Lost Rites

We humans used to know how to navigate transition.

Not with to-do lists or new tax brackets, but in a deeper, wilder sense. The soul sense. The walking-through-fire sense… That leaves ash on your skin and stars in your eyes.

In countless traditional cultures, rites of passage were woven into the fabric of life. 

They were designed to help who you were die, so that you can emerge anew.

Childhood to adulthood. Apprentice to artisan. Wanderer to elder.

There were moments, experiences, structured and sacred, that said: 

“This is no longer who you are. This is who you are becoming.”

They weren’t just symbolic ceremonies. They were consciousness-expanding thresholds. Challenges that stretched the psyche, invited wisdom, tested your courage, and marked time’s passage in a way the heart could understand.

Whether you embarked upon a vision quest, went through an initiation into a craft, or sat in solitary starlit vigil, you returned an expanded version of yourself.

But in modern Western culture, most of us never get that.

The closest thing we have is the cookie-cutter ‘graduate high school, get yourself a degree or three, then a job, a partner, and have kids’ that’s foisted upon everyone.

Having stepped away from the foisted path, I may feel this absence a tad more keenly. But regardless, for most of us, there’s no ordeal. No cave to enter...

Just drifting aimlessly from one phase of life to the next, half-knowing we’ve changed but never fully stepping into our expansion. Instead of initiation, we get transactions. 

Diplomas, job offers, gym memberships, and utility bills.

The absence of these rites isn’t without consequence.

We long for transformation, but lack the maps. 

So the mind spins.

The heart grieves.

And the soul waits patiently for someone, for something to say: 

“This is where the old ends and the new begins.”

We’re missing not only tradition, but honouring the upgrade of awareness that comes from being witnessed and stretched at the edge of our comfort zone. 

Without that, we risk remaining half-baked, fragile versions of ourselves. Tasked with big responsibilities, and given only the faintest of maps.

Unfortunately there’s no Chief of Initiation Rites to usher you forward.

Instead, you can create your own rites. 

Quiet ones. Weird ones. Personal or collective. 

You can bring intention to the thresholds you cross.

You can write your own initiations, or walk with others through theirs.

The hunger is still there, ancient and echoing. Calling to us all.

I bring this up because I’ve been pondering embarking on a Rite of Passage of my own design. One I’ve tiptoed around for too long. I’ll share the specifics when relevant. 

For now, enjoy pondering our cultural absence of rites of passage.

With love from the forest,

~ Alexander