Rites of Passage

 

 

 

I was asked to write a guest blog post for my gracious, beautiful and very talented friend Julia Speer , who has a wonderful site, Sage Soul Sisters.

 

Having reached the age of being a Crone, I decided to write a post about rites of passage, and examine what the term means to me personally. I believe it is about transitional change.  I continue to learn what this means to me, and hopefully I will always welcome change with courage.
 In particular, I strongly identify with traditional First Nation people's outlook, and philosophy regarding rites of passage.

People are always changing. We are either moving forward, or regressing, regardless of  the pace or situation. The one thing that stays the same, is that life is always full of transition, from birth to death.
 My life transitions are particular to me of course, but like most folks, many did not come easily, were beyond my control, and some were of my own choice, and decision.

I don't think it much matters what my experiences were, so much as what my attitude was when they happened, and what I gleaned from these rites of passage. The lessons learned, helped me to become a better human being. I always reflect and paraphrase what I heard Angela Davis say during an interview, when asked about her time in prison; when you go through difficult times she stated, these times either break you, or you get stronger.

My attitude toward rites of passage was, and is everything. I had to find the positive, courage, faith, and trust. When I couldn't find these within myself, I borrowed them from some one else. I had to leave put my false pride aside, reach out to others for help, and put my faith in God.

I certainly understand that much of my behaviour was already hardwired in my personality due to my parental upbringing that determined in part, who I would become as an adult woman.

I have had many rites of passage, and I am still connecting these to myself, as a spiritual being, having a human experience, who has recently transitioned into being a crone, now reaching the age of sixty. When I think about this, it causes me to reflect over the course of my life up until the present, and to take a kind of inventory of these rites of passage.

I have listed the most significant rites of passage in my life.

•  The first transition in my life came at the young age of five, when my brother developed multiple sclerosis.
•  I would be directly effected by two diseases. MS and alcoholism.
• At the age of 13 my father left my family, and my brother had a mental breakdown at the age of 23.
• My mother and I returned to Nova Scotia without my brother, and this point I began to get more seriously involved in substance abuse.
• My brother returned to Nova Scotia. I quit high school, and went to vocational school in order to help me get into art college. I decided I wanted to study art.
• At 17-18 years of age I moved out of my mother's home and lived on my own for a period of time in Halifax.
• At 21 I got accepted into NSCAD ( Nova Scotia College of Art and Design ).
• In 1981 I married the love at my life. Four months later, he was dead from a complications from schizophrenia and brittle diabetes, that tragically took his life in 1981 at the age of 26.
• I married again to an abusive, alcoholic man in 1986.
• I got pregnant twice, and miscarried both times.
• In the late 80s I re-united with my father after having no contact with him for 26 years.
• Joined Al-anon in 1988, found myself in Transition House, and divorced in 1991.
• After meeting an Art Therapist, and she introduced me to The Artist Way. I quit my Youth Care Worker profession to go riding horses at 40  for  a period of approximately two years, and I got sober.
• In my second year of sobriety my mother died. My father and mother came to my first year  anniversary.
• Suffice to say, without going into the messy details, I was out in orbit for the first four years of sobriety, until I started to work the 12 Steps, and then things began to improve. I truly had turned my life, and will over to the power of God as I understood.
• I got involved with Mediterranean dance ( Beledi )  which means folk dance, or commonly known as belly dance.
• My father died eleven years ago, and two months later, MS took my big brother and I was a mess, but I stayed clean and sober.
• At 56 years of age, I went back to University and graduated with my Bachelor of Fine Art from Mount Allison University in 2012.

I hesitated a bit in making this list, as part of my post being so personal, and to some may seem very negative. Yes it's true, much of it was negative, but in retrospect, all of these experiences, and events have helped me to become, and to accept who I am mind, body and spirit. I choose not to let my rites of passage define me in a negative way. I became a resilient, whole person, that learned to take responsibility for my own health and happiness. I've learned to accept the things I can not change, to change the things I can, and to know and discern the difference.
I am grateful for each, and every day of my rites of passage, for my contented, happy, sober life. Especially I am forever grateful to those who helped me along the road.

                                            Self-Portrait/ Artist As A Crone



 

Memory of Fathers

This is an old photo taken of my father when he was a police officer in Halifax, Nova Scotia. He's the tall dark lanky one, second in front of the tree on the left, looking toward the dignitaries. He must have been on parade. He was a very handsome man. I think this photo was taken in the mid to late 40s, before I was born.

The memory of my father was of his physical height and his connection with the land, where he loved to hunt and fish. I would often go with him on fishing trips, and go traipsing through the woods checking rabbit snares for rabbits, in spite of me lagging behind or getting my fishing hook caught in the arse end of my pants. The rabbit snaring trips quickly came to an abrupt end, when I was confronted with the reality of seeing a bunny caught in a snare. My father promptly hit it on top of the head and killed it. I never went again.

Our young impressions of our fathers are different from when we become mature adults. Some impressions  remain the same, others change and some are bitter sweet. Constants for me were the ever increasing awareness I had of my father's drinking and how this was affecting our family. When I was thirteen he'd left the family. It wasn't until I'd matured, that I realized how much of an affect it would have, upon being reunited with him, after being separated for twenty six years.

As a young adult I came to fear that I would become the person my father was, who had a serious alcohol problem. Later on  in adult life, I realized I had many shared characteristics in common with my father. Yes, I admitted and accepted I was alcoholic, and got myself into several 12 Step programs. Along with this, I had a very similar personality as my father.
He was very sensitive, emotional, creative, a hard worker, with a great sense of humour, he loved people, and had a faith in the God of his understanding. Most importantly, I know he loved me, my mother and my brother. He was wounded in his young life, coming from a poor rural coal mining town in New Brunswick.
Like so many of us, and did the best he could, with what he had to give. I have learned the important lesson that you can't give away what you don't have yourself.

 I would be lying to say that Father's Day doesn't bring up feelings of loss, sadness, and hurt. But that is OK, as long as I acknowledge it, and can talk openly without dwelling on the past, then I can move beyond this, think about the good memories I have of my father, and how I can be grateful and proud, that I am my father's daughter.

I have never regretted tracking my father down almost twenty years ago. It helped me to reclaim who I am, because I did it for myself, though I am still a work in progress. The repercussions for my family was a healing one.

Today I heard the most beautiful song by Jeff MacDonald, from Cape Breton, Nova Scotia. It was a Gaelic rendition of The Lord's Prayer. It touched me in a very deep way. I don't understand Gaelic but music transcends the necessity to know what is being said, and it can touch the heart regardless. I tried to find it online but could not, but I did find another song he sings about family, which I have posted. Family is about home, whether it be your family of origin, or family of choice. Home really is where the heart is.

Jeff MacDonald's interpretation of The Lord's Prayer conveyed a very evident deep spirituality and expressed to me my feelings about my Father, The Creator, my Higher Power and was filled with gratitude and love for my own father and was acutely aware of how much I miss him.

 I have had many spiritual fathers and mothers throughout my life. A person does not have to be a biological father or mother, to fulfill this most important and difficult job in the world that can make all the difference to another, that has lost their way, or is in need of guidance. I am so very grateful to for all of those who have helped me along the path, especially my family biological or not.