{"id":45629,"date":"2025-04-26T17:04:05","date_gmt":"2025-04-26T21:04:05","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/rachellerogers.com\/dev1\/?p=45629"},"modified":"2026-02-27T21:05:44","modified_gmt":"2026-02-28T02:05:44","slug":"ancestral-healing-and-cosmic-connect-the-dots","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/rachellerogers.com\/dev1\/ancestral-healing-and-cosmic-connect-the-dots\/","title":{"rendered":"Ancestral Healing and Cosmic Connect-the-Dots"},"content":{"rendered":"
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26<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n\n

April 2025<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n\n

Ancestral Healing
Other Lives
Native American
Spirit Guides<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n

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Ancestral Healing and Cosmic Connect-the-Dots<\/h1>

by Rachelle Rogers<\/a><\/span><\/p><\/div><\/div>\n\n

The notion of ancestral healing is relatively new to me. I hadn\u2019t heard of it until maybe a few years ago. And I didn\u2019t really have an understanding of what it entailed. The thought of it, however, as another arena in which I might have to uncover more deep, multi-faceted, inter-dimensional feelings, maybe even trauma, was something I wasn\u2019t at all interested in. And in my many conversations with my Spirit Team, both through channeled sessions, and through my own inner communications, ancestral healing had never come up\u2026at least not until I moved to Colorado.<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n

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Photo by Ronnie Watkins of her backyard visitors.<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n

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During a channeled session about a month ago, I was told that part of why I had been \u201ccalled\u201d to these mystical Rocky Mountains was because of ancestral healing. I wasn\u2019t given details, and I didn\u2019t want any. I was not interested in any more drama on any level. But for several weeks afterwards, I found myself thinking about what I was told, and why I was told it, of how I was so powerfully drawn here under some of the most challenging circumstances. Even without details, I was already \u201cfeeling\u201d the intensity of what I was involved in healing, and the depth of those feelings was a surprise to me. I had the opportunity to speak with my Spirit Guides again recently, and I had questions. I wanted to know what my connection was to these mountains.<\/p>\n

I was told that I had lifetimes there with others in my Soul family, and that there was some disharmony that is asking for attention to be healed, that there were events that occurred that were traumatizing for me and many many others, and that part of the reason I now was living where I\u2019m living was to ground that disharmonious energy, which will transmute it into harmonious white light.<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n

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I was told that it was not important for me to know exact details, but I was given these things:<\/p>\n

What it is important for you to know is that you are a much wiser, stronger, and fiercer warrior than you give yourself credit for. This is not to boost your vanity. It is for you to integrate into your current body. Even though it\u2019s not the size of a so-called linebacker, you are still that wise, strong, and fierce warrior. You\u2019ve always been that. It is truly irrelevant that you remember details. Just know that you are indeed working through it, finding your way through it, and because it was part of your list of missions to accomplish. and you are much further along than you give yourself credit for \u2014 be kind to yourself, kinder and gentler, and bring forth that fierce warrior along with the adept master of the arts.<\/em><\/p>\n

One thing I did come to on my own was that this was a Native American lifetime, but just in case, I asked for confirmation.<\/p>\n

Indeed yes. It was quite heavy. and again, you are working through it. A few times in your week you travel to a place of healing on the higher dimensional planes and are getting assistance in the transmutation and transfiguration of this heavy energy. It\u2019s as if it is a ball and chain kind of weight that is upon you, but know that there were many balls and chains wrapped around you and you have already released more than half of them, so you are well on your way to be free of them completely.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n

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I felt overwhelmed. And I also wondered why I was recalling something that seemed to have nothing to do with any ancestral line connected to my current biological family. No matter how far back I might be able to trace my ancestry through my current family line, I couldn\u2019t see any way that it could possibly intersect with what I was discovering. Whatever I was working through was connected to another lifetime. Was I healing ancestral trauma from another time and place, another genetic line? Would it be called ancestral healing if it wasn't about my current ancestry? And if it was mainly about healing a past life, why was it being called ancestral healing? For now, these questions remain unanswered.<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n

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As all this came up, I started to remember how much Native American influences played through my life since the early 1970\u2019s. It began with something I hardly ever talk about \u2014 a short-lived but abusive relationship with a man who, in part, was of Cherokee ancestry. But the important thing I realized about that relationship was that he\u2019s the one who taught me how to work with leather. It was effortless for me, like something I had always known how to do.<\/p>\n

