| Rituals and the Sacred |
Liminal Landscapes
| A portal for dimensional living |
There is a wonderful quote by Somerset Maugham; “It’s easy to be a holy man on top of a
mountain.” How utterly true is that? I think often if I could just control my manic mind, I
could find my reservoir of peace. Well, guess what? That is just not going to happen when I’
m late for work, while I’m changing a diaper or just generally in a snarky mood. But what
can happen is I can practice to enable making my way toward that oasis in myself as often
as I can remember to do so. Life as we know it is just not set up to help us with this task
so it is really up to us to forge ourselves there (or as my friend Russ always says, “color me
there”) and give our internal selves a hand in creating those mountains and letting our inner
holy men sing.
I am such an advocate of ritual, not necessarily tradition, but ritual that lets us have a
chance to be or at least act holy. Sometimes things aren’t sacred and you just have to make
them so and this process when you take your whole self to it and through it can make the
living part, including the being late to work and the changing diapers more part of the entire
gig and not something to tick off, like one’s palm-pilot version of your life.
At one stage many years ago, when the onslaught of both my spiritual and professional
pursuits were demanding too much from me, I started, first thing in the morning, lighting a
tealight, in my kitchen. It was a simple and modest affair, with this sole tealight on my
counter lit by the same lighter I used to start the pilot for my morning coffee. Just this
gesture became purposeful in its repetition and its simplicity. Eventually it took on a dignity
of its own. When I lit the candle I used that moment to remember that the light was me
and that I used my talents during the day to honor and share that light. It served as such
an anchoring effect that the business of my day became more manageable and so much
more purposeful.
Later I moved to Australia and outside Sydney, actually way outside Sydney, in the bush in
an area called Wollombi, I found a group of dedicated people, a community or ashram of
sorts who practiced an ancient Vedic ceremony called Agni Hotra.
These lovely people built a custom wood structure of a specified polygonal shape with an
opening in the roof, room enough for 10 people to sit on the floor around a rock platform,
which held a square copper pot. The ceremony requires dried cow dung (I kid you not…from
organic cows) and clarified butter or ghee. At the moment of sunrise and sunset the fire is
lit, a Sanskrit prayer is chanted and several grains of rice are tossed into the fire. The
alchemy of the chanting and the burst of energy that happens at these liminal times of day
is incredibly purifying and has been known to heal people, plants and animals alike.
But the point of this tale is that the pilgrimage to perform this ceremony with others who
honored themselves and the benefits of doing this for the earth was so moving for me that I
started performing it myself. Now that I have moved back to the states, organic cow dung is
difficult to get hold of, and in some cases is some expensive “shit”, but worth it. I have
since conducted the ceremony on balconies in Sydney and Tokyo as well as in my backyard
in Phoenix, AZ. It is a gesture so outside my normal routine that this in itself makes it feel
holy. When I chant and burn cow dung I am transported to a place when seers did the same
thousands of years ago and I tap into the intention of honoring something not only larger
than myself but more mysterious.
Inviting ritual into your life with even a small gesture will slowly begin to center you in your
life.
At the full moon Lorri says a prayer, uses that night to wash her crystals with moonlight as
she rededicate her energies to the earth. Wendy carries rosary beads with her and worries
them with her fingers when she is in need of Angelic assistance. Will meditates every
morning tuning into his higherself while Anna lights the incense on her alter before her first
cup of coffee begins to brew.
Creating a personal ritual is easy. Remember the important thing is to discover what is
important for you to honor and make it a ritual. The gesture could include candlelight, a
prayer, a specific place either inside or out, could include water for purifying or incense for
celebration, or could include textiles or icons obtained in faraway places. Nothing is, unless
you make it so with intention.
If you have an extra minute read this delightful story of a man whose ritual entails feeding
monkeys.
mountain.” How utterly true is that? I think often if I could just control my manic mind, I
could find my reservoir of peace. Well, guess what? That is just not going to happen when I’
m late for work, while I’m changing a diaper or just generally in a snarky mood. But what
can happen is I can practice to enable making my way toward that oasis in myself as often
as I can remember to do so. Life as we know it is just not set up to help us with this task
so it is really up to us to forge ourselves there (or as my friend Russ always says, “color me
there”) and give our internal selves a hand in creating those mountains and letting our inner
holy men sing.
I am such an advocate of ritual, not necessarily tradition, but ritual that lets us have a
chance to be or at least act holy. Sometimes things aren’t sacred and you just have to make
them so and this process when you take your whole self to it and through it can make the
living part, including the being late to work and the changing diapers more part of the entire
gig and not something to tick off, like one’s palm-pilot version of your life.
At one stage many years ago, when the onslaught of both my spiritual and professional
pursuits were demanding too much from me, I started, first thing in the morning, lighting a
tealight, in my kitchen. It was a simple and modest affair, with this sole tealight on my
counter lit by the same lighter I used to start the pilot for my morning coffee. Just this
gesture became purposeful in its repetition and its simplicity. Eventually it took on a dignity
of its own. When I lit the candle I used that moment to remember that the light was me
and that I used my talents during the day to honor and share that light. It served as such
an anchoring effect that the business of my day became more manageable and so much
more purposeful.
Later I moved to Australia and outside Sydney, actually way outside Sydney, in the bush in
an area called Wollombi, I found a group of dedicated people, a community or ashram of
sorts who practiced an ancient Vedic ceremony called Agni Hotra.
These lovely people built a custom wood structure of a specified polygonal shape with an
opening in the roof, room enough for 10 people to sit on the floor around a rock platform,
which held a square copper pot. The ceremony requires dried cow dung (I kid you not…from
organic cows) and clarified butter or ghee. At the moment of sunrise and sunset the fire is
lit, a Sanskrit prayer is chanted and several grains of rice are tossed into the fire. The
alchemy of the chanting and the burst of energy that happens at these liminal times of day
is incredibly purifying and has been known to heal people, plants and animals alike.
But the point of this tale is that the pilgrimage to perform this ceremony with others who
honored themselves and the benefits of doing this for the earth was so moving for me that I
started performing it myself. Now that I have moved back to the states, organic cow dung is
difficult to get hold of, and in some cases is some expensive “shit”, but worth it. I have
since conducted the ceremony on balconies in Sydney and Tokyo as well as in my backyard
in Phoenix, AZ. It is a gesture so outside my normal routine that this in itself makes it feel
holy. When I chant and burn cow dung I am transported to a place when seers did the same
thousands of years ago and I tap into the intention of honoring something not only larger
than myself but more mysterious.
Inviting ritual into your life with even a small gesture will slowly begin to center you in your
life.
At the full moon Lorri says a prayer, uses that night to wash her crystals with moonlight as
she rededicate her energies to the earth. Wendy carries rosary beads with her and worries
them with her fingers when she is in need of Angelic assistance. Will meditates every
morning tuning into his higherself while Anna lights the incense on her alter before her first
cup of coffee begins to brew.
Creating a personal ritual is easy. Remember the important thing is to discover what is
important for you to honor and make it a ritual. The gesture could include candlelight, a
prayer, a specific place either inside or out, could include water for purifying or incense for
celebration, or could include textiles or icons obtained in faraway places. Nothing is, unless
you make it so with intention.
If you have an extra minute read this delightful story of a man whose ritual entails feeding
monkeys.
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