In certain circles, people will talk about “doing the work.” And we throw that phrase around, and we make the assumption that everybody knows what we’re talking about, but the truth is not everybody does…If I had to define it, I’d say it’s actually got three parts to it, at least as far as I see it: listening, feeling, and reclaiming…
Category: Ceremony
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Maybe it was ten years ago; maybe it was a little bit longer. I was starting to get the call to step away from the 9-5 world, and into all of this…
I have a teacher who’s fond of saying, “I have a gift, but the power is not mine,” and I make no claims to anything.
All I know is this: If you can find what it is you’re truly here to do, and walk that out into the world; let it shape you, and let it carry you, then that’s just not a gift for you…
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When faced with the suffering or ill health of another person in need of prayers or some more immediate form of support, the most caring among us will frequently – perhaps even reflexively – offer to hold space for that individual.
Our hearts might be in the right place, but sometimes our efforts fall short of our intentions, and after a quick prayer, or maybe a phone call or two, we step back and continue on with our lives. That’s fine, of course, if they’re only asking for minimal involvement on our part. But if they’re not, how do we know if we’re really up to the task?
Another way of viewing this is through the lens of “bearing witness”. Typically, this is understood as recognizing the person’s affliction. But how often are we actually willing to go beyond that simple act of recognition and to meet the person where they are, so that we might be able to provide them with the support they really need, instead of what we ourselves deem appropriate?
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Yesterday, we gathered for a ceremony in the back yard while most of the rest of the civilized world 9-5’ed. As is generally the case whenever we get together, our focus quickly turned to the state of the world.
Our conversations are usually free-form and heavily seasoned with laughter and wry observations. That’s not to say our ceremonies are unstructured or lack direction. The form is there, though largely marbled through the meat, instead of plastered over it like a cast. There’s a necessary sacredness in coming together with laughter, especially in a world which seems to base so much of its existence upon cruelty, greed, conflict, and fear.
Eventually, we got around to the topic of peace, and how we might bring a little more of it into the world. As a great deal of our work is based upon the Medicine Wheel – or at least the version presented to us in the teachings of Grandfather Joseph Rael (aka Beautiful Painted Arrow) – I attempted to approach the question from this perspective.
The path of the Wheel begins in the East, with the rising of the sun. From there it follows the sun through the sky as it passes into the South, West, and North.
Agriculturally speaking, the East is where the seed is planted.
In the South, the garden is tended. It’s a time of expectation and uncertainty. Will there be too much rain or too little? Will the temperatures run to extremes? Will there be enough food for us all come the harvest? Will we have to deal with insects, deer, or rabbits?
In the West, the questions fall away, and the results are gathered in. We fill the cupboards and begin the necessary preparations to take us through the winter.
In the North, the long, dark time of howling winds, warm fires, and taking stock of the past year’s endeavors, we sustain ourselves on whatever we’ve put aside. If we planted good and healthy crops during the spring, that’s what will feed us as the snow piles up and the windowpanes rattle. If, instead, we’ve planted weeds and thorns, then that will be the source of our nourishment for the winter.
Perhaps, then, the process of peace begins with asking what we’d like to feed ourselves and our loved ones with and simply planting it. We can’t transform the crops once they’re in the ground, but we can learn to pay attention to the seeds we’re sewing.
It’s a blessing to have these things in our lives: fruitful and light-hearted conversations with the Elders of our tribe, an afternoon to sit and write after a morning of errands, pruning the squash vines, and removing the surface rust from a jointer.
Maybe this is how we sew a little peace into our corner of the field…
Bonja the Bodger 