Barbara Densmore

Happy New Year!  I’ve used this central post space to give you ideas of what a meaningful ceremony can be/do.   As 2010 begins, I’m knee deep in the midst of writing a number of ceremonies.

I’ll have more stories once the ceremonies are delivered.  In the meantime, I’d like to introduce you to some local folks who are at the leading edge of  observing  major life transitions.

Beginnings

This Saturday (Jan 23rd)  is the second “Indie I Do” event in Vancouver.  It’s a one-day showcase of services for people who are looking for original wedding ideas..the first one of its kind in Canada.

Catering to a diverse crowd, Indie I Do promises something for everyone – be it an off beat theme wedding, same sex do, or simply a traditional couple looking to add a touch of their own unique personalities into their event.

If you can’t make it to the event, don’t despair!  Links on the site lead to all  exhibitors.

Ends

You may have heard Paula Jardine, the Artist in Residence at Vancouver’s Mountain View Cemetery on CBC or seen some of her exceptional efforts so far.  Her newest project joins with Vancouver based artists Jan Wade and Nhan Nguyen.  Titled “Altered”, altar pieces and shrines created by the artists will be installed at the grunt gallery.  Corresponding video screenings at the Mountain View Cemetery’s new celebration hall on February 20 will explore cultural histories around Memorial and how we remember.  Info on both here.

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The resurgence of green burials started in the United Kingdom, which opened their first green cemetery in 1993.  Over 200 exist today.

My first initiation to green burial was in the HBO TV series “Six Feet Under”. (looks like the series starts over again on Jan 26).   Grave Matters (fascinating read, BTW) author Mark Harris says:

I’ve long believed that Ball’s fetching view of green burial, which aired on August 21, 2005, did more to sell the idea to the greater public than any newspaper story, newscast or magazine piece at the time.

At the very same time, the Green Burial Council (GBC) was launched – a group from outside the funeral industry formed to educate the public and the funeral industry about sustainable alternatives to traditional burial. It’s making great headway.

Canadian Outreach Director Don Morris has moved to Gibsons, BC and is now heading up GBC’s Canadian efforts.  I’ll keep you updated on his upcoming whereabouts.

Don recently hosted a talk by Stephen Jenkinson, Harvard educated theologian, leading Canadian palliative care educator, spiritual activist and author, featured in the awe-inspiring NFB film “Griefwalker.” Stephen will be offering a 6 day program at Hollyhock later this year:  Homecoming: A Master Class in Living and Dying.

Transitions

A powerful divorce ceremony delivered by my gifted colleague Michele Davidson was featured on CBC’s Tapestry this fall.  You can listen to the clip here. Forward until you get to the ¾ point of the podcast.

The future is here. It’s just not widely distributed yet.

~~ William Gibson (Vancouver Sci-Fi novelist)

Best friends come in all shapes and sizes.  Sometimes they are four-legged.  And their loss can be just as difficult to manage as with someone of the two-legged variety.

Such was the case with Biff, a dog who was memorable in many ways.  When he passed, after a long and colourful life, he was cremated.  And kept.  It was difficult to let go of him, partly because his owner didn’t know how.  A spiritual person, she wanted some kind of memorial service for him, one that honoured him. When she discovered she could have exactly what she wanted, she was ready to scatter his ashes.

Here’s part of the ceremony, as spoken by Biff’s owner:

Love of life.   Love of every part of the day.  The morning snuggle.  Home-made food.  Getting out in nature and thanking God for another day.  Riding in the convertible in the summer.  Burnt orange sunsets in the autumn.  A good towel-off when it’s wet outside.  Meeting and greeting new and old friends. The rustle of the cheese wrapper.  Dessert after main course.  A brush and massage before bed.   And lots of hugs in between.

All simple things.  But not in the least simple.  I believe fully and sincerely that the best things in life aren’t things.  They are people and moments.   I include you in the “people” category because I know you were (and are) are a very old soul…one of the oldest wisest souls I have ever met.  I thank God for matching us up, and giving me the chance to become a much better person.  I will always be grateful for our time together.

I continued a little section, called “Lessons Learned from Biff”:

• You’ve shown that the people we love don’t need fixing…they are just fine the way they are.

• And if someone tries to fix us, it’s ok to love them anyway.  But if they push too hard in the areas that are the most critical, it’s o.k. to give them a little nip…just as long as you let them know that they are still loved.

• You’ve shown that what we do with those we love is not as important as the just being together.

• That when you welcome people well, they want to come over more often.

• And that when people don’t have to worry about being judged, they are safer and happier.

• That when we look back, the simple moments are the ones we treasure the most.

