When I was in my 30's.....
....which seems a lifetime ago (or maybe three or four lifetimes)
I read an article on the loss of ritual as a tool for guiding passages in our lives.
As a child I would become upset at our 'holidays', having gotten some schooling in the origins of them, because the adults seemed to miss the point. There was no time taken to acknowledge the WHY of the celebration.
....and as the child...I felt I had no voice or language to speak up...and so I would hold the meaning deep in me...vibrating through me...."I" at least knew what it was and somehow...I would hold that intention like a secret that I knew....that the ritual of celebrating the day was more than the food and the people doing whatever...it was the glue that held us all together. It gave me meaning.
Back to my 30's....
I felt the lack of support for women as growing beings of complexity and change. I read many books seeking the way to create ritual for myself...even when once again I did not have the voice or language to express to others the aching in me for connection to something unseen and yet unifying and vital.
The article talked about all of that....and women gathering to celebrate the passages of each other....girl to woman, woman to mother, mother to the crone (I prefer Sybil, the Seer).
I felt at last that someone else was thinking and feeling as I did...and other women seemed to be gathering for something more than gossip and a coffee clutch (antiquated term)
....my life turned sideways...or upside down...or spinning wildly out of control (I admit it freely...I've always been a bit of a control freak...about some things)
.....and having had the rituals of washing his body
.....moving through the business of what is left, when the person is gone, for the ones left behind to manage
....a Celebration of Life...because I wanted to celebrate who he continues to be in OUR lives now...not look backwards at what was....I still refuse to call it a memorial.....
The day to day to day of living without him....
The slogging through the moment to moment of this muddy water....grief clutching at my feet....making the movement forward arduous and painful as I am sucked back with each step.
"Two steps forward and one step back
I may be slow but I'm on the right track..."
....says the lyrics to one of my songs
I seek more ritual
"Letting David go..."
I sense that I have been participating in little rituals all along
More on this soon......
This is today