We talk a great deal, in ancestor work, about inherited wounds.
About the patterns that were passed down through blood and behaviour and the quiet catastrophes of family history. The silence that became a survival strategy and outlived the danger that made it necessary. The hypervigilance that protected your grandmother and now runs in your body like a programme nobody consented to install.
This is important work. The inherited wound is real, and reckoning with it honestly is one of the most significant things a practitioner can do — for themselves, and for the lineage they carry forward.
But there is another inheritance, and it tends to receive far less attention.
Your ancestors also passed down their gifts.
