Portable Rituals

Sacred - ‘something to be worshipped, revered or to be found holy, usually in the context of religious experience and in connection to the Divine.

This dictionary meaning lends itself to the idea that the sacred is outside of and beyond us, accessed via  ritualistic practice and usually found in holy sites or objects that represent the one we are searching for. And occasionally (if we are so lucky), it may be found in close encounters with a mystery that goes beyond what can be explained, the kind that stops you in your tracks and reminds you that you are standing on holy ground. 

In my quest to connect with the Divine I have come to believe that I need to honour that same divinity that resides within me, and if I can accept my sacred nature, offering self care and a kind gaze that I desperately want to be the recipient of, then perhaps I will see the sacred in all who are around me more easily. The quality of the relationship with my neighbour, human and non, is actually at the mercy of my ability to offer myself love.  This determines my interaction with another as either being a detached observer-judge, an intensely gazing participant, or something in between. When I learn to like what I see in myself, losing my comparisons and letting my guard down, I have a chance of being able to truly see beauty in everyone, and everything, from a blade of grass to a star studded sky.

Everything takes on a sacred glow. 

When the new moon rises as a slither of silver in the western sky and her brightness pierces through my window waking me with her nurturing beams, I in turn acknowledge and respondwith a ‘hello… it’s you my cosmic friend….thankyou’, and I drop off to sleep again.  Somehow she and all of creation is in awe of me, and I of her.

We both take a bow.

However if the sacred, or divine, is contained within a framework that is neatly prescribed and packaged within a religious doctrinal paradigm, then my connection and experiences are limited to that, and often on a particular day. The meaning of the word religion in different languages varies. Drawn from the Latin ‘religāre’, religion means ‘to tie fast, or bind together’, whereas in Greek it is ‘threskeia’, meaning ‘to worship’, and in French the root word ‘religioun’ means ‘sacred’. Each invokes invitations to a deep connection to the divine, drawn from its particular source. The origins of the words we use are important and deserve to be examined, as much as the way we practice and experience our sacred rituals do. 

If I allow myself to venture off prescribed maps and to explore sacred sites and vista’s that don’t fit within a box, my imagination invites me onto a boundary-less playing field where the sacred can be discovered in all and every nook and cranny of life, in all of my experiences and relationships.

I don’t need to wait until I find myself in a place of worship that is constructed and organised for my connection. Although these places are wonderful and offer a semblance of truth, they do not hold all of the truth. Truth has a subjective nature and is based not just on what I learn, but what I experience along the way, transcending prescribed rituals. Here I can discover and practise my sacred rituals anytime, whatever they might be and from wherever their source is derived. They take on an evolving, moving and portable nature and if they resonate within me and bring me to a place of groundedness, connection and peace, then they are sacred. If it’s good enough for a nation to carry a gold plated wooden box during their pilgrimage in the desert, it’s good enough for me.

It’s almost Christmas, and as I write this I’m reminded that every December I have some very special lilies that come into bloom. These are bulbs that belonged in my step-father’s garden in Otautahi which I carefully dug up a few years ago when he passed, relocating them north to Tāmaki-makaurau and planting them in a spot where I hoped they would flourish. When they open up I bring them inside, give them pride of place  and their heady fragrance reminds me of Christmas and my sacred people and place. There are always some late bloomers, and they get to journey with me in a jar on the drive north to grace our caravan. This is one of my portable ritualistic practices and these are not just a bunch of flowers rather they are a sacred part of me and our connection runs deep. They are the recipients of the small handfuls of compost that come from the bin I generously feed and patiently work and wait for. They hear my voice as I gently water and coax them up and out of the soil prepared for them. They inform me, and somehow form me. We work together, each sacred being encouraging and rewarding the other for their part to play in the celebration of their lives. 

We give thanks, to each other.

What are your portable rituals? May they join you on your journey wherever you go. May you lift them up from prescribed places, beyond the walls and into wide open fields, discovering new ones as you travel. May you carry them in your heart and hands and as you do may you know the connection with the divine who can be found everywhere.  

And this Christmas, may you know peace.

Meri Kirihimete.