• You’ve demonstrated that real friends are always faithful and consistent; they love you the same way to your face and your back.

• That if you get bitten once, it shouldn’t dominate the rest of your life.

• And that pedigrees and job titles are just bits of paper people need to feel more important, but what they are inside is even more important.

• That mutts and unanticipated guests may add some unpredictability to life, and that’s a very good thing.

• And finally, that there is no greater gift than being genuinely appreciated by someone else.

Bruce Chatwin, author of What Am I Doing Here? writes:  “[Sherpas] are compulsive travelers; and in Sherpa-country every track is marked with cairns and prayer-flags, reminding you that Man’s real home is not a house, but the Road, and that life itself is a journey to be walked on foot.”

The cairns serve  many purposes:  they mark presence, help to guide others coming behind, and often mark a change in direction – a turning point.

One of the turning points on Aaron’s life journey brought him from Toronto to Vancouver.  He aimed to gather a fresh perspective, both about the past and for the future.  After 5 years on the coast, he was ready to return to his home city.

A thoughtful man, he wanted to mark this transition intentionally…to bid farewell to those whose friendship he had come to cherish.  He wanted people to have the opportunity to “share”…food, fellowship, and feelings.  Aaron wanted to both thank people for their support and also to give them the chance to speak as well.

But that’s not always easy in a larger group…1) speaking in public 2) about personal feelings 3) to a group that’s not necessarily familiar can rank up there with root canals and bungy jumping.

The first ritual I designed for the evening gave people a comfortable and meaningful way to be present.  Guests were asked to bring a simple symbol (recycled or maximum value of $2.00) of their friendship/time spent with Aaron.  The concept of sherpa cairns was linked to Aaron’s personal journey: “each turning point in our lives means that we leave behind people and places that have mattered. In turn, we have mattered to people in those places and their lives change as well”. People were invited to build a cairn for Aaron, adding their symbol while describing its meaning.  The process was safe, easy, fun, meaningful and a little tipsy  (the cairn, not the guests..:)

Aaron hadn’t given much thought to what happened after the “good-bye” – when his real journey would begin.  So we added a ritual that allowed people to give him words of support that he could take along with him…sort of a “cheerleader” on paper process.  Again, it allowed people to express themselves in a comfortable way.

Both rituals were easily delivered by a friend of Aaron’s.

The evening’s remnants were easy to pack, and perhaps the lightest and richest were the memories. Because travelling light is always easier, whether it’s a vacation or on the road of life..:)

The wedding ceremony as handed down through the ages assumes that a couple are coming to the union “without attachments.”  Vows of commitment have the implied (if not spoken) pledge to “forsake all others” and to “give the marriage the full attention it will require to root and grow”.

All sound ideas.  But a wedding today is often the start of a blended family. And for the younger set, logic can easily bounce into emotion when you’re watching your parent make big promises to someone else.

First official family portrait

John and Marie were concerned about the kids…Marie’s kids, to be specific.  Being a close family was an absolute for both of them, and they wanted to really “prove” their commitment to them.  So Marie’s four children were included in the ceremony…not the actual wedding portion, but in a family  ritual with vows.

The ceremony was a lively concoction of mixed heritages and faiths (but not too heavy on the “religion”), some traditional components (keep the parents happy) done in a more casual way (their own style), their own much considered vows.  “Bob” music ranged from Dylan to Marley. Stories of their meeting and their relationship made guests laugh with delight.  The couple wanted to be surrounded and blessed by the people they loved.

After their own vows, they invited the children to come forward. The mini-ceremony focused around each child receiving a gold necklace inscribed with the wedding date and the family cheer  (keep reading to find out).  While you can purchase premade family medallions, that was not their choice.  In other situations, a sand/salt ceremony might be a better fit.

Both Marie and John made solemn vows to the kids, addressing some of the issues that might arise.  As they placed the necklace on each child, they avowed:

We pledge to you our continuing love,
and surround you with arms of support,
as together we face a new future,
one in which love has unfolded,
and will continue to unfold before our very eyes.

My closing: And now we are all joined, couple, family, friends and community.  We are all truly blessed.  There’s only one way to complete this celebration…with the family cheer.  On the count of three..

One…two…three…

The room erupted into a boisterous “Go team US!”

Amid cheers and applause, the family danced down the aisle to Bob Marley singing:

Is this love – is this love – is this love -
Is this love that I’m feelin’?

Can you hear that reggae beat?

Rituals help us come to closure when we’ve lost someone.  Often there’s the ritual spark:  “we should plant a tree in his memory”  or “let’s scatter her ashes in this place.”  Then most of us begin to flounder as we look for meaningful ways to make our idea take shape; after all, this is not something we do every day.  As someone said to me recently, “We’ve got the place, date and time.  I’m afraid we are going to be standing there, holding the urn, saying: ‘now what do we do?’”

