My ancestral story is full of departures; many left the fabric of our family badly frayed. So it was a joy to help my gifted yoga teacher Jay say an intentional farewell to her community in Portland when she relocated to Ojai last year.

Jay returned to Portland a few weeks ago to lead a workshop, almost exactly a year after moving. Reflecting on her farewell ceremony she says, “Because of the intentional marking, grieving, and celebrating of that transition, I am clear that Portland is no longer my home - and is always my home."

Last spring, a month after arriving in Ojai, she said “I've never before had the support of my community in such a potent way when moving to a new place (and everything else that represents). The ceremony allowed me to feel like I've arrived here in my new life cleanly, and with blessings.”

Jay and I began envisioning her ceremony in a conversation in which she reflected on the nature of her journey and transition. She reported later that day: “I have to say, the ceremony is already working – as they do when you consciously begin to craft! Our conversation this morning was the first time that I began to feel into the immense journey I've been on as a whole, and to the mixture of so many emotions that I'm feeling as I'm about to bring this chapter to a close.”

Jay outlined some of the ceremonial elements that appealed to her and connected me by email to the women she had invited to participate. I then worked with this close circle of her sister-students to explore the ways they wanted to honor Jay. The result was a ceremony in three parts.

Part I. Creating Sacred Space
Jay had said, “Nothing says ceremony to me like sage” so we began by burning a bundle one participant had brought. Another sounded her singing bowl to signify our connection to the voice within each of that speaks the truth. Then, as we had so often in Jay’s classes, we honored the circle of connections among us by joining our voices together with three rolling ohms.

Part II. Our Shero’s Journey
Drawing on the themes Jay had shared with me and using her words, I narrated her “Shero’s Journey,” placing her imminent transition in her larger life’s context and naming the gifts her journey had delivered. We then invited each participant to share from her own gifts, perhaps something we’d learned in ourselves from our time with Jay. The first offering was a beautiful viola performance, enlivened through the embodiment of the musician’s yoga practice. After each woman had shared, we bestowed our blessings on Jay through words, a charm necklace composed of beads we’d each brought, and a special blend of essential oils we created together. One participant presented a small box labeled “Joy” to contain all the treasures.

Part III. Departure
Jay then offered a poem to the group, Derek Walcott’s Love After Love. We closed with flying wish papers and a delicious feast of wine and homemade foods.

From her new home a month later Jay wrote, “I have the JOY tin box on my bathroom sink, so every morning and evening I’m reminded of the journey I took to get here and the community of people who helped me along, let me go, and are still here with me in support. That little treasure reminds me of the magic and beauty of that afternoon together, and always makes me smile.”

"Preparing a body for burial is a ritual that is both ageless and tribal. Here’s what it’s like." 

Thus starts the intensely intimate account of one woman's participation in a home funeral, where she and others helped to wash, dress, and say goodbye to the body of their best friend's 22 year old son. 

The idea of restoring this ancient practice to our modern Western lives is not for everyone. If it interests you, read "Inside a Home Funeral" published by the Daily Beast, and tell me what you think. 

In the approach to my 50th birthday, I knew I wanted a ritual that would go deeper than the typical big blow-out party (I had one of those, too). But the croning ceremonies I looked into weren't quite right. I didn’t feel like I was crossing a threshold from one status into another. 

Instead I chose the theme River of Life, inspired by the short John O’Donohue poem, Fluent: "I would love to live/ Like a river flows/ Carried by the surprise/ Of its own unfolding." I wanted to honor the flow of my life and the ways that flow merges with the lifestreams of all those around me.

I invited a loved one from each decade of life, 5 to 74 years in age. In a ceremonial space surrounded by candlelight, a low table held a deep blue scarf representing the river, a baby photo of me at one end, and a photo of my maternal grandmother at the other. Along the way was an unlit tea light candle for each participant. 

From eldest (my mother) to youngest (my niece), I called participants to their seat in the circle, sharing a few words about why I had invited each of them. Once seated, we used O’Donohue’s poem as an invocation, and I shared with the group my hopes and fears about aging:

“I’ve created this ceremony to be not just about what 50 means to me, but about the gifts that come throughout our lives, gifts of girlhood and adolescence, of young womanhood and adulthood, of middle age and older age. In honoring the gifts of the ages that have already flowed through me, and the ages that await downstream, I hope to gain greater acceptance for the flow of time. 

"The truth is, sometimes the current scares me. The loss it brings feels like it might pull me under, with the loss of ones I love, the loss of faculties and powers I once enjoyed, and finally, the end of my own life. But I know that fighting against the current won’t work. It’s exhausting and it deprives me of the surprise and delight of the river’s unfolding.

"As my 50th birthday present to myself, I ask for the courage and the grace to live like a river flows, carried by the surprise of my own unfolding.”

