A reflection on initiation
I remember at university going through initiation to join a sorority. I didn’t particularly appreciate the ceremony, or “rite of passage”, required to become a member of such an organization, and so when the alarm went off the next morning for day two, I went running instead.
In many ways, I feel as though this has been my response to any initiation since—that being to run away.
Initiation is defined as the act of initiating, or the process of being initiated, with a definition of initiate being to cause or facilitate the beginning of.
If that’s the case, then 2020 has certainly been an initiation of sorts for all of us worldwide. It has tested our limits, it has upset status quo, it has presented obstacles for us to overcome—this at all levels: individual, communal, societal, political, global.
While initiation is an invitation for change and transformation, it’s not a guarantee of either. One has to decide for themselves whether to accept it or not. Initiation brings with it a seemingly endless array of trials and tribulations, of setbacks and separations, of the unknown and, with it, uncertainty, so much so that the mere thought of it triggers our sympathetic nervous system and our innate survival mode. Simply the idea of this unknown, this uncertainty can be so uncomfortable that often we would rather continue to bolster the life around us that we know might not be serving us, so that we don’t have to venture forward into the wild and encounter what there is to learn.
And so we run.
My latest invitation to initiation arrived in May across a twenty-day stretch by way of my breakup with my partner and my unexpected lay off by my employer—all within the context of a global pandemic.
How unlucky, how unfair, I lamented. But this wasn’t true. I was no more unlucky than anyone else, my circumstances were no less fair. Rather, these experiences were normal, human experiences, as was my suffering. As such, I was allowed to be broken-hearted and disappointed, and dare I say angry; and…I had to appreciate these emotions just as I would if they were love and excitement and joy.
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice.
Meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.
Be grateful for whatever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.
~Rumi
There is disruption that comes with initiation, and with it anxiety and fear, often due to loss of comfort, of routine, of identity. These challenges in turn bring about overwhelm, worry, self-doubt.
No wonder we run.
It’s easier instead to hold on (to dear life) to that which might only offer a false sense of security and certainty, but a sense of security and certainty none-the-less—less frightening than to embark on an initiation to…where?
As I received my invitation, I pulled out pen and paper (figuratively) and scribbled out my stock reply. “Thanks so much, but sadly, I’m not available. I’m going for a run. Maybe next time! Enjoy.” I addressed the envelope, put a stamp on it. I laced up my shoes, in fact, and placed my hand on the doorknob.
But I didn’t run.
Instead, I chose to sit.
Moment of truth—I had help with this decision. Many a friend and family member—and my therapist—came through for me during this time and prevented me from sprinting away in the opposite direction without looking back. They sometimes joined me for walks or occasionally even a jog around the neighbourhood to satisfy that itch. But they always led me back home, where I eventually sat, reluctantly or otherwise.
It is from challenging experiences that we have the most opportunity to grow.
While I can’t deny that I desperately wanted to run, as that was my mode of operandi, I also no longer wanted to fill the now-vast gaps of intimacy and identity with noise as I usually did. If I didn’t answer this initiation now, would I ever—finally—learn to step outside of my habits, to test my skills, to inhabit the unknown?
Many of my prior blogs to date have shared some of what I’ve done and how I’ve done it. But…what exactly have I learnt from this time in sitting? What have I achieved or accomplished? What have I changed about and for myself?
What I’ve Learnt
That I’m strong
That I’m resilient
That I’m kind
That I’m intensely passionate about life and opportunity
That I’m both strategic and creative and that this is a powerful combination
That I’m someone of integrity who must live a life in integrity
That I now have a far deeper relationship with myself, with others, with the world
That I’m not the same person who I was in May, and while I loved her, I love me more
And I am forever grateful, despite the heartache and profound sadness and confusion and longing; rather because of all of that am I grateful. It is from this descent into loss and grief that I have been able to connect to that which I’ve been ignoring—this growing incongruency between my external and internal identities and my need to unify them.
What I’ve Achieved, Accomplished, Changed
I’ve opened the door to love
In the past, after a heartache, I would have closed, locked and possibly bolted the door with respect to any new relationship, choosing rather to hold on tight to the hope that my partner would change his mind and come back, thus sabotaging what might have been with someone else. This came at too great of a cost, I’ve now realized, and therefore the door is remaining open this time. I want love, I deserve love, and while I still ache for love lost, my door to love is open for whomever next approaches and for whom I allow through.
I’ve opened other doors, too.
I’m becoming more assertive with expressing my needs and my feelings (new terrain for me)
I’m recognizing the start of the “spiral” sooner—of emotions, of ambitions, etc.—and pulling myself up and out more quickly (also new terrain for me)
I’m finding humour where I can (this is hard, but necessary)
I’m asking for help…a little more (I could use some help with this! Small attempt at humour—see above)
I’m working to stress less about stress itself and rather to focus on my reaction to it instead
I’m appreciating that action is not synonymous with movement; sometimes just breathing and sitting with what is happening in the now is action, of not brushing things aside but of being in the present moment
I’m connecting far more to my breath; rather than gripping onto my identity so hard that my only option is to gasp for air, I’m letting go more, allowing there to be more space to breathe
I’m focusing more attention on my values versus my fears, taking back my personal integrity with the understanding that it cannot be compromised—ever
I’m accepting the past and fighting like hell for the future
Transformation takes a long time. I am working to radically undo so much that has felt normal, still feels “normal”, venturing into unknown territory that feels anything but. It is very much a time of faith, of believing that this inner work will take me somewhere where I can have a far greater impact on the world around me.
And when I re-read the list above of lessons learnt and changes already happening, I’m so grateful not to have returned to my routine of attempting to “make it through”, as though this is enough. I don’t want to just “make it through” life. I deserve better, and I owe the world more. I want to embrace life!
I can’t yet at all understand the magnitude of change and transformation that I will have gone through by the time I get to the other side, if there’s even another side or yet another initiation. I do understand that I can’t control it, and I do understand that all things do change. As tough as this training ground is, I can feel that I’m already being guided internally with a more peaceful mind and a stronger intuition.
It was the right decision to run away that second day of sorority rush. And it was the right decision for me to not run away earlier this year. Though painful, I am grateful for those twenty days in May that have propelled me to where I am today. I am grateful to have accepted the invitation for more, not less, in my life. While not complete, I’m ripening into the person I’m meant to be.
People often ask me why I practice yoga. This is why. My decades-long yoga practice is why I’m strong enough to enter into this period of unknowning and uncertainty. Each philosophical lesson is an initiation in its own right, and every opportunity to move, to breathe, to be in my body and with my breath and mind connects me more and more to my soul.
I hope you’ll practice with me.
Grief changes us
The pain sculpts us
Into someone who
Understands more deeply
Hurts more often
Appreciates more quickly
Cries more easily
Hopes more desperately
Loves more openly
~Francis Weller
References:
Kempton, Sally. “7 Ways to Navigate Change Like a Yogi.” Yoga Journal, March 2, 2012.
Sarkis, Stephanie A., Ph.D. “10 Ways to Cope With Big Changes.” Psychology Today, January 19, 2017.
Villoldo, Dr. Alberto. “True Initiation.” The Four Winds, September 1, 2020.
