JUST PERFECT. PERIOD.

 I draped the red fleece blanket over the back of the "fancy chair" in my living room.  I set up a standing tray next to the chair to hold the gifts. I clipped greens from a fir tree in our yard and arranged them on the glass-topped coffee table, interspersing red votives, aflame.  I prepared white chocolate hand-dipped strawberries on two white platters to add to the table.  

Saturday was a special day for the women in my family -- my granddaughter, her mom, her aunt, and me, her grandma. We gathered to acknowledge and celebrate my sweet granddaughter's first menstrual period.   

First, where did the years go?  And why does this have to happen to girls so young?  I guess I still think of her as my little girl.  But she's not "so young"; in fact, she is right on target for the average age for this to begin.  She and I have been talking about this occasion for some time, as her body has changed in ways signaling the event was soon as hand.  I asked her if I could have a special Family Dinner when she got her period.  "Grandma!  NO!"  We laughed.  Then I asked if I could do a little party for her with just her mom and aunt and me.  She agreed, if not joyfully, also not reluctantly.  She mostly seemed puzzled.  So, this has been on the back burner until a month ago when I got a Messenger text from her -- "I've got some news Grandma....I got my period."  As with most things, she took it in stride, saying she was neither excited nor mortified; "just neutral, I guess."  

I knew I wanted to mark this life transition in a positive and supportive way for her.  We have no cultural recognition of this occasion in the U.S.  I looked it up.  The internet is full of "rituals and customs" from around the world, but totally silent here.  We don't publicly celebrate what happens naturally when kids transition from childhood to puberty; instead, we find ways to tell kids they're growing up by what they can "do" -- get a driver's license, vote, drink, etc.  These are age-related milestones that totally ignore the inner turmoil raging in changing bodies and minds. 

I thought there must be a better way.  We gathered in my living room.  I explained that our intention was to celebrate this amazing life-affirming/life-giving event with joy and laughter, with story-telling, advice, information.  The women of the family told their stories of first periods which had been couched in embarrassment, secrecy, and scant information or instruction. I wanted to do it differently.  We were breaking the pattern of loneliness, confusion,  embarrassment, and silence. We were speaking out, with honesty, emotion, joy, frustration, and encouragement.  My granddaughter took it all in, asking occasional questions, smiling, listening, laughing with us, and being totally composed and engaged.  Her maturity was a thing to behold.  

After we shared our stories, meandering into birth control and pap tests, the latter of which my granddaughter found most appalling of anything she had heard!, I read short blurbs of cultural rituals from around the world, ranging from community parties for the girl in which everyone she knew was told, to girls being banished from the family for the week of her period.  

In the Native culture of the Ojibwe people, a young girl is forbidden to eat strawberries for the first year of her periods.  During this "berry fast" she focuses on personal growth, sitting with and learning from her elders during the week of her periods.  At the end of the year she breaks her "berry fast" and is seen as a leader among her peers.  I especially wanted to include this to also honor my granddaughter's half-Native heritage.  After our time of sharing and "learning from the elders", we all dug into the white chocolate strawberries!  I'd not made her wait a year -- only about 2 hours.  

We ended with each of us telling the honoree what we love and appreciate about her, then offered her a "blessing" saying what we hope for her at this time of her life.  We all acknowledged her generosity, kindness, humor, compassion, and creativity.  And we all wished for her to find her assertive voice in the world, to love and appreciate herself, to know how special she is and never doubt or denigrate her own unique qualities.  And we pledged ourselves to her, letting her know this is an ongoing conversation, not a one-time thing.  As her aunt said, "We've got your back." She took all this in with a smile on her face, never breaking eye contact with the speaker, with a calm composure far beyond her 12 years.  Can you tell I'm so proud of this bright light in my life?

We adjourned to more snacks, waiting for the men to return with her little sister for a pizza supper together.  That's when she and her mom revealed that there had been some trepidation coming into this unknown "thing" Grandma had cooked up.  My granddaughter had told her mom she hoped I wasn't going to do some "voodoo" thing to her.  LOL  I guess I must have freaked her out just a wee bit last summer when I engaged her assistance in doing a "sage smudge" of our camper to "banish the bad juju" I felt there.  Was it when, engulfed in wafting aromatic smoke, we chanted, "out with the evil!  in with the joy!"? Whatever....LOL

There was no Voodoo on Saturday, only the joyful connection of the sisterhood of women in my family.  She messaged me later, thanking me, saying she loved all the love and support.  Just perfect. Period.

At least, that's the view from here...©

RITUAL HEALING

I've been away for a few days; took a respite from the responsibilities of home, from the non-stop political news with which I'm a bit obsessed, and went west -- all the way west -- to the shores of the Pacific Ocean where the bright sun shone down providing welcome autumn warmth, where the long expanse of deserted sandy beach recorded my footsteps, wandering in aimless wonder at the vast and powerful waves crashing into land, and where driftwood logs gave comfort to weary legs as I sat and contemplated the task I was undertaking.

I was not on vacation exactly.  I'd come to a "Mending Our Broken Hearts" retreat.

