a collective, we behave like toddlers in a sandpit: hoarding resources, refusing to share, living shallow, hyper-individualistic lives devoted to short-term comfort – with an unspoken attitude of take what I want now, and to hell with everything and everyone else. When people operate from subconscious terror about the future rather than grounded hope, they grab frantically for whatever pleasure or consumption numbs the panic today.
As I navigate the rich, seasoned second half of my life, I refuse to live like that. I want my legacy to be light in physical waste, but heavy in reverence. Wherever I root in my later years, I want that ground to be a living testament to balance: working alongside the earth rather than stripping her bare.
Here are 10 concrete ways I am choosing to be a conscious ancestor – blending deep ecological intention with the biological and scientific realities of our bodies and planet.
1. Eat Organic to Protect the Earth’s Soil Microbiome (and Our Own)
Choosing organic food isn't an aesthetic trend; it is basic cellular and soil protection. Modern industrial farming relies heavily on synthetic organophosphate pesticides and broad-spectrum herbicides like glyphosate. Peer-reviewed research has repeatedly confirmed that these chemicals degrade the fragile soil microbiome, stripping mycorrhizal networks that sequester carbon and nourish plants.
Internally, synthetic agrochemicals disrupt our gut microbiome, cross the gut barrier, and trigger chronic low-grade systemic inflammation. By choosing organic food wherever accessible – and teaching my children to value how food is grown – we cast a vote for living soil and reduce the endocrine-disrupting burden on their developing bodies.
2. Guard the Purity of Water
Water is our primary medicine, yet our municipal water systems are increasingly burdened by the chemical footprint of industrial living: heavy metals (like lead from ageing pipe infrastructure), microplastics, pesticide runoff, and persistent per- and polyfluoroalkyl substances (PFAS) – aptly termed "forever chemicals" because their carbon-fluorine bonds do not naturally degrade.
PFAS bioaccumulate in human tissue, linked clinically to thyroid disruption and immune suppression. I prioritise drinking water through a high-grade gravity ceramic/carbon filter (I use a Berkey) to strip out heavy metals, pharmaceutical residues, and halogenated compounds. Drinking and serving pure, living water ensures our organs can detoxify naturally, keeping us vital and resilient for the long road ahead.
FOR SORRELL: Naming Berkey is a product endorsement, and "pharmaceutical residues" is the maker's claim. Worth a quick check before naming the brand.
3. Step Down the Plastic Addiction – Sensibly and Honestly
Our dependence on plastic is one of the most insidious ecological traps ever designed. Plastics don't decompose; they mechanically fracture into micro- and nanoplastics, which have now been detected by researchers in human blood, lung tissue, and the human placenta. Furthermore, plasticisers like phthalates and Bisphenol A (BPA/BPS) act as xenohormones – molecular mimics that hijack human oestrogen receptors, destabilising endocrine health, fertility, and cellular repair across entire generations.
I do not live a "zero waste" fairy tale. Money is real, and the sustainable alternative is often priced like a luxury item. I do not buy every milk or oil in bespoke glass returnables because my family budget has borders. But I practise intentional harm reduction: saying no to single-use plastics wherever possible, keeping food storage to glass and stainless steel, and constantly looking for realistic swaps. Being a good ancestor does not require rigid perfection; it requires relentless, conscious effort within your real life.
4. Break the Fast-Fashion Cycle (with Sensible Exceptions)
The textile industry accounts for roughly 10% of global carbon emissions – more than international flights and maritime shipping combined. Synthetic fast fashion is essentially liquid fossil fuel spun into threads: polyester, nylon, and acrylic shed hundreds of thousands of non-biodegradable microfibres into waterways with every single laundry wash. Landfills in places like Chile's Atacama Desert and Ghana are now literally visible from orbital satellite imaging – mountains of discarded synthetic clothes suffocating local ecosystems.
Apart from essentials that require strict hygiene and dignity – I buy brand new organic cotton socks and underwear, and make no apologies for it – I source my clothing secondhand. Prioritising vintage natural fibres (wool, linen, hemp, organic cotton) keeps textiles out of landfills and halts the demand for petroleum-based garments.
5. Clear Generational Pain Through Heart-Led Healing
Trauma is biologically real, and science now confirms what healers have always known. The field of behavioural epigenetics shows that severe stress and emotional trauma leave biological marks on our DNA – specifically altering DNA methylation patterns that can be inherited by our children and grandchildren. Chronic stress cascades through elevated cortisol, suppressing the vagus nerve and warping immune regulation.
