2.6 Ritual aspects

The Sacred Voyage: a holotropic perspective on mental health

‘It has always been the primary function of myths and rituals to provide the symbols that further the human spirit, as a counterweight against all those ongoing human fantasies which tend to slow its development. In fact, it is very well possible that the frequent occurrence of neuroses in our society is a result of the disappearance of such an effective spiritual aide. We remain focused on the unbanished imaginings of our childhood and are thus averse to the necessary passages into our adulthood.’ (Joseph Campbell).

Our Western culture lacks such rites of passage to mark the transition into adulthood. We may have rituals such as birthdays, getting a driver’s license, graduating from university, getting your first mortgage, moving away from home or other events that are associated with growing up, but none of these rituals truly mark the moment of leaving adolescence behind and entering adulthood. Adolescents are often caught by surprise by adult life because the associated perks and rights also bring along many obligations and responsibilities which seem to creep up on the person involved. Also, many adolescents (and other, older people) seem to lack a place in society. Schools and universities may offer some kind of community, but the outside world often seems more like a large collection of anonymous individuals.

In primitive societies rites of passage towards ‘becoming’ are intended to release adolescents from the influence of their parents and help them take an independent place in society. The following excerpt shows a good example of such a rite of passage or initiation.

Malidoma Somé, a member of the African Dagara tribe who, as a young boy, was kidnapped by Jesuit priests and raised to become a priest himself, escaped his captors late in his adolescence and returned to his tribe. His people were worried because he had missed the crucial initiation ritual in their culture. Eventually, it was decided that Somé could go through the ritual with the younger boys. Here, he describes the initiation instructions given to him by the person who led the ritual:

‘Somehow, what he told me didn’t sound at all strange to me, or, as I later found out, to any of the others. It was as though he was describing something we already knew, something that we’d never questioned, and had never been able to put into words.

This is what he said: “The place where he stood was the centre. Everyone possesses a centre that he gradually grows away from after birth. Being born is losing touch with your centre, and to develop from being a child to becoming an adult, is like walking away from it. Your centre is both inside as well as outside yourself. It is everywhere. We must realise that it exists, then find it and get in touch with it because without our centre there is no way to tell who we are, where we’ve come from and where we’re going.”

He explained that finding our centre was the goal of the Baor (the initiation ritual). This school specialised in repairing the worn out, the decrepit, results of thirteen rainy years of existence. I was twenty years old. If I’d have stayed at home I would have gone through this seven years ago. I wondered if it would not be too late for me, but then realised it was better late than never.

“Nobody’s centre is like anyone else’s. Find your own centre, not your neighbour’s, not that of your parents or your ancestors but yours, and yours alone.”’

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