It's been just over a year since I left my once beloved church home.  I've written about this before:  http://myviewfromhere-donna.blogspot.com/2015/08/stepping-back.html

and especially http://myviewfromhere-donna.blogspot.com/2015/11/end-of-era.html

Every time I thought I was well and truly "over it", something would pop up that would re-ignite the hurt and rage I felt about the whole debacle, or as one friend has termed it, "The Great Unraveling".   More than anything, I longed for peace from the ongoing resentment, hurt, and confusion I felt about what happened and my reaction to it.  I needed so much to put it behind me and move on.

The retreat was a time to create sacred space for doing ritual.  I truly believe in the transformative power of this type of work.  I've done a ton of experiential personal growth work -- beating on pillows or screaming in rage to express a well of inner anger; acting out "scenes" to access deep feelings about incidents in life that still nag, talking to someone to whom things need to be said by imagining them in the chair across from you -- or choosing a volunteer to play the part of the listener or other "actor(s)" in a life drama; doing trust falls, being held in a group cradle, being sung to...

Yes, I know many of you may be laughing and finding it all so "woo-woo" silly.  My guess that most of the laughter and judgment comes from those who have never done it, never experienced the power of intentional healing through experiencing any number and types of rituals that you can feel in your body, healing the heart and the soul.  This is not "talk therapy" where intellectual "a-ha's" may come up..."Oh!  I never thought of that!"  Experiential personal growth work doesn't rely on puzzling your way to insight while sitting on a chair talking.  It shoves you off the cliff, challenged with love and skill, until your heart finds wing.  The relief is palpable, the healing cleansing, the tools gained invaluable.

This retreat wasn't as dramatic as all that, but it was a time for creating ritual and a time to find closure and renewal.   We gathered on Friday, got settled, walked on the beach, spent time in silence.  Then we made a plan for the weekend -- the group created the flow, decided on how the rituals would unfold, set an "agenda" of sorts.  After dinner we began a round of "checking in" by speaking about what we wanted to heal and to leave behind; what were the "stuck, hurt places" still causing us pain.  It was very moving to hear how deeply felt the hurts were.  There were tears, anger, exhaustion.

Saturday morning there was a time of exploring the Enneagram Types -- similar to the more popular Myers-Briggs personality test.  I love these things because they are so accurate in explaining the differences in how people respond to common or shared experiences in such different ways depending upon personality type.  I was able to see so clearly how my own Enneagram Type, my own personality traits, and childhood experiences led me to feel so deeply hurt by what had transpired, why I (and not others) could no longer remain in an environment from which I felt so alienated, and even how my own journey of "leaving" was for reasons often quite different from others who'd also left.  And, I saw that others were not "wrong" to remain, just acting from a different set of basic needs and personality constructs.  (NOTE: Whether great or small, these early emotional "wounds" of childhood never completely go away and continue to inform how we respond to life, ever the more so if we are unaware of or deny them.)

In the afternoon we all set to work creating our "letting go of the past" ritual.  We had brought along things that represented that which we wanted to let go of -- for me it was agendas, emails, reports, lists, rosters, organizational materials, testimonials...lots and lots of written materials.  I cut these into pieces to be burned in our ritual fire on the beach.   In a time of silence we also created a group collage of photos and words that represented that which we were leaving behind.  Attached to this were long pieces of woven yarn, one for each of us, that we would cut, to represent "cutting the cord" to the past.   We gathered up all these supplies and headed to the beach.  A fire was built in a hollowed out place near a large stand of driftwood.  We took turns adding our papers to the fire, sending the work I'd done with so much care and hope into the earth as ash, the flames burning hotter as the fire grew larger.  Some said words appropriate to what they were letting go as they added their own fuel to the fire.


At the end of this burning, we suspended the collage over the fire.  So many images and words there
spoke so strongly to my experience of both the joys and sorrows, the gratitude and grief, I felt toward my church experience that tears flowed as I read the words I'd written, expressing my deep gratitude for my time in that community as well as my deep disillusionment with it.  I spoke of my desire to let go, to move on, and finally to wish the community well as they move into the future too.  Cutting that cord was a profound moment, and almost immediately I felt a sense of release and freedom from the emotions that had been pulling me under for over a year.  I felt my heart soar.

After the fire was put out we spent another hour on the beach, some walking, some sitting in silence, allowing this time in a wild and natural place to continue to heal.  That evening was also a time of individual contemplation, quiet conversation, a time for stargazing as the sky lit up with the Milky Way and familiar constellations, reminding us of the vastness with which we are surrounded.

Sunday morning we lazed about, taking our time over breakfast, reading, laughing, sharing a lightness of heart and spirit.  Then it was time to do the "moving into the future" part of the retreat.  Ironically, I had a led a day-long workshop at my church three years ago called "Creating a Personal Mission Statement" and had volunteered to lead this as part of the retreat.  I condensed it into a couple of hours and facilitated us through the various steps of finding our deepest desire for healing what might be an old wound or longing, writing a "statement of purpose" for our lives, and finally crafting a personal mission statement that one can use as a daily guide to determine if we are living  life with intention -- making the choices and doing the work that truly feeds our soul, keeps us in the flow, and heals the world by healing our own tattered hearts and living our best selves.

