Tag: ceremony

PURGING

by Maasaisis

My ego is revolting in a ceremony of resistance and release. I feel the need to purge what must come out, yet it fights to maintain its territory of self-importance. Over the past couple of weeks, I’ve felt the escalating buildup. Yesterday, I was finally able to wail it out.

This wave began with the news of a beloved friend who released herself from her body. Her sudden departure shocked me, and it could have easily sent me spiraling into existential conflict. Yet, I was granted the grace of space, allowing me to recognize the importance of honoring her Spirit. Her light, which can never be extinguished, illuminated this understanding. It’s the very light that exists in me, though I’m still shaking as I hold onto this insight.

This isn’t spiritual bypass, where grief is avoided. Instead, it’s about facing the attachments I hold and allowing grief to show me hidden truths that can either pin me down or heal me. Grief offers a small peephole through which I can choose to look, revealing what I keep hidden—the true source of my suffering and the fears I hold.

As I held space for feeling her loss, I noticed how terrifying it is to confront the impermanence tied to our bodies. We live in a world full of endings, yet we invest so much into holding on. We compromise, manipulate, control, and arrange our external world to dull the overwhelming fear of deep loss that we’re afraid to feel. Although this struggle manifests differently for each of us, I believe the root of all our suffering is our quest for peace that already exists within our Spirit.

For some, peace seems unattainable while in the body. For others, the experience of being in the body becomes the catalyst to discover where it’s always been. Perhaps our individual paths ultimately lead to the same place—a place that is always available and within reach. Aren’t we all striving to return to our indivisible nature, to fill the gap that can only be filled by love—love that encompasses everything and always? Isn’t that what peace is: resting in a place where nothing can be taken away or need to be changed?

The more I question what occupies my mind, the more I become aware of the traps within the labyrinth of my thoughts. As I strive to surrender the meanings I have assigned to the things I cherish, my ego retaliates with ferocity, expressed in my body through pain. I am an apprentice alchemist, learning under the guidance of the Holy Spirit. I feel the stirrings of a revolution of undoing.

What can be understood intellectually must still be alchemized into knowing. This process often requires breaking down the components of what held it together so it can transform into something of value and importance. For me, this breakdown process is extremely painful—a metaphor unfolding in the slow, rotting process of a heightened crescendo, punctuating my five-year saga with my lump.

Undoing this story means waking up to a new one. It’s happening in fits and starts, with many do-overs. My ego wants to fight, and my body is the battleground where this struggle unfolds, intensifying the pain the more I seek solace in God’s peace. It rebels, demanding that I focus on the peaking discomfort that calls me into the darkness. I want to escape, but I won’t find the exit where there’s a fight.

Death and pain are the ego’s most powerful tools for convincing me that all I am is confined to my body. The moment I release this belief, I create space for what exists beyond. Perhaps that’s where we can find the truth we’re searching for. Nothing external can replace what I already possess, though the world tells us otherwise.

A Course in Miracles teaches that peace exists in removing the obstructions to love’s presence. So, I continue to do my best to redirect my attention to finding love, and I often find it easier to access this love outside myself—through the strength of love I have for others. This beautiful distraction offers respite from the attention that pain demands.

The thing about practicing anything is that nothing is permanent while we are here. The light switch flickers on and off within our mortal predicaments. In a world where our peace can be so easily disrupted, I must continue to practice. This practice will look different for each of us, but the shared ground we stand on is our deep desire for peace. I believe we will all arrive there, beyond the space of time and in a place of always.

LESSON: SEEK NOT WHAT YOU WILL SURELY LOSE. CONTENT YOURSELF IN WHAT YOU WILL SURELY KEEP, AND BE NOT RESTLESS, FOR YOU UNDERTAKE A QUIET JOURNEY TO THE PEACE OF GOD. -ACIM

Transcendence Of SMR

by Maasaisis

Why is it that we refer to people in the past tense when the body completes its function? If she becomes a “was” instead of an “is” that means she doesn’t exist. She is no longer expressed through the body that we recognize but it doesn’t mean she went out like a candle flame.

I’m sitting where I can see her face clearly. The veil between the seen world and unseen mystery is tangible. Within the sacred circle of her Beloveds there’s a deep stirring of the ways of the old, like we’ve done this before from a time we don’t remember. We know exactly how to be- perfect in our individual response of letting her go yet united in love. We are at the pinnacle of presence blessing her holy departure.

She’s lying in the centre on a bed of a thousand pedals staring into the eyes of her children. My heart cracks wide open to feel the nuance of all that I’m feeling. I don’t want to pull away from this… I won’t falter to my attachments and crumble. I will all of me to be present with her. I stay anchored to my faith that we go on when our body does not.

