The Value of Ceremony (and How to Make Your Own)
Creating ceremony seems to be an innate drive we have, regardless of culture and era. We instinctively acknowledge certain occasions, and share them with others, whether it’s a champagne toast or something more elaborate like a wedding ceremony.
I didn’t have a particularly positive experience of ceremony as a child, attending various ceremonies as part of the Catholic Church. Part of this was probably due to my lack of understanding about what was going on, partly because I wasn’t there by choice, and partly because I didn’t feel like I was an active participant. Going to Mass was something I was forced to do, without reason, and time spent away from watching cartoons.
Later in life, I discovered the true power of ceremony through my first experience with ayahuasca. Ayahuasca, taken as a plant medicine, is a blend of two plants: the ayahuasca vine (Banisteriopsis caapi) and a shrub called chacruna (Psychotria viridis), which contains the hallucinogenic drug dimethyltryptamine (DMT). Taken as a slow cooked brew, you can expect to have a profound — and often terrifying — psychedelic experience.
This isn’t a party drug, and for the most part, it seems people who partake in the ayahuasca experience acknowledge that. We go to a bona fide curandero (or shaman) who has the knowledge and experience of guiding many ceremonies. And that’s another thing: it feels natural to call an ayahuasca “trip” a ceremony, because that’s the only word that comes close to describing the setting appropriately.
To be honest, I didn’t expect that the ceremonial aspects; the smells, the songs, the sharing, the intimacy; would be the part of the experience I most valued and would take with me on the plane home.
I’ve since compared my ayahuasca experience in the rainforest of Peru to another I had in Amsterdam. The latter had some elements of ceremony (we set intentions, holding tea lights) but failed to take into account all the details that the more traditional setting achieved. I’m sure plenty of people will prefer being sprayed with agua de florida (Florida water, a kind of cologne commonly used for the purpose of cleansing and protecting a ceremonial space, as well as the participants) from a water bottle, but I personally found the traditional approach of the curandero swigging and spitting the cleansing water on me to be oddly more dignified and meaningful. Go figure.
The result was a “set and setting” in which I felt uneasy and distracted. This is usually a term associated with psychedelic drug experiences, referring to the mindset (“set”) and the physical environment (“setting”) in which the user has the experience.
Similarly, I see the set and setting you experience ceremony in as playing a crucial role in what you get out of your time, both during the ceremony and after. If you’re in the right frame of mind and the most conducive environment, you have a real opportunity to walk away feeling changed in some way, which could have real, lasting effects.
In the case of the Amsterdam ceremony, I left wondering whether or not I had made the right decision, regardless of how powerful the brew was, and how well-meaning the facilitators might have been. I wasn’t searching for ceremony when I went to Peru: I didn’t realise that it could be something I was missing from my rather solitary, secular existence, but I now firmly believe it was.
Why?
I have some ideas:
Ceremonies communicate change
We all experience change in our lives, whether we want to or not. Ageing is a kind of change we’re constantly immersed in, but it usually takes ceremony to acknowledge that change and reflect upon it. Coming of age ceremonies as well as birthday celebrations, give us the opportunity to honour the previous ‘chapter’ of our life, and move forward with intention and gratitude.
Ceremonies remind us of who we are
Traditionally, ceremonies have been means to help establish and identify the community itself. Through sharing common ground with others ‘like us’ we can strengthen bonds, feel more compassionate to others and remember that we’re part of something bigger.
Ceremonies help us feel connected
Ceremonies allow us to relate to those who have come before us and partaken in similar rituals, as well as those who are in attendance with us at the ceremony itself. In many cases, we’re also encouraged to praise or show gratitude to God, spirits of ancestors or something else that transcends our mortal, mundane being. Being in community with others can arguably make our attempts to connect with something divine more powerful and transformative.
I’ve been encouraged to find ways of creating my own rituals and ultimately, larger group ceremonies. Despite my introversion, I know the value of celebrating, commiserating or simply experiencing something as a group. It isn’t easy to start a tradition from scratch, but I firmly believe we can tap into tradition and breathe new life into ceremony by creating and cultivating our own.
