 | Earth Ritual: A Personal Approach by Susan Meeker-Lowryposted by Susan Meeker-Lowry, Exclusive AccessThursday, September 3rd 2009 @ 2:27 PM (not yet rated) |
The purpose of ritual is to wake up the old mind in us, to put it to work. The old ones inside us, the collective unconscious, the many lives, the different eternal parts, the senses and parts of the brain that have been ignored. Those parts do not speak English. They do not care about television. But they do understand candlelight and colors. They do understand nature.
- Z Budapest
When I think about ritual, a whole range of images come to mind: Ancients in robes slowly winding their way into the standing stones of Stonehenge in the early dawn of the summer Solstice. Praying in the sweat lodge as more cedar-infused water is poured on the sacred rocks, breathing in the hot steam, grateful for every sensation, pleasant or not. Again back in time . . . lighting the Beltane fire, gazing about the landscape as other fires are lit, one by one. A spiral dance under an eclipse of the full moon surrounded by ancient cedars under a star-filled sky. A solitary woman, arms outstretched toward the East, welcoming the day. A childhood memory: The priest at Sunday mass, blessing the Host, holding it up for all to see while prayers perform the miracle of changing the Host into the Body of Christ, then he blesses a chalice of wine, again holds it up for all to see -- it becomes the Blood of Christ. The steady beat of the drum, other drums added, following the wave of rhythm until vibration is all that exists. In and out, fast then slow then fast again, all participating, all creating in the moment until the moment is played out and the beat stops, but is still present in the silence. Passing through the gate at the Chalice Well, leaving the mundane world behind to enter the garden and be blessed by the sacred water from Blood Spring.
In ancient times, when the stars, moon, and sun were seen as mysterious and often capricious beings, rituals were conducted to maintain the balance -- between light and dark, human and animal, male and female. They marked important cyclical events like the changing of the seasons, and helped assure successful hunts, voyages, etc. What ancient and tribal peoples lacked in what we call scientific knowledge, they more than made up for with a deep understanding and respect for the web of life, for the whole of Creation. Rituals conducted at specific times for specific reasons honored and maintained these relationships.
In one of my favorite articles (“What is Native”, Orion, Winter 1998) David James Duncan writes about the Colombia’s Makuna tribe, a contemporary band of neolithic people who “live in a way that dissolves the Industrial World’s usual compassionless split between nature and culture . . . between animals and people . . . between bad daily work and good daily beliefs.” The Makuna believe that the creation process is ongoing, that the world is still being created, that “our words and actions still determine the nature of the hills and forests, still help create, sustain, or destroy the animal, fish, and bird people.” They also believe that we share a spiritual essence with all species and that this oneness “is the source of an enormous obligation” and if we fail to make appropriate offerings of “spirit food”, if we do not share, spiritually, with the other species, they die.
Similar beliefs were (and are) shared by indigenous cultures the world over. Duncan writes about the elaborate gifts, dances, and feasts the Natives of the Pacific Northwest offered each year to ensure the safe arrival of the chinook salmon as they made their annual migration up the Columbia River from the Pacific to British Columbia. We can chuckle at such “primitive” ideas, label them as nothing but superstition. “But”, Duncan writes, “what industrial man offered the June chinooks instead was Grand Coulee Dam. And now those beautiful salmon are extinct. Is there some primitive i.e., primary i.e., essential wisdom we’re over-looking that could prevent the extinction of what remains?”
Ritual is about consciousness, about being aware of what is going on and connecting with it. Whether simple or complex, a ritual is a weaving of prayer, song, blessings, intent. Ritual dissolves the boundaries between body and spirit, human and nature, intellect and soul. It opens the heart and allows energy to flow. Ritual is also about power -- honoring it, respecting it, and working with it. Not the negative, power-over kind of power, but the power of Earth, of Gaia -- of life. Some rituals, more elaborate and proscribed, are like sacred pageants. But even the simplest acts can be transformed into ritual with conscious awareness and intention.
The Welcoming Ritual
Each spring before I begin seriously working in the garden, I do a ritual to invite the Nature Spirits, Devas, bees of all types, worms, fungi, birds, snakes . . . into the garden. The first year I did this it was a spontaneous thing, but the energy felt so good, the spirits obviously appreciated my effort and so I have done it every year since. It’s a very simple thing, really. I open the gate, enter the garden and place the Goddess statue on the flat center rock that is surrounded by a small circular garden bordered by stones. This year will be especially wonderful because I brought back a hand-carved, marble Goddess statue from Greece, which has special meaning for me. Then I offer a prayer to the Four Directions. I slowly walk the paths, greeting the perennial herbs and flowers just pushing new shoots up through the still-cool soil. I invite the garden spirits into the space and promise to listen for their voices and heed their advice. I welcome the insects and offer my love to the bees and worms and other friends of the garden and promise that I will take care not to harm them. I thank everyone for the honor of working with them over the next few months. When it feels right, I can then begin working the soil and planting the first early spring seeds. I do a simple version of this each morning as I enter the garden for a few hours work. I have no doubt that this Welcoming Ritual has something to do with the magical quality of my garden, and the presence of devas and fairies (that I sense rather than actually see).
Hearing the Voices in the Wind
About fifteen years ago I found this poem, translated from an ancient text called the Arthavaqueda, in an issue of the Institute for Noetic Sciences magazine. It was a magical gift. A prayer:
If there was something in the air
If there was something in the wind
If there was something in the trees or the bushes
That could be pronounced
and was once overheard by animals
Let this sacred knowledge be returned to us once again.
Whenever I feel the need to become one with the Earth, to let go of boundaries, to hear the voices of the trees, I make a ritual of this prayer. In the field behind my house facing the mountains; or on a large boulder as the Swift River rushes around me; or on the ocean shore; or at the temple of Apollo at Delphi, I stand tall, stretch my arms out and up opening my heart to whatever Gaia choses to give. I circle slowly, greeting the directions, the elements, all the creatures of Earth. Then I chant the prayer over and over, circling as I’m so moved until the wind comes and rustles the leaves and branches of nearby trees and bushes. Chanting, chanting as the voices of the trees and the wind move around and through me and the tears flow with the immensity of emotion and power.
When I’m outside, this ritual never fails to raise the wind. If the day is already windy, it becomes stronger. And always I feel renewed, my connection to Gaia strengthened. And my belief in magic restored.
