"How shall I begin my song
In the blue night that is settling?
In the great night my heart will go out,
Toward me the darkness comes rattling.
In the great night my heart will go out."
-Papago Medicine Woman Chant
When I was 19, I gave birth to my first child, and the process of that labor and birth was my own personal initiation into womanhood. The pain brought me to a place I had never been, and I came away feeling as if I could do anything. I remember telling someone, "I could get stabbed to death in a dark alley, and it wouldn't compare to what I just went through." Many say that tribal initiations are designed to match the intensity of what a woman experiences in childbirth. They believe that a person must go into the depths if they are to transition into a better, stronger, more understanding person. When you go into the depth of labor, it is actually called "transition." In this moment, you believe you cannot handle another moment of life and pain, and you begin to lose your calm and your self control. During transition, even the strongest and sweetest of women kick and scream, worry and weep. To the woman in labor, transition feels like the end, but the midwife knows that transition is a wonderful sign that birth is near. To a child who is moving into adulthood, the changes can be painful and scary, but adults who have come out the other end know that a powerful soul is being born.
Giving birth (naturally) is like being on a fast track initiation process. All that you have known as a child ends, and nobody can stop what is happening to you. You are flung into space and pain and you are alone there. It is a spiritual experience. This is exactly the feeling that rites of passage ceremonies throughout history have tried to convey to their young. In many cultures, girls are ignored in the initiation process, simply because menstruation and childbirth are considered to be enough of a rite of passage. But rites of passage are not just about enduring pain-they are also about being welcomed into adulthood by your tribe. They are about vowing publicly to your community that you have good intentions for your life. In some cultures, girls and boys alike are initiated in lengthy, painful, and even gruesome ways in order to awaken them to adulthood. The ceremonies were developed by their tribal elders generations ago, and everyone involved in the process knows exactly what's expected of them. Some ceremonies last for days and involve feasts, community gatherings, dancing, singing, prayer, and tests of strength and character. These rituals are designed to challenge the child, to mark a transformational moment in time, and to welcome a new, more evolved being into the family and the community. As scholar Michael Meade once said (and I think this applies to girls as well), "In many tribal cultures, it was said that if the boys were not initiated into manhood, if they were not shaped by the skills and love of elders, then they would destroy the culture. If the fires that innately burn inside youths are not intentionally and lovingly added to the health of the community, they will burn down the structures of culture, just to feel the warmth."
Thirteen years after that first birth experience, I looked at my daughter Madeline and realized that she too had become a woman. I felt a growing responsibility to do something, to teach her something, to help her realize the weight of womanhood, but our discussions about love and sex often fell flat. I knew that I needed to find a way for the women in her life to open pathways to guidance, so that she would always have someone to talk to. I knew that although Madeline was only thirteen, she was also technically old enough to be a mother, and she needed to be taught and honored as a woman. I knew that she needed to stand in front of her family and make vows to uphold her character. But coming from a primarily Christian Science background, I knew nothing of rites of passage until I began my own research. Sure, I knew about Bar/Bat Mitzvahs and baptisms, and even a bit about Native American practices, but you don't just become a Jew, or join an Apache tribe. So with my foundation in Buddhism and Christianity, with my knowledge of the Hindu, Catholic and Jewish faiths, and my great love for pagan and Native American culture, without generations of ancestors to guide the way, I developed my own rite of passage ceremony, to welcome my daughter into womanhood.
We invited thirty women in Madeline's life who are close knit with our family, and who are role models for her, ensuring that she was the youngest person there. The only warm, pretty and affordable space I could find to rent was the common room of our apartment building, but we brought in everything we needed to convert it into a sacred space.
We began with a few creative group projects, which gave our guests an opportunity to bond while creating meaningful gifts for Madeline. As a group, we made her a one of a kind headdress, a mandala, and a book full of blessings, advice and artwork. During this time, Madeline made a special head wreath for each of us.
An important aspect of Madeline's initiation was in taking responsibility for her own part of the ceremony. Once the projects were finished and we were gathered around her, she began by thanking everyone for being there, and by reading a short essay she wrote about what kind of woman she wants to be. She then vowed to uphold the Buddhist Eightfold Path.
"I vow as a young woman and community leader, to follow the Eightfold Path:
Right view: I vow to see through the eyes of understanding and compassion.
Right thought: I vow to think clear and kind thoughts.
Right speech: I vow to think before I speak, and to be truthful, gentle, and fearless with my words.
Right conduct: I vow to match my actions with my words. I will not bring harm to myself or to others, and I will make decisions based on the welfare of all living beings.
Right livelihood: I vow to choose a job that will not harm others. I will seek happiness by creating happiness.
Right effort: I vow to always do my best. I will expand my spirit, share my gifts with the world, and I will not waste time in negative pursuits.
