Living My Life Like It's Golden, Pt. II: Sacred Ritual - Page 2

After a quick self-tour of the grounds, I unpacked my bag, fixed my mother's picture so it was overlooking me from the headboard, and settled down to finish the last 20 pages of Of the Water before the workshop began at 7pm. Those are the pages in which he conveys the outcome of his initiation, and I felt they might give me some clues in what to expect, which is why I sort of felt like it was cheating. In his telling, he notes how the elders insisted that the less he know about what might happen to him, the more effective—and less dangerous—the process would be. Too much knowing ahead of time engages the analytical brain instead of the instinctive center of wisdom, i.e. working intuitively from within. Part of me wanted to go into the weekend oblivious to the possibilities and part of me wanted to be as prepared as possible. I went for my comfort zone—preparation.

The evening was quite chill. I threw on a sweater and hopped into the bed, settling down to finish Somé's story. That's when I discovered that the book had vanished. Disappeared. Some might call it "lost," though when's the last time I've lost a book? I thought back on the day—Gratitude, my apt., the bus, Buckeye. At each, I'd had the book. I'm certain of it. But somehow it was gone, and appropriately so. So began the unknown. Shocked but not shocked, I fell asleep again.

I dreamt strange dreams before awaking to the clanging gong that announced meal service. The dining hall was just across the way. There I made first contacts with some of the other participants as well as mixing with the Zen temple residents. Silence is observed for the first ten minutes. We newbies tried to be respectful, but I spied whisperers and twiterers scattered about the room and knew they were my fellow initiates. We introduced ourselves and surrepticiously sized one another up. At my table was Steve, a teacher from Virginia. I believe he came the furthest though later I met a children's author and his teenage son, both from Royal Oak, Michigan. I sat next to a woman who is a healer who works with the homeless population and across from a woman with spiritual beliefs that led her to the workshop.

The workshop was held in a yurt on the Zen Center's grounds. About 30 people were signed up, of which a handful were men. The youngest participant was the aforementioned teen, but I'd guess most people ranged from late 20s to early 60s. I may be being slightly too generous on both ends of those numbers. I don't believe I saw any Asians, one or two Latinos, and I was one of four blacks (three women including myself and one man). Many of the participants, but certainly not all, were affilitated with IHH, meaning that many are healing arts practitioners such as masseuses or accupuncturists or Western medical professionals with an interest in integrative medicine. The IHH librarian was there as well.

Article Author: mpho

Visit mpho's author page — mpho's Blog