By designing your own ceremony, you get to choose what symbols to adopt, what meaning you give them and what you can leave behind. For many of us, certain symbols carry meaning we no longer wish to identify with, so we must update the symbols we use and imbue them with their own meaning — one that is relevant to who we are now.
Naturally, symbols that carry the weight of time and story, myth and religion, tradition and culture are going to be hard to beat. I’m not likely to find the new cross whilst rummaging through my box of old junk. Creating a symbol with this kind of cultural value isn’t something I’m suggesting you attempt, but I do think that there is an opportunity for us to find objects or concepts that are meaningful to us and that they can make a ceremony highly personal and purposeful.
For example, what personal significations do butterflies have for you? They might just be a pretty insect you enjoy having in your garden. Or maybe they were your grandma’s favourite, and you still have that mug of hers you cherish in her memory. What if that butterfly symbol, or even the mug itself could be part of your personal ceremony? A way of remembering your ancestors, and the unconditional love you were shown by her?
If you have guests at your ceremony, maybe each are asked to bring a symbol that is meaningful to them, or that represents the theme of your ceremony. More than traditional, age-old symbols can offer, these personal symbols can reveal much more about the ceremony itself and the people that form it.
What are the elements of ceremony?
Even though I’m all for the DIY ceremony approach, I’m also fully aware that there are certain templates or shapes that true ceremonies seem to have. When we have a structure that’s rooted in tradition, we’re free to play with the individual elements ourselves.
Not all of these ingredients need to be present to make a ceremony, but many occur in ceremonies all over the world:
Performance — song, music, dance or other movement, decorative elements such as flags or other symbols, costume
Altered states — the experiences are palpable, people walk away changed in some way or at least changed while they were there, they may experience an altered sense of time
Preparation — many ceremonies require a period of preparation prior to the event, such as abstaining from alcohol, sex or certain foods.
Intention — ceremonies are centred around a purpose, and this is often stated by whoever is opening the ceremony. For example, a wedding may begin with the officiant stating “We are gathered here today to witness the joining together of X and Y…”
Cleansing — many participants in ceremonies undergo some kind of ritual cleansing, whether it’s through tobacco smoke, sage, incense or blessed water.
Questions to ask yourself before creating your own ceremony
Note: These are based on directives given in the book The Power of Ceremony by Linda Neale.
- What’s the purpose of my ceremony?
- What kind of change do I hope will occur?
- What concerns do I (or my ego) have?
- What concerns might others attending have?
- What are the symbols used in this ceremony? What symbolic actions will people perform? What symbolic decoration will there be?
- What ceremonial objects will I need?
- Do we need an altar or another place of focus? What will be on the altar? Who will build it?
- What music/song/dance/art will be part of the ceremony? Who will contribute?
- Who will attend the ceremony? How will they be invited?
- How are people expected to dress?
- What seating arrangement will there be? Will elders and children be accommodated?
- Will there be food? If so, what kind? What does it symbolise? When will it be eaten? Who will prepare it?
- Who is assisting the ceremony? How will they be informed of their roles?
Does taking religion out of ceremony make it less special?
At my Confirmation, the last sacrament I’ve taken in the Catholic church, I was decidedly atheist. I couldn’t stand the idea of an insecure God that demanded I take on an additional name in recognition that I believed in him. I don’t even remember the day, but I do remember the resentment I felt at each preparatory class I had to sacrifice Saturday afternoons to for weeks.
For me, that was a religious ceremony that lacked any heart, magic or transformation.
On the other hand, my first ayahuasca experience came at a time when I was much more open to there being a ‘higher power’, though not entirely convinced about what that looked like. The ceremony itself wasn’t religious (though there is a religious order associated with the medicine, Santo Daime.) Despite that, and no obvious associations with any religion I knew, I had a truly spiritually profound experience. I felt a consciousness in the plants around me and the ones that danced in my visions. There was a great deal of heart, magic and I arguably transformed.
Despite the fact that we’re moving away from religious ceremonies and Western society is becoming increasingly secular, I believe people still need rituals and ceremony to mark major points in their life, to connect with others and find meaning in daily life.
“If we are to revive enchantment we need ritual, but it must be ritual that is meaningful for who we are now. Perhaps for many we are in a time between rituals, seeking the meaning that will enchant.”
~ Becca Tarnas
