Knitting the bones back together

jacquelinefreeman4
May 18
7 min read

This image is AI generated, but the text is written by me.

My big trip this year is focusing on Civil War sites. The work started before I left Arizona in March as there is a site about an hour and half south of me at Picacho Peak. There was a lot of activity around securing the 30th parallel all the way to the west coast. The Confederates wanted to make sure that any new territories that were admitted to the US were slave-holding and not free. So much for the war being about local control vs. central control. The westernmost battle with casualties was in Arizona. I went twice to get to know the Land Guardians and see how I could be of service. I’d wanted to go a third time, but the temperatures jumped to 105+, so camping was a non-option.

With these Civil War sites, what's been happening more often than not, is there is a wound on the land that was there long before settlers arrived. That wound draws certain energy to it, and fighting has been happening there for centuries. Several of the sites I’ve been to have ceremonial Indian mounds there, so that’s been a guide for choosing where to visit as there are just too many sites and even a 4 month trip doesn’t afford me the time to get to them all. To say nothing of gas prices!

By approaching the Guardians of the Land with my people and team, I’m led to where I can be of service. The work requires Presence. The more I’m able to release attachment and judgement, the easier it is to perceive clearly and move the energy through. That’s been particularly hard on this trip, considering the guiding map points. It remains an edge for me. These places are reflecting back to me just how much judgement and desire for vengeance and retribution I carry within me. My time at Stone Mountain in Georgia brought the biggest breakthrough yet on being able to connect to deep empathy for the Confederates. More on that another time.

Last week, I was in Bennett Place near Durham, North Carolina. I knew that the largest surrender of Confederate troops happened there. What I didn’t know was that the war was ended there. Like most, I thought the war ended at Appomattox when Lee surrendered his troops to Grant a couple of weeks earlier. That’s the perception- and one not debunked at the Appomattox Courthouse National Park, but the surrender at Appomattox was a purely military surrender. At Bennett Place, Sherman and Johnston drew up an agreement to end the war that reached far beyond the surrender of troops. Sherman was heavily criticized for stepping outside his proscribed role as general and called a traitor for the terms in the North. And it's easy to feel that way. It's easy to look at the rolling back of civil rights happening in America at the moment and point to the end of the Civil War and the Confederates not having any consequences for their insurrection as a point in our timeline where we took the path that led us to where we are today.

Before arriving at Bennett Place, I expected to come into a field of grief and despair of Confederate soldiers. Of smouldering resentment and the yearning for vengeance that follows defeat for those not self-aware or interested enough in keeping the darker forces within them in check. As I read about the campaigns to have Sherman tried for treason, I thought I might also feel anger and vengeance of another flavor from the Union soldiers.

That is not what I found.

On his way to Bennett Place, Sherman had received a coded telegram. Once reading it, he swore the clerk to secrecy and headed on his way. Upon arrival, he greeted Johnston and handed him the telegram. Lincoln had been shot. Johnston let out a gasp and declared the horror of it. With the news of the first assassination of an American president filling the space, the men began negotiations.

Standing in that room, I felt the hearts of two men that each deeply loved their troops. That had seen enough suffering and bloodshed for multiple lifetimes. 700,000 people died. Another 300,000 injured. There were entire towns in the South that had lost every single male during the course of the war. Sherman and Johnston just wanted it to be over. They had reached the point of enough.

Sherman had just had a meeting with Lincoln and Grant aboard the River Queen where Lincoln had articulated his vision for the country. Sherman carried that vision close to him that day, and I could feel it in the space. Not wanting the sacrifices of those that fought, lived, and died through the Revolutionary War to be in vain, Lincoln was committed to keeping the Union together. He didn’t want any retributions, no firing squads, nor public hangings. He wanted the Confederates to turn their hearts again towards the Union. Like the father welcoming the Prodigal Son, he stood with open arms saying “That doesn’t matter anymore. Just come home.”

