As you may know I am hosting my first public grieving ceremony on Friday this week. I attended one up in Findhorn in September and I have borrowed heavily from their amazing layout and altar. One of the things they used as part of an evolving altar were rocks from the beach that formed boundaries and held the space. This morning I didn't have much of a plan for my day except the still small voice within suggested I go to the beach and collect rocks. There are nearer beaches than the one I went to but I was drawn to go there. I could see why when I arrived, the beach had millions of beautiful fat round stones perfect for the job. I smiled at them and asked who was up for the job. There seemed to be volunteers, certain ones started to glow for me. I realised that I was asking a lot of them; to leave their community and anonymity and enter the human world of keening ceremonies! I made an offering to the earth as I plucked my willing volunteers, hugging each one before placing them in a bag. I promise I will return them when their job is done; I feel responsible for them as if they are on my team.
I also went to a local sacred well for water for the altar. I asked the water's permission to take her and I was drawn to not take water from the weed ranked stagnant well itself but from the moving stream that overflowed down the mountainside.
I considered the grief of the rocks and the water; their sacrifice. The rocks lose their anonymity and community to come and be active participants in the holding team for the ceremony. The flowing water lost her motion in favour of becoming a still pool for reflection.
Their losses are our gain; their sacrifice our healing. What they lost in volunteering is replaced by another role, another state, another form. I found this immensely inspiring and helpful in my own understanding of grief.
Blessed are we to have these great beings to help us.
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