The gap between “this needs to be really special” and “this is how everyone else does it” can be massive, and it tends to deepen, given our connection to the person we’ve lost. If it’s strong, then we really want to honour that person, to make the ceremony all about them (rather than us). We want a ceremony they would be honoured to attend, if they were still with us.

That was the case with the South End Community Association (SECA).  Their local mentor Gino Sedola passed away in October 2008, but his memory is still very much alive in Nanaimo’s South End.  A Memorial Tree planting made perfect sense. He was a stellar man, and it needed to be a stellar event…a ceremony just like Gino: comfortable, authentic, creative, joyful, and full of good stories.

Rain was expected, so the rituals needed to be designed accordingly.  And given the weather, there was no idea of the numbers that would attend.

On a grey Sunday morning, about 50 people gathered.  They said hello to Gino in their own way.  They heard about a Gino Sedola that few people knew, transported back in time to a vibrant neighbourhood where “Folks said hello. Families connected. Kids played.  Gardens grew.  There was food, wine and song.  And a real sense of community.”

The "younger set" helped move the tree into place

The tree was planted intentionally in steps, with stories shared by a family member, a local dignitary, the SECA chair, and a neighbour.

Everyone attending got the chance to participate in some way. In a delightful turn, the local poet laureate/ street musician pulled out his flute and played a few interludes.

Once we finished planting, I offered this:

“Here stands Gino’s tree.  It will look down Irwin Street, which holds both the roots of his past and his hopes for the future.  It will stand in his place and watch over the neighbourhood he loved.”

While there was lots of warmth and humour in the ceremony, the funniest part, as usual, was unplanned.

At the close, just as we were offering a blessing to thank Gino, someone nearby started a muffler-less truck, revving it mercilessly to warm up the engine.  The last line?  “When we hear the heart of the South End beating – we remember Gino.”  I haven’t laughed so hard in ages. Gino would have loved it.

Post Note: it's not uncommon to see people stopping to "read" the tree or to put the photo back in place after the wind has blown it over.

Giving birth is the one major rite of passage that historically wasn’t observed (vs birth, death, & marriage). Pregnancy and delivery were the private domain of women, closeted at home to protect the mother-to-be from germs & disease, exercise & horseback riding…and if that weren’t enough…in some instances, scandal & disgrace.  (If you’re a ‘Tudors’ fan, this explains how a barren Queen can ‘bear fruit’.)

Elsewhere in the world, many Native cultures were treating pregnancy and childbirth with great ritual. Seen as all part of the human life cycle, women created deliberate circles to welcome mothers-to-be, to honour the emotions they were feeling, and to prepare for the act of giving birth.  The journey into motherhood was seen as life-changing and powerful, full of great reverence and equal fear.

Centuries later, we have drifted miles away from either of these paths.  It’s clear to us today that the threshold into motherhood is a physical, logistical, and emotional journey. And that a good transition contains a solid balance of all three.

The paths today have perhaps been determined more by medicine and mindset than by culture. The movement to return to simpler and more natural ways of giving birth (think midwife/doula) has given us the message that some new mothers intend to enter motherhood deliberately and under their own power.

For some women, the idea not taking that journey solo leads them back to the rituals created years ago in the Native tradition: being surrounded by women who care about you, who will care for you, and will shepherd and support you right through this awe-inspiring time.

One woman asked: "do I have to get pregnant to have a ceremony like this?"

That was the case with Tara, who lives intentionally and treats the earth with great kindness.  Her mother, who recognized a “Mothering Ceremony” as a perfect gift for her daughter, provided the space for 12 wise women to gather.

The rituals, specifically designed for her, prepared her for the transition from carefree maiden to responsible mother.There were heartfelt stories shared about first births, meaningful (and ‘well-meaning’) advice. We celebrated her and her journey. And we made a solid commitment to be there for her before, during, and after the baby was born.

The women who attended would have been there for her anyway, but this ceremony made it intentional. It focused on Tara’s needs, especially the emotional ones that accompany any unknown journey.

Umbilical cord, each colour represented a different key emotion for Tara

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Tara was wearing her birthing necklace as baby Amelie was born.  And we were all wearing our ‘umbilical cord’ bracelets.

Tara described her ceremony as: A truly unique and uplifting experience that honoured my shift to motherhood with the strong and wise women in my life.

The words that came up most from the women who participated were  “meaningful, fun, memorable“  but I especially liked those of Tara’s poetic mother-in-law: “sacred, powerful, and joyful.”