Rites of Passage

Just spent the weekend chanting, drumming, rattling, dancing with Marcelo Lobos at Kripalu, in the Sacred Passages workshop.

Coming home is always interesting - I was in a peaceful state, a kind of 'zone', driving through the mountains with blazing red and yellow colour along the road, with my friend Debra. Then I arrived home to an empty house - everyone had gone out to a hockey game, and left me a note. I noticed the spaghetti sauce I had made was still in the fridge, so I prepared some noodles and ate, before listening to a new CD I'd bought there and falling asleep.

It was a rite of passage weekend for my son, turning 18, and three parties later (Friday night until 4 a.m. at our home) he had a very gravelly voice over the phone when I called on Saturday. My daughter, 16, was even allowed to participate in the party, and all his friends loved her. (News for my son, your sister is a cool person to hang out with!)

So he was drinking, dancing and partying - and I was chanting, drumming and celebrating my womanhood. There were 30 women there, forming a circle, holding the space for each other as we entered the spiral, or danced our darkness away in the fire, or bathed in the lake to wash the past away and welcome the present moment, as well as the future. We dressed up, put make-up on each other and acted 'silly' in some of our old 'mother voices' opinion. We danced until we dropped at 11:30 p.m., after a full day of ceremony. We birthed a new self, said good-bye to an old way of being. We entered the birth spiral to be transformed. And it was good.

We hugged and said good-bye on Sunday, with sparkles on our skin and lavender scenting the room. We thanked Marcela and her helpers for providing the sacred space and the structure to hold us safely as we journeyed. It was very simple, much lighter than I imagined it would be, the warmth of laughter and tears and women's faces holding me up. It was exhausting to dance and sing all day, but how liberating!

And so, back to the home, the cooking of meals, the washing of clothes, the keeping of sacred space inside this smaller circle of four. I feel different. I feel closer to the seasons, to the fall, to mother earth, pacha mama. I feel more. And that's a blessing.

happy new year to those celebrating Rosh Hashanah,
musemother