Rites

The Navajo believe in ceremonies that cure the spirit. They have the Blessing Way and many other Way(s) that cure sicknesses of all kinds. These ceremonies also heal and pave the way to forgiveness.

Culturally, tribal civilizations would have ceremonies to signify puberty, adulthood and independence. An important component to these ceremonies was the idea of cutting ties and bonds to something that was harmful or holding someone back from natural progression.

As an Anglo, there aren't many ceremonies that are performed in my cultural heritage that have the same personal significance of letting things go, and I wish there were. I've come to the conclusion that I will have to perform my own rites in order to let go of burdens and attachments that serve nothing but to chain me to the past. I want to move on, and I feel like I'm on the verge, but I remain tied to the things that have hurt me as a way to prove I have lived. But I know the decisions I've made and the failed relationships that have seemingly ended. I've realized that I have nothing to prove to anyone besides me; for I know everything I've done and that should be enough of a red badge of courage.

I don't know how I will perform these rites, merely that I will. I'll have to do some pondering over that.

Tonight is the Summer Solstice, the day where the sun is out for the most amount of hours all year. I know the Celts, those hearty ancestors of mine, used to have May Day and Solstice rites for the Sun. I wonder what my own will look like. Cassandra in I Capture the Castle would sun bathe nude and then wear a white gown, make a fire and dance around it while screaming. All of this sounds lovely, with the exception that I have no privacy in a house of four people and only two bedrooms. No nude sun bathing for me.

I have a decision to make, one that I think will be hard, but nevertheless must be made. This decision is not permanent, but will allow me enough of a breather to start feeling balanced and neutral again.

So, about these rites: what should they look like? I've been reading this book about what it means to be woman and connecting to the ancient female spirit. At our core, women run with wolves. There is a story about the wolf woman--a powerful shaman-woman who collects the bones of animals long dead. She pieces them together and she starts to sing over them, louder and more emphatic until the creature comes back to life and runs full tilt into the free. It is noted that the witch's favorite creature is a she-wolf and that depending on how the light strikes the beast, she turns into a woman, running and laughing into the great wide open.

The story serves as a metaphor as to how a woman starts to get in tune with her essential self. This is a task that must be done by and for the woman herself, no one else, and marks a healthy beginning towards a relationship with herself and a foundation for all other healthy relationships with others. She must recognize the parts of her life, talk about them, exalt them, ponder them, lay them in a skeleton outline, and realize them, until those things becomes a magnificent beast, and are brought to life.

I think this is the my rite. I've spent the last few years singing over the bones, but never in such an exponentially open and deep manner. I'm the verge of something big, I can just feel it. I have to be patient and let it come, but it will, and I'll be able to move on just fine.