Using the terms agreed to at Appomattox a bit over 2 weeks before as a starting place, Sherman and Johnston arrived at an agreement that was gracious, generous, and welcoming. I’d had a lot of anger about how lenient I’d perceived those terms before, but standing in that space, it brought me to tears. I realized how far I’d moved away from the Beattitude teachings of “Blessed be the meek, for they shall inherit the earth. Blessed are the Peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God” and instead moved more towards the malignant stance of there being either Victims or Victors. That the Confederates needed to be “taught a lesson” and “put in their place”. The same kind of hierarchical domination patterns I’ve been trying to wriggle out from under my whole life. The same ones that sicken me as they play across our headlines and are tweeted late at night from the highest offices. But there I was. Wanting to subjugate them and witness their being dominated and silenced. We have this idea that there’s something righteous about wanting vengeance. About demanding punishment.

But I know from the work I do guiding souls over the thresholds that our anger directed at someone just keeps them held in the same space they were when they hurt us. It doesn’t allow them to heal and move forward. They’ll stay stuck acting the same way that caused pain to begin with.

I also know that no one “gets away with” anything. All will have their accounting required of them. It's part of the process of crossing over, and trying to avoid the accounting by not crossing over leaves souls homeless- without shelter and sustenance. Eventually, everyone will be moved over the threshold. Better to do the accounting before it's required- feel your feelings, and have empathy for those you’ve hurt. When I watch these folks that push their own feelings down, then think it's funny to be cruel to others, I wince. They have no idea what they’re laying up in store for themselves.

Historically, the ending of a rebellious uprising would end with taking the defeated into slavery. Not really appropriate for a war fought to preserve the “right” to own slaves. Though maybe there would be some kind of ironic justice there- to fight to preserve the right to own slaves and by that right becoming slaves themselves. That’s not the path we took- we can’t end slavery by enslaving. Another path often taken is that of complete annihilation of the leadership and violent culling of their followers. That is a move that suits those looking to strengthen their hold over a society. But that wasn’t what Lincoln was seeking.

He wanted a reunion. A nation healed.

And he seemed to be filling the room with that goal as Sherman and Johnston negotiated. As my previous anger about the leniency of the terms melted away, I began to wonder-- did we take a different road here? Was this the forging of a new path?

But then, the question continues to nag at me-- what to do with those that don’t honor the spirit in which these agreements were reached? Who seek to take advantage of that generosity and grace? If the Peacemakers be Blessed, Woe comes to those who bring people to regret their kindness. Who make it look and feel like kindness is foolish. Who act in bad faith.

There wasn’t that much to do at Bennett Place with the land itself. The work there was internal. This edge I’ve been working with the whole trip just amplified at Appomattox. I’ve not only seen, but Know that the mark of great strength is great compassion and kindness. The Divine Source doesn’t need to hold grudges to keep safe. Divine Source isn’t worried about being hurt, so it doesn’t need defenses. It remains open and loving, always. We’re the ones that close ourselves off from that Love-- frightened of it in a myriad of ways. Afraid we’re not worthy.

What better than a trip tracing the movements of the Confederates--who I’d always seen as the American Nazis--to push me against my defenses and fears. The places I feel vulnerable and thus fortify and defend. The ways I judge. The ones I want to see brought low.

The Ranger at Bennett Place talked about Lincoln’s vision too. And got us all wondering where we’d be as a country had Lincoln been here to usher us through Reconstruction. If he’d been able to more directly guide us through knitting ourselves back together as a country, healing the seeping wounds the war had stretched open.

As we stand at this threshold where the spectre of civil war again looms, what can we each do to stand for the vision of our country that we hold, while also finding a way to knit ourselves back together again? Reconnect with our neighbors? Reconnect with the actual physical land we live on? How do we hold ourselves accountable for how we got here? What have we turned a blind eye to? What have we let slide? Where have we lost energy and time blaming ourselves and each other instead of seeing how the system is acting on us? What do we need to be healthy and connected? How do we build that around us? Who can we collaborate with to build that?

Fierce foes to each other on the battlefield, Sherman and Johnston remained dear friends for the rest of their lives. They found each other in that room.

Had he and I but met

By some old ancient inn,

We should have sat us down to wet

Right many a nipperkin!

But ranged as infantry,

And staring face to face,

I shot at him as he at me

And killed him in his place.

I shot him dead because--

Because he was my foe,

Just so: my foe of course he was;

That’s clear enough; although