A Ritual for Self Nourishment
I realized I wanted to do more than leave a gift for the land, I wanted to give myself a gift also. A walking meditation that reminded me of my goals.
A physical reminder to fill my own cup first.
Ritual is a tool for changing the world that begins in an a container you create for the purpose. A reality bubble of your own design. A lab station for your studies in self manipulation.
Into this space we bring our vision of the world we want to create, and then we do things in the physical world that represent that vision. Words that describe it, movements that embody it, symbols that represent it. We try to feel what it would be like to live in the world we are creating. Once that is complete, we leave the lab and head out to create that world in our own lives.
As an example of this process, I thought I'd share a ritual I created for myself last month.
It started with a thrift shop and a falling in love with a tea set. Painted with a scene showing delicate flowers framing a temple in the distance, it made me feel peaceful and contemplative. A moment frozen in time. Spiritual.
I considered the purchase, knowing full well that I didn't have the need or storage space for a full tea set. Ultimately I decided to go with my gut and buy it. The speed of my decision spurred on by the fact that I was late for a session with my reiki teacher. Driving there, the purpose of the set came to me.
I would give a piece of the tea set to people who have been important to me on my spiritual journey. Starting with giving a piece to my reiki teacher when I arrived.
Since then I've given away a handful of pieces. The teapot sits on my alter, a reminder to continually return to Source for wisdom. Last month I attended a festival at Wisteria, the pagan campground that's been the site of much of my spiritual growth in years that I've been attending events there.
I brought a cup from the set with me because I felt sure that there would be someone there to honor with a piece. I looked for opportunities with the people I interacted with, yet none felt right. The cup was still with me on my last day.
What spoke to me was that the land itself had been my teacher. The fire and drums at Paw Paw, Stone Circle, the swimming hole, and the community of people, nature, and spirit that formed with and around all of them. I'd learned so much in this space. I decided to leave this cup in the Fairy Garden at Wisteria, the same place my husband and I left totem protection for our family (blood and chosen) the year before.
The Fairy Garden is the sacred site furthest from everything, down a long gravel road. On the way there you pass a spring fed swimming hole, a sacred pool that's held a piece of my soul since I first laid eyes on it. I started my journey there.
One of the areas of growth I've been pushing into is self nourishment. Trying to care as much about myself as I do the people around me. Leaving enough emotional reserves to stay grounded and present with myself. So when I stopped by the pond to reflect on my way to the fairy garden, I realized I wanted to do more than leave a gift for the land, I wanted to give myself a gift also. A walking meditation that reminded me of my goals.
I wrote the words "Fill Your Own Cup" in waterproof ink on a piece of paper I tore from my sketch book. My path was set. After filling the cup with the water from the pond I've gone to so often for healing, I would walk to the fairy garden while trying to keep as much of the water as possible in the cup.
It seemed important that the cup be completely submerged in the pond. Just as there is more love, energy, and wisdom in the universe than I could possible hold in my limited vessel, the cup can be filled and surrounded by the water but can only carry a small amount away.
Then I began to walk. Walking without spilling a very full cup of liquid forces you to go slow. I held the cup in front of me while I watched the path. I'm a fast walker and the slow pace was uncomfortable. I quickly learned what was too fast when I felt the water spill onto my hand. Slowing down to correct, focusing on my breath and reading the words in front of me. "Fill your own cup."
Walking slowly I could notice more. Butterflies moving across wildflowers. The layered sound of different bird calls. Walking on the gravel path I found a pace. The fastest I could walk without spilling the water. It felt like I'd accomplished something. "I'm doing it" my mind wanted to shout, like a child yelling out for a parent to watch, "See what I did!"
On the way to the fairy garden there is a labyrinth. I was having such a good time walking, feeling so accomplished and wise, I wanted to do more. Let's walk the labyrinth with the cup too! Really show off.
This portion of the ritual taught me something. The pace I'd found easy to maintain without spilling on the gravel path was way too fast for walking down the slopped entrance and small curving path of the labyrinth. I spilled water, slowed down, spilled water again, slowed down ever more. This felt like failure. Like I should've been able to maintain the same pace there as I did on the road. Like I was stupid and bad for spilling the water.
But the labyrinth isn't the road.
Just like life. When my path changes, when I want to do more than I planned, I have to adjust my pace. Lately I've been getting a lot better at figuring out my "emotional self care" levels in the day to day. When things are predictable and conditions stable, I'm getting better at keeping my cup filled. But when things change, it feels like failure when I have less to offer others. When I have to slow down.
At the middle point of the labyrinth I set my cup on the alter and meditated on my journey so far. Having a physical experience of my mental struggles with self nourishment helped me take in what I was trying to learn. The side quest into the labyrinth wasn't a bad thing, I'd chosen it and got a lot of it. But I did have to slow down. It cost me. Slowing down to accommodate it wasn't a failure but the price has to be paid.
In a way, it's the same as the somatic experiencing I do with my clients. I'm trying to give them a missing emotional experience in my office so they can feel for themselves the differences these experiences make, and apply them to the real world.
This portion of the ritual felt the most meaningful. One delightful gift was seeing some ants crawling over the mandarin slices someone had left not long before I was there. I'd been feeling a bit alone in this ritual. Perhaps it was a little silly to be creating this elaborate game for myself as an adult. Seeing that someone else had been there, leaving an offering to the land as well, reminded me that I'm not alone. Other people like to play these games with the universe also.
I walked back out of the labyrinth and found a resting place for my offering. A marble slab with a guardian Jackalope to keep watch for me. I hope the fairies were pleased.
In the month since I've done this ritual, I have found it easier to stay connected to myself, to ask for what I need and to feel less guilt for saying no. The most important part of any ritual is the work you do afterwards to remake the world in accordance with your intention, so I'm trying to hold my end of the bargain. The universe helps those who help themselves after all.
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