In 1974, I moved from Woodstock, NY to Fort Lauderdale, FL, not by choice, but due to circumstance. It was there that I met Frank, who would become my partner for the next twelve years, my third husband for eight months after that, and my ex-husband and still friend until his death in 2022. About a year after we met, we decided to open a leather shop together in a new artisan cooperative in the early days of the promised resurrection of the downtown, somewhat dangerous historical district along the river known as Himmarshee Village. We called our custom leather shop Sun Leather. It had a Native American feel with the scent of white sage wafting through, and the achingly beautiful echo of Carlos Nikai\u2019s solo flute. I taught Frank everything I knew about leathercraft, and as a draftsman and engineer, he learned very quickly. We did everything by hand, including dying, cutting, punching, stitching, braiding, finishing. All our designs were original, unique, and one-of-a-kind.<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n

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Elk bag with beading, bone, crystal, and feathers<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n\n

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Deerskin bag with braided seams and shoulder strap, and painted Native American design<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n

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Sun Leather, Ft. Lauderdale FL<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n

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At the beginning, I chose various kinds and weights of cowhide for most of my work. I also used soft Italian calfskin for smaller projects like checkbook holders (remember those), card holders, wallets, and such. In addition to handbags, I received commissions for some unusual projects. One was a custom designed quiver, as in arrow holder. Another was wet forming a specific shaped piece of heavy leather to link the ends of some kind of medical plastic hip support for a child. Yes you can soak and wetform cowhide and it will dry hard and hold its shape.<\/p>\n

I soon added deer and elk, my favorite skins to work with. I collected books on Native America design and incorporated aspects into my work, including painted symbols, beadwork, feathers, and the thinnest long fringe cut with a rotary blade. I also created braided instead of stitched seams, a difficult but beautiful addition. I always thanked the spirits of the animals whose skins I worked with, cleared them with white sage. I was a leather artisan on and off for over twenty years.<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n

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Deerskin bag with beaded amulet, braided strap, and long fringe<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n

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Other pieces of this story surfaced this week. Frank and I had moved from Florida to Chapel Hill, NC in 1987. After we married and divorced in 1988, Frank moved to Asheville while I stayed in Chapel Hill another three years. It was a smooth transition. He and I remained friends.<\/p>\n

When we first moved to Chapel Hill in 1987, Frank and I had started a metaphysical discussion group in our home based on the Seth Material channeled by Jane Roberts in the 1970\u2019s. Barbara Marciniak came to that group and we became friends. She told me and others that she would very soon be channeling ET\u2019s. In 1988, Barbara began channeling a Pleiadian collective that brought forth a whole new perspective on who we are, why we\u2019re here, and what\u2019s really going on. Over the decades, she, her work, and her books, especially Bringers of the Dawn<\/em>, went on to become internationally known.<\/p>\n

Soon after Barbara started channeling, she held sessions for a group of us who would become a kind of spiritual family. There were lots of things the P\u2019s, as we called them, encouraged us to participate in, many from Native American practices. In addition to chanting together harmoniously, attempting to spin thirty-three times in each direction, and getting rid of our televisions, some of us did a sweat lodge, and we held drumming circles, one of my favorite things.<\/p>\n

I remember driving a ways out of town to the shop of a Native American drum maker to pick out my first drum. I fell in love with a larger one made out of elk hide. It cost way more than I could afford at the time \u2014 a little over $100, but I bought it.<\/p>\n

Doing a sweat lodge was not one of my better choices. I thought I was going to die. Especially when some soot got into the fire pit and it was difficult not to breathe it in. We had fasted all day, another thing my then 105 pound body wasn\u2019t good at, and I remember crawling out of the tent on my hands and knees, turning onto my back and lying on the grass next to Barbara looking up at the now dark night sky. \u201cYou see those three lights,\u201d she said. \u201cThey\u2019re ships (as in spaceships).\u201d There was nothing to reply. They looked like ships to me.<\/p>\n

But one of the most traumatic things that happened during that time was when I was driving home one night from a group channeling. It was after 11 pm and I took the back roads because it was faster. When I turned on to the last road leading to the new duplex I\u2019d rented, everything was pitch black. I got almost home when suddenly I saw this beautiful deer run out in front of my car headlights. I hit it with a giant thud. I was immediately traumatized. There were no cell phones back then. And not a soul on the road or a house in sight. I sat in my car, keening, begging the deer to get up. Miraculously, it did and ran into the woods. I was shaking uncontrollably, but somehow got myself home. Later on, I found out that the deer had died. I was devastated. And I had $850 in damages to my relatively new Honda Accord.<\/p>\n