In my practice – whether holding space for individuals or working in small groups – we do the work of addressing and metabolising old wounds. We process grief, rage, and chronic fear so they are not dumped into the bodies of our children. When an individual heals, they alter the biological and emotional blueprint of the family tree that follows them.
6. Plant Trees: Restoring the Lungs of Mama Earth
Our lungs and the trees are reciprocal biological systems: we breathe in oxygen and exhale carbon dioxide; they take in our carbon dioxide and exhale our breath. It is no coincidence that the surge in respiratory vulnerabilities and viral challenges mirrors the widespread destruction of global canopies.
Trees are astonishing biological bio-filters. Species like Ginkgo biloba, oak, and silver birch are documented by botanical researchers to actively intercept particulate matter (PM2.5 and PM10), sequestering heavy airborne toxins into their bark and leaf waxes while scrubbing volatile organic compounds (VOCs) from the air. Over my life, I have planted more than 30 trees in my own earth – from small whips to sturdy mature canopies – alongside funding global tree reforestation charities. Every root in the ground stabilises topsoil and cools the microclimate.
7. Stand Behind Indigenous Sovereignty and Land Stewards
Indigenous peoples make up less than 6% of the global population, yet they protect more than 80% of the world’s remaining biodiversity. These cultures are the living libraries of ecological literacy, polyculture agriculture, and traditional ecological knowledge (TEK) – an empirical, time-tested understanding of cyclical balance that Western reductionist science is only now beginning to model mathematically.
I love technology for its potential to bridge solutions, but technology without reverence is catastrophic. Supporting organisations like the Pachamama Alliance helps safeguard native territorial sovereignty, preserve rain-forest ecosystems, and protect the medicinal plants that hold the keys to modern and traditional pharmacology.
8. Nourish and Uphold Women
In socio-ecological research, the "Mother Effect" is well-documented: when women have autonomy, safety, education, and resources, local biodiversity improves, infant mortality drops, and entire community economies stabilise. Women are culturally and biologically positioned as caretakers, creators, and primary system regulators for the nervous systems of their children.
Yet in a patriarchal culture, women give until they are entirely depleted. To be a good ancestor, I must actively hold space for women: honouring their nervous systems, creating safe sanctuaries, and insisting on their physical and psychological safety. When a woman is nourished, she stops operating from survival mode and can lead from sovereignty and deep vitality.
9. Build Living Soil Through Composting and Seed Stewardship
Topsoil loss is one of the quietest yet most dangerous existential threats facing human agriculture. According to the UN Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO), industrial tillage and chemical inputs have degraded a massive portion of the world's arable land.
By composting our kitchen scraps and organic matter, we practise direct mineral and microbial return, converting waste into dark humus rich in fulvic and humic acids. Saving heirloom seeds preserves genetic diversity against corporate mono-cropping, ensuring resilient crops that can adapt to changing temperatures. Feeding the worms and guarding heirloom seeds is real, tactile ancestorship.
10. Cultivate Offline Presence and Slow Down
The modern attention economy is deliberately engineered to keep human nervous systems trapped in a permanent state of fight-or-flight. High-dopamine digital feeds fragment our cognition and shrink our attention spans, detaching us from seasonal rhythms and real-time sensory observation of the natural world.
Stepping away from screens, putting our hands directly onto earth, feeling the morning sun warm our skin, and sitting in quiet reflection is an act of ecological defiance. Children do not remember the products we bought them or the emails we sent; they remember whether we were truly present when we looked into their eyes. Being an ancestor worth remembering begins with being here now.
The Path Forward
Being a good ancestor is not an abstract concept or an exercise in moral guilt. It is a slow, daily, messy devotional practice. It lives in the small choices: refusing the quick convenience, patching the sweater, filtering the water, listening deeply to our children’s fears, and remembering that our lives do not begin and end with our own skin.
As the veil thins this season, take a moment to look into the dark. Thank those whose blood and breath carried you to this moment. Then turn your gaze gently forward, take a breath, and ask yourself the uncomfortable question:
What condition will my lineage inherit seven generations down the line? When they look back at my footprint, will they find mountains of petrochemical rubbish we were too lazy to stop buying – or will they inherit living soil, clean water, and the shade of trees planted with love?
If old family patterns, grief or fear are asking to be met, you don’t have to carry them alone. As a Medical Herbalist and shamanic practitioner of over 30 years, I offer 1-to-1 sessions here in Margate, Kent, from shamanic healing and herbal medicine to hypnotherapy and soul counsel. Explore my therapies and book a session.
