"He stood on the beach, barefoot in the sand, and faced the rising sun, whose first rays were appearing from behind the dunes. It was not every morning he was here at dawn, but today he felt the need. For too many things of the civilized world seemed to conspire against his natural being. Too many demands. Too much frustration. He needed to be here, now. He needed to remind himself of what is truly important in life, and to reconnect to these things and to what is beautiful.
He needed to make a ceremony..."
--from The Book of Ceremonies: A Native Way of Honoring and Living the Sacred by Gabriel Horn
2:31am "GO!" my internal alarm clock rings, rising me from an over-stuffed pillow on the living room floor, near a faux fireplace, in D & B's 2-bedroom craftsman - a location they will also be moving out of in a few days time. Under a clear sky, Jupiter twinkles, large and imposing, overhead. My trusty feet carry me back to my house, knowing full well I've forgotten two items in D's warm home - one a knitted-beanie made by a sister/friend/musician/farmer's market vendor, the other my reusable coffee mug. Turning right around, I retrace my steps in both directions - visiting a quiet 7-11 along the way to connect with the man behind counter. My acknowledgment of him - by simply inviting him into my world and making small talk - strengthens an energetic force field that surrounds his body, fills our shared space and that I can palpably feel. "This is why I am here," I remind myself. It's the winter solstice and the end of the long count of the Mayan calendar is here. "Go!" my body says.
5:30am Pulling up to a dark curb, two men arrive at Las Raices, ready to hike to the top of Cowles Mountain. R. speaks about a workshop in which people pay to practice honoring the divine within one another. "Yes," I respond, "and integrating this practice into our everyday lives - into our day-to-day intimacies - is where the work is." The three of us bubble our way up the winding trail, past throngs of solstice hikers. At the top, we drop into our own spaces of solitude and prayer, as the twilight sky begins to fill with the brilliant colors of sunlight. Tasting gratitude on my lips, I sit still in my inner knowing. When peaceful moments are punctured by the conversation of others and the barking of sensitive dogs, I giggle and chuckle. The era of "serious-ity" is over - this is all just pure fun.
"He needed to make a ceremony.
To honor the life that we live...
He says this to himself, as though responding to a question someone has asked. He stands on the wondrous shore where Time, like the sea, is ever constant and forever changing, where the windswept sands covers the mind's traces of what was, what is and what might be, and he turns toward the water that is always."
Breakfast is served. Fresh-squeezed lemons just pulled off of the grove of fruit trees, terraced behind a local family's home. Sitting side-by-side, we share the Lebanese food communally, in conviviality and conversation. Fingers as forks, a living room as field, and hours of mirth and glee unfold underneath the watchful eye of tradition and family values as a soccer ball dives and swoops onto a Persian carpet Sipping small cups of Turkish coffee, I ask for a reading of the remaining grinds. Mama is called to assist in the process. My cup, however, is conspicuously faint without traces of the thick sludge that usually lines the bottom of the porcelain cup. Mama translates it to mean that there is no clear path. I listen and respect her elder wisdom. And, I honor my inner knowing - "I am wide open."
"He turns in the direction of the Morning Star, and of the diverse realities and possibilities of this human experience, where the Sky and the Sea meet at the horizon and become one within an endless circle of wholeness, perfectly balanced, perfectly complete.
He cries out, aloud this time,
"THANK YOU FOR THIS LIFE I'VE LIVED. THANK YOU FOR THE ABUNDANCE OF GOODNESS THAT WILL SURELY COME."
I return to my beeloved casita, where SA is moving her things out and where M. and I eventually play catch up. Sitting on the balcony, overlooking a downtown San Diego skyline where pink embers of sunset light up the shortest day of the year, she reads as I enact her words:
"The acknowledgment springs from a deep place within, a sacred place where the conscious merges with the subconscious - the place where ceremony emanates. And, he says it again, with his arms raised, staring up at the sky, his outstretched hands open,
"THANK YOU!"
All this talking about reclaiming our birthright, about honoring our inner Kings and Queens, plays itself out. A divine melody, it smells like the sweet Magnolia flower, plucked from the bush today and now sitting in a bowl of water on my altar. Together, as royalty, we walk forward - hand in hand, loving each other for simply being, releasing the old patterns that no longer serve us, such as playing the victim with the "Why me?/Poor me" mentality, withholding our love out of fear for how it could be interpreted, jumping to the act of intercourse when connection is present, using sexual energy as a tool for manipulation and, instead, embodying our collective truth - we are kind, considerate, compassionate, loving, respectful, honoring, and harmonious lovers, brothers and sisters.
