2 posts tagged “ritual”
Today I signed the divorce agreement papers.
I was off to one of my favorite gardens to do a version of this ritual, a ritual I thought would be perfect for the fall season, a ritual I so desperately needed. The sky was a brilliant clear blue, the air felt neither too hot nor too cold, a light breeze was blowing. Everything was at peace in my little world and in my little heart and I knew that this day was the day to get it done.
It was really simple--too simple. All I had to do was go to the notary public down the street and sign three copies. People all around me were busy making plans for vacations to India and sending money back home to family in Russia. Laughing, living. The notary asked me what kind of document I would be signing. I whispered, a little choked up: "A divorce agreement". I half expected her to kick me out--to tell me to take my somber business elsewhere. She simple shrugged, wrote it down in her log and asked me for my ID. She didn't notice that my hand shook as I signed. She was busy chatting with her partner.
When it was all over I drove immediately to Brookside Gardens, one of my favorite places. It was hard at first to find a quiet place, a place with enough solitude for me to do what I needed to do. It was the perfect day for wandering the gardens and so the place was packed with families. I told myself that if it didn't feel right I would leave. I stopped worrying about it and let my heart lead.
I walked along the path looking for fallen leaves, gathering a bag. As I walked over the crest of a hill, this tree called out to me. Her roots were like two arms, offering an embrace, a safe place for me to do my work, her weeping boughs offering shelter and privacy. I surprised myself when I said outloud--"This tree is for me". I walked over, touched her bark and settled in her arms.
I took from my bag a few smooth stones and wrote the names of things that weighed me down. I had intended to only write one word but thoughts, phrases, memories all came tumbling out. My stone was full. I had one stone covered in images of Loss, one in images of Want, another in Shame and so on.
And then when I was done, I began to write my fears on the leaves, one by one.
When I was done I said goodbye and one by one thew the rocks into the lake. Then I took each fear one by one. I thanked it for doing its best to protect me but I told it why I didn't need it anymore. I asked it to leave and threw the the leaf into the water and watched the water carry it away.
Some of my fears were old acquaintances. We once were fast friends these fears and me, but now they only popped over every once and awhile. It was time to say goodbye for good, although it really felt more like a formality. We had outgrown each other. But it lightened my load to let them go.
But then, as I sat writing, I discovered there were some fears that really were important to me. These were the fears that most recently did a pretty good job protecting my heart from the threat of more grief and loss and lonliness. These were the ones I most needed to get rid of but saying goodbye to them was like ripping a bandaid off my heart, exposing her to the wide wide world. Walking back to my car I felt lighter yes, more centered, more present in reality but oh did I feel vulnerable too. Truly truly exposed. Like a lobster who had just molted, naked and without armor. But growing...
I drove back to meet Max. We spent the day in the quiet comfort of our neighborhood family. Then I took Max and we drove. I felt the need to just hang out with him but to be out of the house. To be us against the world again. We drove until we found a place to eat and played games and drew pictures while we ordered.
I know that this vulnerability is good. It means that my heart is growing. That letting go of fear makes room for new love, new experiences and new joy. And I am grateful that I have places to go to tend to my heart--my writing, creativity, space with Max, walks in the autumn sunshine.
The rhythm of our life is slowing down now. Its the way of autumn. With the birthday celebrations and the hullaballoo of the start of the new school year behind us, we are settling into the quiet of fall. Tonight I kissed Max goodnight and went through the rituals that he needs to let go of his fears and drift off to sleep. A book, a cuddle, an extra check of the doors. "Yes they are locked my dear. You can sleep now." He is frightened of being alone. I assure him that while I will get up I will be back soon and I will be here when morning comes. He holds my hand as he drifts into sleep.
I find that the days between the Fall Equinox and the Winter Solstice are a time of introspection for me. I find myself turning inward, pulling away into myself a bit. Its a time of reflection and soul repair. I actually feel myself slowing down, becoming less social. I call less, email less, talk less. I am still more. I sit and listen to the noise of the outside, to the house breathing.
And frankly, sometimes I am a bit uncomfortable in this place. I prefer the energy of loud dinner parties, of boisterous giggling, of passing the wine and sharing food. Because it is here in this quiet solitary place I hear my fears speaking to me. And nothing scares me more than fear.
But I am at peace knowing that I am not alone here. While spring seems to be the universal season of renewal, autumn seems to be the time to struggle with fear. As the darkness lengthens we face our demons at Halloween, mark our grief and mourning on el dia de los muertos or All Souls Day, look inward and repent on Yom Kippur. I take comfort in knowing that many souls before me have walked this path and created rituals that allow us to face our fears and then let them go. I am not out of sorts as I drift into myself, no I am just following the anciet rhythms of the season.
Two years ago late in October, I went to Rio de Janiero with my friend Eddie. We had spent the week running a training in Sao Paolo and he convinced me we deserved a trip to the beach. It rained the whole time we were there. One day we both felt the need for some alone time. He hiked along the mountains and the beach while I wandered down the streets of Ipanema, in and out of coffeehouses, bookstores and music shops along the stormy shore. After awhile I realized that my mind had grown completely quiet. I was alone, as alone as absolutely possible--wandering in a foreign country where I didn't speak the language on a rainy day in a city known for its beaches on the opposite side of the globe from almost everyone I loved. I had spent the whole season creating so much noise and activity around me, fearful of being alone, fearful of my fears. But when I sat with them quietly on the streets of Ipanema they became the consistency of mist, and I was able to let them go.
Jen Lemen recently posted about this beautiful ritual to let go of fear and things that weigh you down. I am dying to try it myself. It is all that I can do not to abandon my loved ones and work to drive to the countryside tomorrow. Short of returning to Rio, I think it is the perfect ritual to mark the inward turning season of fall and to face those fears that lurk in the shadows. Because I have a bunch I need to face and then I need to let them go I need to let them slip away like mist so I can rest peacefully in the quiet darkness of the winter.