Right mindfulness: I will be mindful of my thoughts, words and deeds. I will mindfully care for my body.
Right concentration: I will spend my time focusing on what brings strength and beauty to myself and to all living beings."
In lieu of an overnight fire dance, I then took over and led Madeline through a candle ceremony and meditation. I placed three candles in front of her, two small and one large. The first candle was lit, representing her infancy and childhood. She meditated for a good time on the flame of this candle, and on the gifts and wisdom that those years have given her. The second candle was lit, representing her life as a woman, and she meditated on the freedom, the responsibility and her life intentions. The third candle, the large one, was lit, representing her eternal self-the part of her that was here before her birth, and that will live on after her death. She meditated on this flame, listening to what God and her ancestors might say to her.
We provided many drums and percussion instruments at this gathering, and so during and after Madeline's meditation rituals, we sat around her drumming softly. In truth, this put not just her, but all of us into a trance. Once the drumming died down, I presented her with the beautiful headdress and gave her a spirit name, which I chose based on her personality and passions. I borrowed the Hindu rite of passage tradition and made markings on her face, representing "Gayarti", the mind, "Saraswati", the word and "Savitri", the deed, to further impress upon her the importance of aligning the three. After that, we went around the circle as each woman read. We read everything from Biblical quotes to John O'Donohue, from Rilke to Rumi to Native American Prayers.
I closed the ceremony with this ancient blessing, which was so beautifully worded by the Sikh yogi, Gurmukh:
"May you live in great health, happiness, wholeness. May you come to know your Sat Nam-your truth, your true identity, and find a peace within yourself. May the long-time sun shine upon you, all love surround you, and may the pure light within you guide your way on."
At that point, we amped up the drums and Madeline led us in her first dance of womanhood. She then brought the evening to a close with this Native American Prayer:
"Oh, Great Spirit,
whose voice I hear in the winds
and whose breath gives life to all the world, hear me.
I am small and weak.
I need your strength and wisdom.
Let me walk in beauty and make my eyes
ever behold the red and purple sunset.
Make my hands respect the things you have made
and my ears sharp to hear your voice.
Make me wise so that I may understand
the things you have taught my people.
Let me learn the lessons you have hidden
in every leaf and rock.
I seek strength, not to be superior to my sister,
but to fight my greatest enemy-myself.
Make me always ready to come to you
with clean hands and straight eyes,
so when life fades, as the fading sunset,
my spirit will come to you
without shame."
As I was thinking, researching, gathering and planning for this important event, there were many, many times where I wondered if my guests would laugh, or leave thinking that I was insane. I wanted to rely on my elders and my culture to put me in my place, to tell me what to do, but in the end, I had to create for myself what I did not already have. In the end, every person there said that she wished someone had done something like this for her. In the end I realized how important it is to acknowledge our young and to bring them formally into adulthood with a sense of compassion, community, acceptance and expectation. Not an expectation that they will be perfect, but that they will always do their best to be kind to themselves and others, to make good choices, and to consciously cultivate their characters.
Madeline had a wonderful time, and was lit the entire evening and for days afterward with an ecstatic glow. Of course, she still acts like a teenager, but the ceremony changed her. It made her more confident, more open and more loving. It gave her a safety in communicating with adults and close family members that she hadn't had before. It gave her a sense of where she is coming from, an idea about where she is going, and the foundation of a supportive community behind her. Without painful initiations or childbirth, she was able to experience a new sense of honor and responsibility within herself, a heightened sense of inner strength.
In the end, I saw clearly that even though I am not a trained minister or priest, an elder or a scholar, I still have a right and a great duty to facilitate spiritual celebrations in my family and community. Stepping up and becoming the spiritual leader that I had been seeking turned out to be yet another step in my own initiation as well. In wanting more for my daughter, I found more for all of us, and in forging on through the darkness and fear of uncertainty in our modern and moderately culture-less American world, I found out how close we all are to profound spiritual transformation. It is our duty to preserve each culture that we grow and learn from, but it is also our duty to create beautiful new things. We are here to evolve through the generations, to learn from our parents and our past, and to move on from there. We take the good and the strong with us, and it sustains us when we're lost. We forge forward, toward the light, so that our children can have a better life than we did. We must love, support and accept our children, teaching them by example. We must bring them into adulthood with inspired eyes, a loving heart and a good head on their shoulders. We must acknowledge their transformations. We must teach them to communicate, to reach out and above all, we must show them that they are loved. Everyone needs it and everyone deserves it. This is how we evolve.
"I live my life in growing orbits
which move out over the things of the world.
Perhaps I can never achieve the last,
but that will be my attempt.
I am circling around God, around the ancient tower,
and I have been circling for a thousand years,
and I still don't know if I am a falcon, or a storm,
or a great song."
-Ranier Maria Rilke
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