Sunday, May 28, 2017

Dreaming as an Ancient Rite of Passage Ritual


Dreaming as an Ancient Rite of Passage Ritual

The way of dreaming is mirrored in the unfolding experience of a rite of passage journey.  Each time we lay to sleep we make severance, releasing our former lives, its concerns and actions of this waking world and slip into the unconscious realm. Like any process that touches the egoic self, there may be struggle in the letting go, a desire to hold on to thoughts and feelings that keep us in old patterns of engagement. Ones that do not serve but instead keep us awake assuming we will discover the way through but never do.

Yet there is an “emergent” potency that occurs when we consciously prepare to step into the dreaming world as a guide in the passage of healing as a dying to self and opening to the birthing awareness to the soul self. Could it be a desire to remember?

As we slip into the darkness of sleep a gateway awaits taking us into the threshold, the liminal space where the dream narrative comes to life. Where spirit in all its forms offers guidance weaved with the yarn of the universal and self-unconsciousness which reflects our ways of being within and without. Ways which have blocked and opened us to our true being and wholeness.

Upon awakening we begin the process of incorporation. In remembering and working with the dream we discover within its wisdom lies the gift we give to ourselves and our community. A gift of awareness that if embodied heals our pain and offers a glimpse of the path to wholeness.

This wisdom manifested in the waking world provides a dynamic ritual practice that synergistically changes our inner being, opening to the essence of who we are. This vision then comes alive in our daily interactions as we grow towards wholeness. A sacred gift of our passage given to all we encounter. One that deepens each time we heed the call of our dreams.


Dreams haunt reflecting the story of an exiled life. Memories torment the mind causing ripples of struggle that fight unconsciousness. Only exhaustion slips her into the darkness that finally brings sleep. Sleep opens to the soul of a dream forgotten by time and space. A reality she has yet to live. 

The Dream
“She stands facing a landscape of devastation. A mist of wet grayness thick and greasy fills the air. The land hangs before her a wasteland of collapsed buildings and empty streets filled with the remnants of an unfit guardian. Splatters of desperate and lost souls scourged for food and safety in alleys and burned out buildings.

She searches the terrain for her destination. Once discovered moves quietly and cautiously through the rubble. Her only protection these tattered clothes and battered boots.

Voices call to her in the darkness, a place she is all too familiar with.

“Stop now, you cannot make it, there is nothing to be found, and it is too late.”

Guarded yet ready she carefully steps forward avoiding the trash of this forgotten place.

She arrives at the station, a place only known in memories which held power. She waits on the edge of the platform as time pulsates like waves of emptiness and uncertainty. She waits, daring to know what has not been seen. She waits, holding her destiny, waiting to be release, yearning for freedom and begging to be awake. She waits and in the distance a speck of light shimmers as it draws closer.”

A dream reawakens a desire, a forgotten memory of hope. She becomes the dream as the dream is becoming her a rite of passage.