When You Stumble Upon a Witchy Ceremonial Circle in the Woods

Two days ago, the rain broke and the sky opened to blue. This after a full week of torrential rains had slammed the foothills of the Sierras. Plans for hiking and trail running and soaking up sun were dashed, subsumed by a settled quiet as my friend and I nestled inside by a fire, read books, worked, visited. I welcomed the rain and the tranquil respite it brought, for the West has been so parched for so long that rain has become a wonder.

Once the sun re-emerged, however, I felt my spirit re-emerge. Admittedly, I am a sun worshiper—as if part plant, my chlorophyll rejoicing and spinning sunlight into limbs, or part reptile, a poikilothermic creature soaking up the sun’s heat to power my own. [Don’t you love the lexicon of science? Poikilotherm (noun): an organism (such as a frog) with a variable body temperature that tends to fluctuate with and is similar to or slightly higher than the temperature of its environment: a cold-blooded organism (Merriam-Webster).]

At first opportunity, I took to the trails, winding my way along footpaths softened by blankets of damp pine needles, skewers of sunlight piercing through thick canopy and alighting the trail. My body softened. Not long into my excursion, I spied a clearing ahead. Curious, I slowed and veered off the trail, walking towards the opening. Soon I noticed a series of sunshades dancing above, and beneath, a ring of tree rounds came into focus. Ahhh…a sacred ceremonial circle….tucked unassumingly into the forest. I approached and slowly entered, paused, and continued on into the center. I stopped, breathed, and took it all in. Paid it reverence.

I began imagining the sacred ceremonies that might occur here—women gathered in sisterhood to shepherd in new lives or to shed skins beneath a full moon. Children coming of age with elders to guide them in rites of passage. Men converging to tap into their grounded masculine powers. Communities gathered in prayer for Mother Earth and all her wisdom and offerings. I envisioned crystals and candles, flowers and herbs, fire and water. Ceremonial garments adorned with silks and beads, bodies blazing with ink and paint and dazzling with jewels. Soft whispers and loud bellows, asanas and rhythmic tribal dancing, laugher and tears. Words, gestures, glances. The beat of a drum, the song of hearts. All of it shared ritual designed to peel away the veneers of indoctrination and foster deep connection with self, each other, the planet and the larger spiritual forces around us.

Our culture is suffering the decline of cultural rituals. The waning influence of religion, the rise of technology, the commodification of everything—including childhood—has left so many unmoored, swirling in a chasm of emptiness and confusion. As detailed in The Erosion of Ritual in Modern Life: Navigating a world without formal ceremonies and rites of passage by Steven Mintz in Inside Higher Ed, the loss of ritual has profound implications for contemporary society: It’s altered “how we experience the annual calendar, diminishing the communal and celebratory aspects of seasonal and cultural festivities”. The loss of coming-of-age rituals has affected “individual identity formation and community bonds”. We’ve lost collective grieving rituals, leaving us without “shared practices to navigate loss”. A decline in seduction rituals has contributed to more transactional romantic relationships, the loss of myth and symbolic language simplify our understanding of history and of human behavior. We’ve even lost expressive power in our use of language with a shift away from the use of metaphor and figurative language and a loss of vocabulary.

These losses are indeed extraordinary. What’s missing from this discussion, however, are losses that, to me, are even more profound—the loss of ritual and remembrance embodied by indigenous cultures, by pagans, by the wilderness worshipers among us, of our deep and innate connection to the land, the waters, the air, to all of creation; the loss of wonder and awe; the loss of love; the loss of ancestral knowledge; the loss of a sense of responsibility to it all. In the end, it all translates to a loss of soul.

“Ceremony can bring the quiescent back to life; it can open your mind and heart to what you once knew but have forgotten.”

~ Robin Wall Kimmerer (Braiding Sweetgrass)

Through worldly travels, adventure into remote wilds, and time spent in the presence of initiated elders, I’ve been fortunate to have been initiated into some of these other ways of seeing the world. Over the years, I’ve participated in many circles and rituals and convened a few of my own. Women’s circles, talking circles, sound healing ceremonies, breathing circles, initiatory rituals, rites of passage, vision fasts. Place-based experiences have offered glimpses of the numinous—the deep thrumming energy that surrounded me as I sat in mediation in a dark cave in the subterranean bowels of a pyramid in Mexico, the pulsing sway that held me in a tiny candle-lit monastery perched on the edge of a windswept cliff and buffeted by the wind, high in the Indian Himalaya, the repeated approach of a tiny hummingbird—as if delivering a message—as I sat alone in the desert. Unseen energies all, ushering in a sense of wonder and awe, love and gratitude, for the incredible gifts of beauty, abundance, and life we’ve been offered. I take none of it for granted.

The great Joseph Campbell said, “A ritual is the enactment of a myth. And, by participating in the ritual, you are participating in the myth. And since myth is a projection of the depth wisdom of the psyche, by participating in a ritual, participating in the myth, you are being, as it were, put in accord with that wisdom, which is the wisdom that is inherent within you anyhow. Your consciousness is being re-minded of the wisdom of your own life. I think ritual is terribly important.”

I agree with Campbell: I believe ritual is terribly important—providing a means to access deep inner wisdom, to find belonging, to experience the numinous—perhaps even critical to the survival of our souls, our communities, all of creation. In the words of Ken Kesey, “Ritual is necessary for us to know anything.”

If you feel called to do so, I invite you to share with us your reflections on the role and importance of ritual in your life. Do you take time to meaningfully incorporate ritual into your life? If not, does the idea excite you? Intimidate you? How might you benefit from enhancing these practices?

xo Wendy