When I first thought about ancestor work, my heart ached. My grandfather had just died—the one whose last words (years before his death) still echoed in my brain like a bell I can’t unhear. And then there was the other one, my father’s father. I barely knew him in life. I’d found his obituary on the internet long before I’d ever speak to my father again. How do you even begin ancestor work when the threads connecting you to your family feel so tangled, frayed, or thin? How do you reach into the past when part of you isn’t sure you want to?
But here’s the truth that hit me like a freight train: whether I wanted to or not, those connections were already there. My grandfather’s voice, the silence of the other, the shared bloodline—all of it lived in me. The choice wasn’t whether to acknowledge it, but whether I’d step into it with intention. And what I found was that ancestor work isn’t just about reaching back—it’s about grounding yourself here, in this moment, and choosing who and what gets to be a part of your story moving forward. It’s about healing, growth, and discernment.
It’s the most sacred act of claiming yourself.

I know it’s a topic that makes some people squirm. Maybe you’re rolling your eyes, thinking about all those family skeletons rattling in your closet, and you’re ready to skip to the next step in your magical practice. Trust me, I get it. But let me tell you something important: avoiding it doesn’t make the connections go away. They’re still there, woven into your blood, your bones, your very existence. Whether you like it or not, your ancestors are part of the foundation of who you are—and that makes ancestor work one of the most powerful tools you’ll ever have in your practice.
Here’s the thing about ancestor work: it’s not just about lighting a candle and putting up a picture of Grandma. It’s about discernment. It’s about choosing. It’s about learning to listen to the energies that surround you and saying, “You? I’ll work with you. You? Absolutely not.”
Because, yes, not all ancestors are for you. If someone pops up and gives you bad vibes, listen to that gut feeling. You don’t owe anyone (living or dead) your time, energy, or reverence. If Great-Grandpa was a racist jerk in life, he doesn’t get to ride your coattails in death.
But here’s the magic of it: even when you’re saying “no” to one ancestor, you’re opening the door to others. Maybe rejecting that toxic lineage reveals a protector you didn’t know you had. Maybe setting boundaries with the shitty ones strengthens your connection to the powerful ones. And maybe, just maybe, the lessons you learn from those difficult spirits guide you to greater understanding in your practice. Ancestor work is messy, but it’s also deeply transformative.
Why Ancestor Work is Foundational
If you’re starting your magical journey—or even if you’re years into it—ancestor work is like building a strong foundation before you start stacking the bricks. You can try to skip it, but you’ll find yourself stumbling. Why? Because your ancestors are a direct link to your magic, your power, and your growth. They’ve lived, struggled, celebrated, and mourned—and that lived experience can teach you so much about who you are and where your magic comes from.
More importantly, ancestor work teaches discernment. When you open the door to ancestor spirits, not every energy that comes through is going to be warm and fuzzy. Some might feel downright wrong. Learning to recognize those energies, to set boundaries, and to trust your gut is absolutely crucial in magic. If you can’t discern between a helpful ancestor and an opportunistic one, how will you navigate spirits, deities, or energies in other parts of your practice? Ancestor work is where you build those muscles. It’s where you learn to trust yourself.
Addressing the Skeletons in the Closet
I know some of you are thinking, “But my family? No thanks.” Maybe your lineage is full of trauma. Maybe there’s shame, pain, or secrets you don’t want to touch with a ten-foot pole. That’s okay. Ancestor work isn’t about forgiving unforgivable things or forcing yourself to connect with spirits you don’t want to deal with. It’s about choice. You have every right to say, “I honor my ancestors, but I choose to work only with those who support me, love me, and guide me in my growth.”
Dark skeletons in the closet don’t negate the power of ancestor work. If anything, they make it richer. Healing ancestral wounds can be incredibly powerful. Not just for you, but for future generations. When you face the darkness in your lineage, you take the first step in breaking cycles and reclaiming your power. You don’t have to dive into the deep end right away, but ignoring it entirely might mean missing out on incredible growth.

The Practical Side of Ancestor Work
Jason’s (my husband) grandfather, Tom, is the perfect example of how ancestors work can surprise you. I only spoke to him once – a brief hello on the phone when Jason and I had just started dating. A month later, he passed away. I didn’t know him in life, yet in death, he’s one of the loudest voices on my spiritual team. Tom shows up at the most unexpected times, a no-nonsense presence that feels like a nudge (or sometimes a shove) in the right direction. Maybe it’s because Jason inherited Tom’s hardheadedness, and someone has to mediate when things get a little stubborn. Or maybe it’s because the love Tom poured into his family is something he’s still determined to pass on, something he’s trusted us to carry forward for our own children one day.
And that’s the beauty of ancestor work. You don’t have to know every name or have a deep connection in life to build one now. Start small. Light a candle. Say their name. Speak to them, even if it feels strange at first. You might be surprised who steps forward, like Tom did for me. Pay attention to how they show up – whether it’s through a feeling, a sign, or a quiet presence in your life. And if someone doesn’t feel right, trust yourself enough to say no. You get to choose who sits at your table, and that choice is where the magic begins.
Jason’s family is staunchly Christian, so when he told his mom I talk to Tom, I wasn’t sure how she’d take it. But her curious voice still lingers in my head, that soft sense of wondering. I hope it’s enough for her to see what I see. That Tom’s love never really left, and his presence is one of the ways we honor the connections that continue to guide us, both in this life and beyond. Ancestor work is a practice of discernment, yes, but it’s also one of deep love. The kind of love that lingers, grows, and makes room for even the hardest of heads.

Ancestors Are Waiting—Are You?
Whether you’re ready to dive in or still dipping your toes in the water, know this: ancestor work is foundational because it’s about you. It’s about your roots, your growth, and your ability to navigate the magical world with clarity and confidence. It’s not always easy, and it’s definitely not always pretty, but it is absolutely worth it.
So light that candle. Start the conversation. The rest will follow.