To burn, and then arise again
The abundance of the Summer Circle
The extraordinary experience of my Soul Circle, last fall, stayed with me for a long time. The heart-felt trust and connection that had developed in the course of a few hours between a number of people — often complete strangers to each other— who had met in my living room for the ritual gathering to celebrate my 40th birthday, gave me the feeling that I had to organize this kind of encounters more often.
So when 2018 announced itself, I decided I was going to hold not one but four Circles, this year. Season’s Circles.
I first checked with my husband whether he was okay with this. He had been very supportive for the Soul Circle, and he turned out to like this idea very much as well. To be sure, I’m the spiritual one in this household, but he has always been attracted to this part of me, even if it takes him out of his comfort zone, and he enjoys practically supporting an endeavour of this kind. It’s a beautiful kind of teamwork that allows us to both be hosts, each in a way we feel comfortable in.
I have come to embrace, fully and fearlessly, the notion that the right things will happen at the right time. Every acceptance e-mail was greated with as much love and trust as every message telling me ‘I love the idea, thank you so much for inviting me, but I can’t make it to this one’. My list of kindred spirits is extensive, my arms are long and open, and I have no intention of limiting either.
The concept was similar to the Soul Circle’s: a gathering that started with a ritual circle in which we adressed a symbolic topic, followed by an informal meal and get-together for which the guests provided the pot-luck food and we as hosts provided the drinks and logistics. It’s a great concept, and it works every single time. Minimal costs, maximum enjoyment, for everyone. The main difference with the Soul Circle was of course that this was about the participants, and not about me. I would be a facilitator, a guide perhaps, but definitely not the center of attention or affection.
So in the beginning of March, I held the first gathering, the Spring Circle. At the time, winter was still holding Europe in its grip, but the day of the event we literally had snow in the morning and a bright sun in the afternoon, uncovering the meadows and streets in a matter of hours!
The seasons are very rich in symbolism, which meant I had to decide upon a focus, an approach that felt somehow felt right at that particular time. For the Spring Circle, I chose to work with the notion of the grain/seed waiting in the dark soil, or the flower in the bud about to open to the light: it was a goodbye to things past, to darkness and long processes of getting ready to grow, and an invitation to open up, be touched by the light, and unfold.
We were a small gathering, and I was surprised at the trust and raw honesty that surfaced between these people almost immediately. The mediation I had conceived of in order to work with the seed imagery turned out to be very powerful, and every participant took home an experience that really meant something to them, a part of their personal process had been illuminated and made more conscious.
I felt blessed, but unsure as well. This was such new territory to be navigated. If I was to facilitate the processes of all those attending, what choices should I make? What should I focus on, what should I let go of or manage more clearly? Even though the Spring Circle could be considered a success, I was anything but exuberant afterwards. I felt I had so much to learn… This would make for some digesting, and then starting with a clean slate.
So now it’s the height of summer. And last weekend, days after the solstice, I held my Summer Circle.
I confess: for a while I was hesitant to set a date and dive into it. I still wasn’t sure I could pull all of this off. But after the long, lingering grey of winter, we almost seemed to skip spring, and all of a sudden nature was alive with such abundance that it was impossible not to be touched by it. I sat our terrace, shaded by the oak trees, watching the baby tits flying on and off from our feeding silos, and it dawned on me that I wanted to work with the concept of abundance.
Our garden is not very big, but it’s luscious. To Belgian standards, it’s a semi-wilderness. We weed and cultivate, but on our small plot there is a lot of room for wild corners and for mature trees to do exactly as they like. This means we basically have the feeling of living in a forest or a tree cabin: branches and green from every window we look out of. We love it, even though things sometimes needs to be pruned back just a little…
So the garden and the feeling of abundance it would be, this Summer Circle. As soon as I had that focus, everything seemed to flow naturally. I made only minimal preparations. And the weather was fabulous: sunny but not too hot. We could have the entire ceremony outside, just like I hoped.
We sat in the most sheltered part of the garden, and I dove into the concept of abundance, fire and growth. I had quoted from the Walter de la Mare poem ‘Under the Rose — the song of the Wanderer’ on the invitation:
And I, I’ve trodden the forest
Where, in flames of gold and rose,
To burn and then arise again
The Phoenix goes.
To burn, without the fear of burning up — for from the ashes we rise. To grow, and flower, and bear fruit, in all abundance… To trust all those things growing and ripening in ourselves. To be a fire and a flame, burning as bright as we can. Because we deserve it. Because we make the world a place with more light, if we do…
I read a beautiful solstice meditation by Cait Johnson and Maura D. Shaw from Celebrating the Great Mother, that almost by magic held all of imagery I had wanted to work with.
I had provided a big, empty wooden bowl and all types of garden utensils for pruning, cutting and weeding. We joked about the fact that I had lured my guests here for a thorough garden maintenance session.
The real purpose was sending them into our luscious garden to pick, cut or collect anything they felt like — as long as it spoke to them personally as a symbol of their inner abundance, and the place where the found themselves in their personal evolutions.
(Funny #1: when I had first come up with the idea for this rather unexpected practise, I had caught myself thinking: should I warn them to be a little careful with the roses, or not to ravage some particular shrub? I couldn’t help but laugh at my own need for control. If you want people to experience abundance, you have to trust that what they bring back to put into the ceremonial bowl will be perfect. — Besides, experience has taught me that when charged with such a mission, people will stumble upon something that speaks to them, and it will rarely be the most beautiful flower, it might as well be a weed… So I set no limits, and I told people they were even free to uproot plants if that’s what they felt like — except for the trees, perhaps. (More laughter.) They needn’t hesitate, the garden had more than enough to offer.
Funny #2: when I told my husband about my plans, he voiced exactly the same fears as I had had! Two peas in a pod, really. After I told him what I had learned, we both just relaxed, went with the process and let it happen. And surely, no one ravaged our garden… ;-) To the contrary, I was happy to see that one of the guests had even dared to cut a small branch of our apple tree, bearing one green, unripe apple. Way to go!)
We gathered all the harvested bits of symbolic meaning in my big bowl, and each in turn described what they meant to us.
Some stories spoke of flowering, others of tentative green fruit slowly ripening, others talked of colours and wild shoots providing strength and guidance in times of doubt. We shared, we learned, we trusted and supported each other. We shone and burned, without being afraid of the ashes. For from the ashes, the Phoenix arises yet again…
Afterwards we shared a wonderful meal, and it was heart-warming to see how a number of people, who had met on one or two previous occasions, immediately connected again, and how others who were completely new to the concept found their place with ease.
My purpose in holding these Circles was to facilitate a sense of trust and connectedness between people, as well as an opportunity for personal growth. After this Summer Circle, I’m starting to believe that I am actually capable of doing just that.
I’m already looking forward to Fall.