By late Sunday afternoon I felt a joyous exhaustion.  I felt happy and light, focused on the future, and relieved that every time I thought about the church and "The Great Unraveling", I felt neutral -- more grateful than angry about my time there; a degree of non-attached curiosity about what would be next for that community; wishing the best for those I still care about who remain there. I no longer felt the tethering pain, anger, humiliation, and shame that has been my emotional response for a year.  I felt rather like thinking about high school; I felt some amusement, cherished some happy memories, and acknowledged some sad ones, but all from a distance -- from a different time in my life.

Sunday night we went out to a casual seafood dinner and then gathered to laugh with abandon at the silly female-centered humor of a movie called "Sisters" with Tina Fey and Amy Poehler.  It felt good to just be goofy.  I slept like a rock and got up Monday morning to pack and say goodbye to the beach, feeling deep gratitude for the experience and eager to drive back to my home and to reunite with  Hub who had sent me off with such gentle and hopeful wishes for a healing journey.  And it was.

At least, that's the view from here....©

PS...Having written this yesterday and just re-reading it, I feel I must add a note to those who I know read this blog and still attend this church.  The "leaving behind" does NOT include friends and those I love.  Those relationships are precious and remain so.  I'm leaving behind the emotions about the  institution, the organization, my time there as a congregant and leader.  In fact, I feel even more tenderness now, after the ritual, for all we shared together.

RITUAL TIES THAT BIND

DD Minus 11.  That's "due date" -- 11 days from today on March 4th.   My beautiful DIL is about to give birth to another baby girl and we are all so excited to meet her!

I was thinking back this morning to when we first met Son One's girlfriend.  In his usual way, often leaving out a pertinent detail, he asked nearly 5 years ago if we'd like to meet the girl he'd been dating "for awhile".  Well, sure!  When she pulled up in front of the house I saw her get out from behind the wheel of her car and....go the the back seat, open the door, and emerge again with a 10-month-old little girl on her hip!  Yep.  Just like that my heart was stolen by our Angel, who is now almost 5-1/2 and is the center of attention at every family gathering.  But soon the spotlight will shine just as brightly on her little sister, about to make her debut.

In preparation for this upcoming new granddaughter, I may have pushed a new idea on to Beautiful DIL, but she graciously went along with it.  I hosted a "Mother Blessing/Baby Shower" for her a month ago.  The truth is, I was more excited to introduce the idea of "mother blessing" than throw a traditional baby shower.  Been there, done that.  But thankfully Son-Two's girlfriend had talked to Beautiful DIL and let me know that some traditional baby shower activities would be most appreciated.  (Son Two also often has to rein in my, what he calls, "hippie tendencies".  Whatever.)

So between us we did a combo.  I started with the Mother Blessing and had all the guests introduce themselves with a maternal lineage naming... "My name is Susie, daughter of Ellen, granddaughter of Kathryn, great-granddaughter of Rose..."  Isn't that cool???  I was surprised and a little saddened at how few even knew their great-grandmother's names.  (I guess our legacy lasts basically two generations.)  We each told how we know Beautiful DIL and named a characteristic of hers we admire.  How often have a dozen of your friends sat in a circle and said what they love about you?  It was a warm and moving tribute.


I had slips of paper where guests wrote "Words of Wisdom" to sustain her in difficult times and they went into an oversized plastic baby bottle I had found as a shower decoration.   We also tied brightly colored threads around a "Friendship Candle" to send home with DIL to burn when she needed to feel our presence.

Each guest also brought items to put in the big basket labeled "Mommy Survival Kit" -- lotions, gift certificates, Tylenol, books, magazines, candy, etc.

We did a "Web of Support" ritual where we tossed a big ball of yarn back and forth across the room, each guest wrapping a strand or two around her wrist to connect us all in the 'web', then cutting the ties, but wearing the yarn bracelet in solidarity until the baby comes.  (I think I'm the only one still wearing the yarn bracelet.   I take these things very seriously. :)  )

When the guests left they were given a small votive to light when DIL goes into labor.

I just loved all that!!!

I also loved the cute game Son Two's GF led us in playing at the baby shower part of the afternoon -- naming all the things that go into a diaper bag and having to remember in order what everyone else had named before adding your own item.  I failed miserably at the memory test.  Then Beautiful DIL opened her gifts.  She was delighted with every item and I was amazed at how generous everyone was and how baby equipment has changed in 30 years!

Son Two's GF handled all the food and drink, for which I was most grateful -- not my thing -- and the biggest hit was the display of cake pops she and Son Two had made!

Ritual and celebration are so much a part of our family life that I take it for granted.  But I am reminded often that what we do so routinely is not the norm for many.  I am grateful that Hub and I have created these ritual ties that bind and that they are appreciated by our sons and their partners.

Maybe "Mother Blessings" will become one of those rituals that are repeated from now on.  I hope so.  It would make my Hippie Heart happy.

At least, that's the view from here.... ©