The Power Is In The Ritual

As I stood at the counter of the trading post hurriedly adding strips of packing tape to a boxed order I needed to ship, I began to worry that I would miss my deadline. Dave the UPS driver would be arriving any minute, and I needed to send this package with him that day. So I was a little preoccupied when our friend Austin poked his head in the door and declared, "The Power is in the Ritual!" Looking up at my thoughtful friend, I said the first thing that came to my mind. "No . . . the Power is in the Woman; at least the women in my house!"


Design by Damian Jim

Austin gave me a frustrated, "How can you be so dense" look, and moved towards me in his sliding, shuffle-like manner. Austin is a poet and thinker; he is forever planting seeds of thought in my mind, hoping they will germinate and bear fruit. On that day it seemed Austin was serious about his well-considered opinion and wanted me to understand it as well. Unfortunately for Mr. Lyman, I was in an antagonistic mood. I assured him I was thoroughly aware of the meaning of my words and had often considered the implications of a coup, but decided it was more prudent to leave matters of state to more experienced individuals.

Austin placed his palms flat on the glass counter in front of me to emphasize his point and said, "I am talking about belief here, not issues of Mars and Venus!" Looking at Austin's hands on my newly polished display case, I said, "I believe I am going to have to clean this case again, because you are smudging my glass!" Over the years Austin has become acutely aware of our perturbing manner of altering the direction of simple conversations. I blame the problem on Steve, because I was not nearly as bad about practicing the craft before we started working together full time. Which of us is considered the worst, or best, at the art is a matter of debate, or misdirected comment as it were.

Austin shook his head in frustration, and said he did not have time for such nonsense, but thought the message was important for me to consider. He made me write the quote on a scrap of paper and swear an oath to at least think about it. As Austin headed out the door, I sent him a parting shot, saying that I had often cussed, most vehemently, concerning my household power struggle, but other than a short-lived sense of gratification from swearing openly, I had received no significant long-term satisfaction. Austin gave me a hostile look and said, "I' know exactly what you mean".

That darn note and the intense look of frustration on Austin's face have been floating around my desk and mind for months now. Much like one of McKale's morning ditties that I cannot get out of my head the rest of the day, Austin's comment was firmly implanted in my memory. I have thought about his statement a lot over the last few months and have tried to focus on just what he meant. I assume he was speaking of the Navajo people and the ceremonies they practice in order to heal themselves of all manner of ailments.

Since there are few scientifically qualified medications used in these ceremonies, there must be something more the medicine men draw on to bring about relief. I once spoke with an evangelist who swore he had helped bring about the cure of a young woman suffering from an advanced case of incurable breast cancer. This energetic and outspoken individual said he had asked a crowd of 20,000 people to come together and focus their love, prayers and hope on this young woman in order to heal her. According to the preacher, the young lady is alive and well 20 years later and claims that one night of high-powered, highly concentrated energy cleansed her of the disease.

Navajo ceremonial practice has been well documented over the past century. Everything I have ever read on the subject indicates that belief and participation are the key to the cure. In the old days, whenever a ceremony was conducted every individual in the surrounding country attended; often several thousand people would show up. It was thought that residual healing occurred in those who participated as well. The patient was not the only one who benefited from the ceremonial act; the medicine man, the participants directly involved and those simply observing were also healed. All one had to do was believe wholeheartedly to give and partake of the benefits.

Since Austin first intruded into my consciousness, he has caused me to read a number of books on traditional and nontraditional healing practices. My personal interpretation points to the belief that one must truly embrace the ritual in order to realize a positive outcome. It seems the human mind has the ability to convince the body that it can evict any and all poisons, toxins or disease by simply having faith in the power of ceremonial practice. Myth, magic or smoke and mirrors aside, the power of the mind is an awesome medicinal tool.

The more people I speak with on the subject, the more convinced I am that Austin was right; the power is in the ritual. Not only in the tradition of the Navajo, but in most or all other cultures as well. When people get together to practice ritualistic tradition and focus their positive energy amazing results occur. I am sure there is much more to learn on the subject, and I look forward to getting into belief and ritual on deeper levels. It seems that as human beings we are all connected on one level or another; community, ritual and tradition provide us a sense of emotional belonging and empower us to heal ourselves and others in mysterious ways. I concede Austin's subject matter was worth looking into, but next time he's polishing the glass.

With warm regards,
Barry, Steve and Team.

Copyright 2006 Twin Rocks Trading Post