Since we last met…
(musings) with Karen Abi-Karam, Issue 4
I turned 52 last week. I took the day off – I always do – but it was a simple affair. The occasion was marked with lovely messages from family and friends, copious contributions to my holiday reading material (for September) and lunch à deux at a local favourite. All very low-key.
The day was lovely, but in the run up…and since…I found myself preoccupied with a previous, and much larger, celebration. The reverberations of this gathering have continued to buoy me when I’ve felt melancholy, overwhelmed or any flavour of befuddled. I’m in the midst of my menopause transition and when living through an initiation on this scale, especially whilst engaging in a world that doesn’t fully honour it, these feelings have been quite common!
For me, one of the most critical aspects of ceremony well enacted is that it becomes a touchstone to keep us tethered to what’s important as we move forward.
The celebration in question was billed as my ‘Coming of Age’ and was held in the run up to my 50th birthday. It was as simple as it was complex. As ordinary as it was profound. Whilst some elements took months of planning, others came together in the moment, over the course of a very relaxed weekend in the Sussex countryside. The very particular alchemy of this unfolding unlocked the true power of ceremony involving loved ones – not least your god-sibs – to reach through time to offer a hand, an ear or some tough-love. Even when sitting alone on a hot July afternoon years later.
There was so much to cherish about the weekend and the preparation. Gathering (nearly) 50 women, ranging from 7 to 74 years old, was heart-warming in its own right. The fact that they represented different parts of my life was glorious.
Among those gathered were family, including my mother and ‘aunt’ (mum’s school friend who has always taken a keen and active role in our lives); my sister; two sisters-in-law and two nieces. They were joined by two special teenagers, one representing my doula babies (she was the first) and the other, the girls I work with through Rites for Girls CIC, plus my two god-daughters, at the time one was eight and the other about to turn 21! There were women I’ve known from high school, university, in various professional guises and from numerous trainings, including Red School. Some I see often, others I’ve not had regular contact with in years. Several came from overseas especially for the gathering, and others popped in from around the corner. Many I’ve known in excess of 30 years, others not even for that many months.
The fact that we had the venue – Nutley Edge Cottages, which backs on to the Ashdown Forest – to ourselves for the weekend added to the nourishment. As did the food, which was made with love by a local cook who brought a little Mediterranean magic to the proceedings. She’s Greek, I’m half Lebanese, but what’s a few hundred miles between friends?!
The whole occasion was undertaken with ceremonial intent, including the reconnection between women who hadn’t seen each other for many years and those meeting for the first time; the impromptu yoga on the lawn and certainly the meals. Having said that, there was ‘a ceremony’ at the core of the weekend with various ritual elements woven throughout.
We began with private contemplation. A time to ponder the question, “What does it mean for a woman to turn 50 in the world today?” Everyone was encouraged to walk the grounds, sit with a chosen tree, lie with eyes closed and/or walk the temporary labyrinth that had been marked out on the lawn.
We moved into the yurt for several rounds of sharing; to hear how I fit into the life of each attendee and to listen to me recount my ‘life story’, which included breaking soda bread, eating strawberries and sugared almonds to represent my Irish, English and Lebanese heritage. We co-created a stunning piece of art – see Ceremony Corner in the latest issue of The Gossip. It has become a daily reminder of the women in my life and of this ceremony as a whole.
We honoured each stage of a woman’s life from girlhood to cronehood with a ritual that celebrated the thresholds we cross on the way. We gathered in circles by life-stage with each being honoured for the element they embody – from water to earth, fire, air and ether. Then each circle turned to gift their element across the threshold to the next, until we reached the elders in the centre holding all the elements of life. It was simple but nuanced…and very touching. I’ve been told by several women that this part of the weekend had a profound impact, as they saw – for the first time – the journey they had been on and the possibilities ahead.
For the final ritual, I was gifted – by the youngest member of our group (my 7-year-old niece) – a woollen stole that I had commissioned to hold my story. It was woven with reverence by an incredibly talented and heartfelt weaver, Tor, who creates weaves in and for ceremony. The stole and I were blessed by the ‘magic fairy bell’ my niece was also in charge of. Music played; we sang. And afterwards…we feasted and danced long into the night.
As I say, a well-enacted ceremony acts as a touchstone – whether it has compromised multiple layers of ritual or not. We can summon up the ceremony from just one aspect of the whole event – held in an echo held in a piece of music, a photo on your phone or just taking a few moments to simply reflect.
Most recently, it has been the preparation for my Coming of Age ceremony – which itself involved various layers of ritual and was undertaken as a ceremony in its own right – that has most resonated.
In preparation for the ceremony, I ‘sat out’. Twelve hours overnight, sitting under a tree – alone – in a privately owned but otherwise natural field, flanked by woods on all sides. No food, no light, no fire, no timepiece. Comfort consisted of a low-rise camping chair that allowed me to sit, back supported several inches from the ground (because I was turning 50, not 21!!!), and a flask of water plus thermals, fleece, waterproofs and a shawl. As well as the layers of clothing, I had undertaken several layers of preparation, alone and with my mentor and guide – who remained on the land but a good 10 minutes walk up the hill and entirely out of sight.
My task was to ‘pay attention’ to my surroundings in response to the question I took out with me: “What do I need to know as I turn 50?” I received messages from what I heard – which began with the planes overhead until the sound of human activity gave way to the breeze in the trees, the call of an owl and eventually, the dawn chorus…and sometimes nothing but my own breath. Messages from the animals I encountered – deer crossing the field in front of me; ants on the blades of grass at my feet; and the unknown scratching creatures that visited the places I didn’t dare to look in the thick of night. Messages from the land itself and how the fading embers of the evening, the partial glow of a waning crescent moon and then the rising light of the morning each played with my field of vision.
I was expecting something dramatic. A trial. Something to be conquered. There were a couple of wobbly moments – mainly when the aforementioned scratching creatures showed up. The ones to whom I explained my unease, shared the purpose of my presence in their place, and asked to kindly co-exist without being nibbled or climbed on! And, overall, what I experienced was a gentle transition across the threshold, from one day to the next – right through the dark, unknown of night.
The messages (at least how I translate them today): “Change doesn’t need to be hard. Pay attention to the details. Keep your intention clear. Explain it when called. Ask for support. Trust that all will be well.”
Until next time…
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