Following our Open Spirit presence at the Wood Sisters Winter Festival, another small step in this resurrection process was taken during Holy Week. Inspired by Mary Magdalene and Maundy Thursday, I and soul friend, Helen Sands, invited a group to join us for a collaborative ceremony at my home during Holy Week.
Helen had found encouragement in Clarissa Pinkola Este’s book ‘Untie the Strong Woman’ and we both drew inspiration from Cynthia Bourgeault’s writing on restoring the sacrament of anointing. So within our afternoon we wove together bible passages from John’s Gospel, of Mary anointing the feet of Jesus and Jesus washing the feet of his disciples, with some beautiful original poetry written by Helen.
Our vessel for the afternoon was drawn from the collaborative communion pattern that we have used in many Living Spirit groups over the years. So we began to gather together physically in Dartington and gathered ourselves inwardly and drew together spiritually as a group by lighting a central candle and settling into some silent meditation.
Moving on to engage with some sacred teaching, I offered some thoughts on the meaning of this spiritual season, drawing upon pagan reflections on the Spring Equinox, Jewish teachings about Pesach/Passover and the Christian inspiration of Holy Week. It was a blessing to have members of all these spiritual traditions within the group, who added their own insights and experience, such that this was very much a sharing of collaborative wisdom.
Helen then added her reflections on the Gospel passages with her poetry and passed around some beautiful images including a carved detail of Mary anointing the feet of Jesus and paintings of Mary at the foot of the Cross by Giotto and others.
Much as I’d love to include all of Helen’s writing, I’ll share just the shortest piece here:
At the Foot of the Cross
My sisters sit like ancient stones around his slumped body, ancient, eternal, as if in memory they have mourned every death since the beginning of time. Rooted they sit, wailing, weaving the cloth of keening into his shroud.
Mary his mother embraces his head, his shoulders. The weight of him is in her lap. She will never let him go from her gaze, her embrace.
I sit at his feet. I hold them, one in each hand. Stone cold. Shocking. Both feet broken, pierced through by nails, bloody and torn. Never to tread the earth again.
Rocking gently to and fro, all I can do is hold them. From my heart the oil will come to anoint him. I have nothing else. From my heart, this tide of pain and of my tears. Anointing.
After a space for everyone to contribute their own responses, thoughts, feelings and experience, we moved on to share our own washing and anointing ceremony. The group formed in pairs and each pair found their own sacred space either in the house or outside in the garden. Then we quietly took it in turns to wash and dry each others feet and then anoint them with fragrant oil, including the option of spikenard oil (or nard) as mentioned in the Bible.
This was a very deep experience of communion, of a sacred giving and receiving that really felt touched by both a very personal and a transpersonal love. It felt especially meaningful to meet in such a sensual and embodied way and for this to be happening within the greater holding of nature, beneath the sun and the trees, on the good earth in the garden.
Our afternoon concluded as we joined back together in a circle to share our reflections on the ceremony and to bless each other through singing together and pray that blessings would flow through us into our families, communities and the world. In the spirit of death and rebirth, slavery and freedom, loss and love and the re-balancing the masculine and feminine that had woven through the afternoon, we sang Down to the River to Pray, which was first published in ‘Slave Songs of the United States’ in 1867 with the following lines:
As I went down in de valley to pray,
Studying about dat good old way,
When you shall wear de starry crown,
Good Lord, show me de way.
O sister let’s go down,
let’s go down, let’s go down,
O sister, let’s go down,
Down in de valley to pray.
Our version, following this inspiration, went on to include brothers, mothers, fathers and more…and the day ended in a final agape feast of tea and home made cake. With heartfelt thanks to all who joined us.
We had a wonderful time at the Wood Sisters Winter Festival!
As joint festival co-ordinator it was also a very full time… but after months of admin it felt very special to finally focus on my own creative offering for the day and set up the sanctuary with my friend, Miriam, in a beautiful space at the South Devon Steiner School.
There are many magic moments and also challenging ones during a festival, especially when one is holding the overall event, holding a venue within it and offering sessions within both the wider event and the venue – it’s a great opportunity to be big and also to let go at moments and receive and be held by others and to feel held oneself by something bigger still.
Here is a glimpse of some personal highlights:
One: There’s a quiet moment in creating sanctuary space; after a lot of heavy lifting and moving furniture, a great draping of cloths and distribution of everything from flowers and candles, to paper and wax crayons. There’s a Sabbath moment of completed creation, after the candles are lit and before everyone arrives, a moment to step back and see that it’s good and to sink into silence and an opening of the heart which prays wordlessly that this may be a sanctuary for all that enter here, a place of peace, of authenticity, of healing, of spirit.
Two: Walking away, letting go and leaving Miriam to welcome the first Sanctuary visitors – that’s a good gesture to begin the day… to co-create and then let go and let be. Feeling deep gratitude…
Walking in then to the Opening Ceremony and being swept into the dance of winter into spring, of Cailleach and Bride. I’m mesmerised by the giant puppets as they dance together around the central altar with its circles of candles, greenery, snowdrops and a small spring pool – as Sue and I speak the words of an ancient story and invite all present to place their wishes and blessings in the central pool.
Three: After the ceremony I join as a participant in Ian and Gail’s exploration of the spirituality of Imbolc and Candlemas. What a blessing it is to receive their reflections and Ian’s poetry, to feel held and guided in meditation and have someone else watch the time and the group dynamics during an invitation to share with my neighbour, so all I have to do is share and listen – bliss!
Four: I come back into stillness and peace in the Sanctuary with gentle lyre music playing. Then into the rhythm of a day of guiding meditation, trance telling and holding collaborative ceremony. Mostly the space is very full and there’s beauty and depth but not necessarily silence! Heavy duty colouring, whispering children, background strands of music, voices and laughter are all woven into sacred space.
Five: For me there’s always interesting moments in holding sanctuary… how to make sure children are free to light prayer candles while not setting themselves or anyone or anything else alight. How to pitch the words of a guided meditation over an enthusiasm toddler settling in for a long stint of using a hole punch, on a wooden table, for her prayer card. How to simply be deeply present as people come and go and weep and sleep and are hurt and angry and full of joy and love and…
Six: Magic moments as other artists and priests come in to offer stories, music and more. I get to sit back and watch children entranced as Iwan and friend transport us to other places and times… and I am washing along with everyone else by Abigail’s beautiful harp music during ceremony and inspired by Debbie’s steady voice and words during our shared trance telling.
Seven : The day draws to a close and the open sanctuary time is finished. I’m back in the silence after a day of creation, with the candles burning in the evening darkness now and it’s good to feel the fulness of all the living and sharing that’s unfolded here and to feel that fulness of the heart that wordlessly gives thanks and wishes blessings upon all at the Festival and beyond…
And at the last I return to receiving, joining the audience for Carolyn Hillyer’s soul stirring music and words. I’m travelling with her in imagination to the Far North and joining in the passion of songs to herd the reindeer. Then there’s a final moment as Sue, Victoria and I step forward into the dark, mysterious space beyond the light pool of performance, to thank all the artists and volunteers and visitors, all those hundreds of people that have gathered with us to co-create this incredible day.