I lit a candle placed mid-stream on the scarf next to a small Buddha figure in a wee birch bark canoe. Then, from youngest to eldest each participant shared a symbol that represented the gifts of their present age. As they placed their symbolic gift on the river, they lit a corresponding candle and took a soapstone star representing my appreciation for their role in my life. Symbols ranged from silly (a wind-up bunny reminding us of the gift of play) to sacred (a stamped tin relic of a heart, for compassion). A sumptuous crocheted slip knot, meant to symbolize the gift of letting go, failed to release, offering a serendipitous reminder of just how difficult that can be.

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Peace I Ask of Thee, Oh River

Peace I ask of thee, oh river
Peace, peace, peace
When I learn to live serenely
Cares will cease.

From the hills I gather courage
Visions of the days to be
Strength to lead and faith to follow
All are given unto me.

This week’s story is of a very special 71 year old, and the way we marked the dawn of his eighth decade at this time last year. Heading into his 70th birthday on the heels of a divorce, he didn’t want a party. Instead we took a walk into the woods together for a private Ceremony of Letting Go & New Beginnings, designed in four parts.

Part 1: Creating Ceremonial Space
We walked together to a favorite spot on the trail, a modest bridge over a gentle stream. We cast a circle of protection around us using wood ash, and purified the space by burning sage. He called in the spirits he wanted to acknowledge and asked his heart to open to acceptance and gratitude.

Part 2: Letting Go
Facing downstream, we used John O’Donohue’s Blessing for the Break-Up of a Relationship as prelude to a litany of questions: What are you letting go of? What needs forgiveness? Are you ready to forgive yourself and release what needs to be released? With his answers, he knelt to burn some keepsakes from the wedding that began the marriage now ended.

Borrowing John O’Donohue’s words, we invoked his Blessing To Come Home to Yourself:
       May all that is unforgiven in you be released.
       May your fears yield their deepest tranquilities.
       May all that is unlived in you blossom into a future graced with love.

Part 3: Opening
What is unlived within you that wants to blossom? Facing upstream, open to the flow, my friend responded to this and other prompts with his intentions for this next phase of his life. As he scattered the ashes from the objects he had burned, we turned to O’Donohue for one last blessing, the Blessing for a New Beginning.

Part 4: Celebrating New Beginnings
Finally, we moved from the transitional space of the bridge, which my friend had so often traversed alone, to a ground cloth we had spread nearby, representing the common ground of community. We had invited family and other loved ones to contribute a poem for this day, which I had bound into a book. I presented my dear friend with this book of blessings as we sat sheltered by the trees and shared celebratory food and drink.
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There are few resources more wonderful than John O'Donohue's Book of Blessings: To Bless This Space Between Us. My gratitude to the memory of Mr O'Donohue for helping to bring the art of the blessing into secular spaces.

When Trevor and Kristel began planning their wedding ceremony, they knew they wanted to weave in their family, but they weren’t sure how.

Kristel told me, “I want our guests to know that the love Trevor and I share is not only is being freely given to each other, but that we love and value each of them, too.” Trevor wanted the ceremony to reflect his belief that “we are all connected with one another.”

In a fun twist on “something old, something new, something borrowed” (skip the blue), we took an idea I borrowed and created a “family blessings” ritual that was uniquely their own.

I had just read a post on-line from a colleague that started with, “If I were to be called to Celebrant heaven today, I would go with such gratitude and joy.” (We Celebrants tend to LOVE our work!) She went on to describe a wedding ceremony that included a piece I thought might be perfect for Kristel and Trevor.

In the ritual, twelve ribbons represent particular gifts that are essential to a happy marriage. Kristel did a little looking around and found a list of twelve attributes that represented the pillars that would form the foundation of their marriage. They choose satin ribbons that matched Kristel’s dress and distributed them, along with the “pillar” words, to twelve of their beloved family and friends. With a fine-point marker before the ceremony, each person inscribed their ribbon with a blessing, a reflection, some words of wisdom, inspired by their assigned word.

During the ceremony, as Trevor and Kristel stood before their guests anticipating the vows they would pledge to each other, I asked each person who had prepared a ribbon to come up, in turn, to present their ribbon and read their wishes to the couple.

One at a time, the wisdom unfurled: Accept. Appreciate. Acknowledge. Affirm. Compassion. Communication. Listen. Presence. Respect. Support. Understanding. Validate.

As each presented their ribbon, I tied it onto the end of the prior ribbon. The last ribbon was tied to the first creating a beautiful circle of wishes.

With those words, Trevor and Kristel lifted the circle of ribbons over their heads, laying it on the floor around them. From within that circle they made their promises to each other, and to Kristel’s son, who joined them within the ring.

Now as they celebrate their first six months of married life, and reflect on the difficult work that follows the first blush of new love, Trevor and Kristel are finding ways to stay connected to the words of wisdom shared on that day. Last month Kristel incorporated miniature versions of the ribbons into her Valentine to Trevor. And Trevor says, “We need to hang those ribbons up somewhere so we can see them every day!”

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Read more from Kristel about the wedding ceremony I created for her and Trevor. And tell me about the rituals you've created to remind you of what's important in your life.