I am an open vessel funnelling this profound moment. Ancient circuits are going on line because I know this ceremony. This is how it is suppose to be… Our hallowed anthem of whispers, cries, songs and prayers will carry her onwards and always.

During my time as a doula I welcomed many births. How does such a small being survive the arduous journey to the outside world? How can it be crushed, pushed and pulled without being utterly damaged? I’ve heard that the pineal gland releases huge amounts of DMT also known as the “Spirit Molecule” during birth and death. The tryptamine induces an intense altered state similar to what one would experience at a peak of a psychedelic experience. Perhaps that is why we hear of near-death stories where survivors have profound spiritual experiences and encounters with other worldly beings.

I need to believe that the many Ayahuasca ceremonies Scarlet did prepared her for this ultimate trip.

Scarlet Mary Rose came into my life like an explosion of confetti. We met over 2 decades ago in a college music program. Before Scarlet, I’d never met a woman who could unabashedly, unapologetically, and genuinely express herself. I didn’t know what to make of her except that she was deeply intriguing. She invoked, inspired and provoked parts of me that I didn’t know existed.

Burlesque sounded like something that came out of Timbuktu. I had no idea what it was until Scarlet glorified the art through her fantastical imagination. She captivated me with her vision to empower women and liberate sexuality through creativity- music, dance, twirling titties and gyrating asses-it’s a freedom movement of unbound self expression. She said her nipples would be covered in fancy tape and her vagina always just out of sight. My mind was blown.

Within a year after my diagnosis she got the exact same news. I thought I was solid, I thought I had my fear at bay but she was really afraid and it triggered me big time. I supported her through what I’d learned, I did my best to inspire her to dig deep, but there were days when we were both mentally mangled by our prognosis.

People can love and support you the best that they know how. But unless they are in the trenches with you, there’s no way to grasp the extent of mind fuckery mortality plays on you when it’s knocking at your door. We leaned on each other and respectively gave each other space. We made a pact to be honest with where we are at.

I’ll never forget the day I met her at the hospital after her chemo. She was convinced that the treatments would kill her, that her body couldn’t take the chemical assault. I held onto her like I held onto my own life. “There’s got to be another way”, I said.

Scarlet did find her own way. I witnessed her transcending fear and step into grace. She looked into me as her soul spoke out that she was ready. I instantly let go of my own agenda, my own need for her to keep going… for her not to give up. She wasn’t giving up, she was letting go.

Al and I drove 2 hours to this beautiful, remote, retreat centre to send her off. It’s important for us to be here for Scarlet but for us as well. We don’t talk about my health as long my cues are affirming that all is well. But, the “what if” is still in the periphery and now we are facing it with Scarlet. Somehow we know that there will be healing by being close to what we don’t want to think about.

“See the wood this ceiling is made out of? ” Scarlet says. “I bet my grandpa milled it because it’s the kind of wood only he milled at the time. My ancestors are here.” I am savouring every word she says. I’m collecting every opportunity to take her in before she goes. I tell her I love her. She holds me and whispers “when it’s time just let go”.

Scarlet is holding court before her departure. She is singing a duet with a Beloved on the piano and it’s the performance of her life. I’m sure her voice is opening the portal to the place where she is going. The last line of the song is “let me die” and we all crack open some more.

I’m keeping a firm eye on her. What if she changes her mind? What do I do if she does? Scarlet’s reliving the highlights of her burlesque career. She’s bringing in her Beloveds who couldn’t be there in person through her stories. There’s tales of glitter bombs, big balls and her cowgirl burlesque act as Rosy Rawhide. We are laughing, singing, crying and celebrating. All the while she is leading the way- there’s no apprehension, no fall back, she is set on her trajectory and ready for takeoff.

“I’m gonna smoke this joint and then we’re gonna go” she claimed. This is it… and we all know it. We walk in a sacred procession to the place where her body will be left behind.

My mind is trying to keep up with the magnitude of what is actually happening. I am straining my eyes to see beyond the wet curtain of tears. I will not miss the holy instant of her spiritual metamorphosis. I feel her leave.

We are taking turns revering her brilliance. It feels like we are suspended in space existing between here and where-ever she is. The men leave and several sisters stay to wash her voluptuous, porcelain body. I am singing as I wash her breast with the scar from her surgery. It is deeply healing for me to be so intimate with her scar that’s akin to mine. I am at peace entranced by her beauty- She’s a renaissance woman blazing the path to always.