Unfinished Heart (c) Page Hodel I didn't know what to expect when I agreed to offer a workshop on Creative Rituals for Times of Transition for Villages NW, the grassroots movement that supports aging-in-place. What a thrill to have more than 50 participants resist the springtime sun breaks and gather together at TaborSpace!
And what a range of life experience they represented: divorce, retirement, facing an empty nest, coming from isolation into community, from community into solitude, the adjustments within a military family, the incapacitation or death of a parent, the death of a partner, the birth of a new business, downsizing, illness, becoming a crone - and more.
We explored ways to mark, mourn, or celebrate these transitions using some of the framework I shared in February's post on Ritual Vs. Routine. Those observations centered primarily on the role of ritual and ceremony in focusing our intentions and providing structure that helps us to access more meaning.
But I've spent much of the week reflecting on another powerful function of ritual: the way it connects us to each other, to our common humanity. A workshop participant put it like this on her feedback form: "From birth to death we need ritual to remind us that we are part of the collective community."
A year ago in a Memorial Day post on year-round memorialization projects I highlighted Monday Hearts for Madelene. Every Monday I, along with thousands of others around the world, get an email with an image of a gorgeous handmade heart crafted by Page Hodel in memory of her beloved partner who died from ovarian cancer at age 46; it's the continuation of a ritual she began in their courtship days. Recently Page wrote to her email list:
And what a range of life experience they represented: divorce, retirement, facing an empty nest, coming from isolation into community, from community into solitude, the adjustments within a military family, the incapacitation or death of a parent, the death of a partner, the birth of a new business, downsizing, illness, becoming a crone - and more.
We explored ways to mark, mourn, or celebrate these transitions using some of the framework I shared in February's post on Ritual Vs. Routine. Those observations centered primarily on the role of ritual and ceremony in focusing our intentions and providing structure that helps us to access more meaning.
But I've spent much of the week reflecting on another powerful function of ritual: the way it connects us to each other, to our common humanity. A workshop participant put it like this on her feedback form: "From birth to death we need ritual to remind us that we are part of the collective community."
A year ago in a Memorial Day post on year-round memorialization projects I highlighted Monday Hearts for Madelene. Every Monday I, along with thousands of others around the world, get an email with an image of a gorgeous handmade heart crafted by Page Hodel in memory of her beloved partner who died from ovarian cancer at age 46; it's the continuation of a ritual she began in their courtship days. Recently Page wrote to her email list:
When Madalene died, for me there was an avalanche of grief I didn’t think I could possibly endure. My little soul just didn’t feel strong enough. There was something about the continuation of making of these hearts for her that was not only my desperate effort to keep my connection to her alive in my physical world... they are also an intuitive yet unconscious act of self preservation. I could keep her alive in my heart and mind... if I could make her a heart, then she must still be with me.
Last Monday, Page sent out a plea for help. She invited her extended community to share their family's vintage black and white photos with her to complete an "Unfinished Heart". Mid-week she reported her astonishment at the response: literally hundreds of "stunning images" from all over the world... from South Africa to Japan to California... "The history contained in these images is extraordinary. The clothes, the hairdos, the cars, the cultural differences, yet we are all here sharing life's greatest joy, loving our families and friends. There are your parents when they were young and falling in love, the grandparents on picnics on blankets on hillsides. The babies, the loved one you have loved and lost. It's all there."
Page's words attest to the power of the community created when she chose to share a ritual that was once between her and Madelene alone, with the broader world.
When I originally got the “message” (idea) to start sending them out in the world, it was to express this profound love that had no where to go. What I didn’t know then, but I DO know now, is that it is every email you have sent me... every word that you have typed from your desks at work on Monday mornings, some late late at night... your sharing your kindness and love... your family stories... and now these staggeringly beautiful images... YOU ARE HEALING MY HEART.
What I am left with is this profound understanding of the beautiful power of the people we love and have loved. For some it's our blood family, for others it's our adopted family, for some, our chosen family, whoever it is, you reached out and shared what’s MOST sacred and dear to you. I AM PROFOUNDLY touched WAY deeper than I had ANY idea I would be.
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With thanks to Page Hodel for the weekly inspiration, and Lily for introducing me to Page's project. Please visit Monday Hearts for Madelene to learn more.
And thanks to Chana Andler and Villages NW for inviting me to offer this workshop, and to all of the creative souls who attended. If you're in the Portland metro area, check out this dynamic new community-building resource: Villages NW. To find out about Villages in other parts of the country: Village to Village Network.
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