As I was remembering this a couple of days ago, I also recalled writing a song \u2014 I sometimes wrote songs for guitar \u2014 that came out of the experience with the deer, although, after re-reading it, it seems really about something else. It seems more about what I\u2019m experiencing now, over thirty-five years later. It feels directly related to the ancestral healing stuff I\u2019m being told about. It's uncanny. And disturbing.<\/p>\n

Here is the song. I\u2019m not sure why I named it Sowelu, which is the name of a Rune stone that translates to sun<\/em> or wholeness<\/em>, and represents a state of being complete and unified.<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n

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Sowelu<\/strong><\/p>\n

She was spied in the eye of the eagle
As they sojourned as wide as the sun
And the stars spun the night into music
And the moon made their memory one<\/p>\n

She was sharing the plume of the serpent
And their skin shined like crystalline sand
As the glow from the mystical morning
Wove a rainbow over the land<\/p>\n

She draped antelope dresses about her
With her hair trailing cedar and sage
As she danced in the violet twilight
To a chant which grew sweeter with age<\/p>\n

She drowned in the tears of her brothers
As their spirits held close to the last
And the rain and wind spun within them
And the pain of a darkness so vast<\/p>\n

These amethyst dreams move before me
Playing stories as deep as my soul
Of a day when the doe was my sister
And the song of the earth made me whole<\/p>\n

Of a day when the doe was my sister
And the song of the earth made me whole<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n

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In late 1991, the Blue Ridge Mountains called me and I moved from Chapel Hill to Asheville. It was a personally challenging time, and for a short period, I rented space in Frank\u2019s house. I decided to go back to leathercraft and had a whole room to set up as my workshop. It was from this time that another remarkable memory arose. Frank and I had a close mutual friend who channeled, and once a month Frank hosted her closed group in his home. I knew some of the people, and got to know others. Most knew that I was a leather artisan and had seen my work.<\/p>\n

On one of those evenings, a woman in the group asked to speak with me. We went upstairs to my workshop. She offered me a very unusual commission. She needed three specific items made that she would give me the specifications for, including what kind of leather to use. She could tell me nothing more, except that there were certain conditions involved: I could not tell anyone about this project; I could not show anything to anyone; I could not photograph anything. I knew her enough to trust her, and she came with cash down payment in hand, so I accepted the commission.<\/p>\n

It was unexpectedly more difficult than I thought it would be to work in such isolation. I had to let go of continual ego mind chatter. I breathed, committed myself to the task, and kept my workshop door tightly closed.<\/p>\n

Some time after the project was completed and picked up, it could have been weeks, or years after, I really don\u2019t remember, something incredible happened. I was at one of my dear friend Barbara Lange\u2019s monthly art salons in Burnsville NC and there were some folks I hadn\u2019t seen before. As I wandered outside to walk around the garden, a man approached me. I knew who he was, but we hadn\u2019t spoken yet. His name was Will Rockingbear. He was a Cherokee elder. He apparently knew exactly who I was. He said he wanted to thank me. He said that he had taken with him to a southwest Native gathering (he wasn\u2019t specific about where), two of the three pieces I had created, and that they had been used in a ceremony to open a 500 year old sacred site. One of the items he took was a pipe bag I had made out of fine white deerskin. It was used to hold a ceremonial pipe in a hand carved wooden box. I was humbled and speechless.<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n

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Is there some kind of order running through the seeming disconnected chaos of our lives? Have we, on some level, laid out hints for our Selves along the way, a kind of cosmic connect-the-dots? And how am I to embrace and embolden myself to integrate this wise, strong, fierce warrior I\u2019m told that I am? I hate the word warrior<\/em>. I don\u2019t want to be a warrior. I don\u2019t want to fight anyone or anything. Were these words meant to be a glimpse of what this ancestral healing is about? Was I male then? Was I a warrior? And if so, what does it all mean?<\/p>\n

I will put these things to rest for now and focus on how to get my body more alkaline \u2014 a necessary part of my new self-care, prepare a list of places I want to explore when the weather gets warmer, and figure out how to get my upstairs neighbors to stop letting their door slam. I will focus on practical things...at least for a little while.<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n

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← <\/span>Passion, A Memory, and Moving On<\/span><\/a><\/span>How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love AI<\/span> →<\/span><\/a><\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n