The Edge of the Forest

I put this picture of Spring lilacs up as my desktop picture. I open my laptop and I am stunned by the colour and the beauty. A simple picture taken on a Spring day. The same lilac tree is 3/4 buried in a snow drift. We are a monochrome world of white. So much snow. Every day. Every day! I need the promise of colour and warmth and fragrance to mediate my cabin fever. Is it just me? The cats have been stir crazy. Knocking things off tables and shelves seemingly just for the entertainment. I hear them galloping across the floor most of the night. The dogs too seem tired of the wintry drudgery and maybe its projection, but they seem listless at times. Well, not entirely. Miigwetch gets the rips and dives into the banks of snow with joy and abandon. When shovelling the deck and the walk for the 100th time, I toss shovel fulls at him to his delight. I wish I could find that rallying spirit. It has been a long long winter. Geographically and politically. That being said, we know that this too shall pass. Both dogs have started to shed, the birds move about the snowball laden trees, the forced bulbs are blooming, and every now and again, when the sun bursts through the grey worsted skies, I can almost remember the sound of Spring peepers. Pause for a moment. Can you hear them too?

There is an indigenous ceremony known as The Edge of the Forest Ceremony. I participated in this ceremony many times at Soul of the Mother Lodge at Six Nations near Brantford Ontario. The ceremony is the first of the new cycle. After the Contrary Dance in February, where the world is unwound and set right again, The Edge of the Forest Ceremony welcomes the new season. It is traditionally offered in March. Offered at a time when all the stories have been told, when the soup pot is thin, when claustrophobic anxiety peaks, and the call of the Other is heard in the lengthening light of each day. When the call has reached its moment, its zenith, the Elders rise and call for The Edge of the Forest Ceremony.

The Edge of the Forest Ceremony is first and foremost, a ceremony of condolence. The long and cold winter has borne witness to death and loss. Eyes are shrouded with grief. The long and cold winter has borne witness to death and loss. Throats are constricted with grief. The long and cold winter has borne witness to death and loss. Hearts are heavy with grief. Naming the grief is often the first step toward healing.

In the Arthurian legends, when Percival stumbles his way back to the Grail Castle, he has the good sense to ask the Fisher King, “What ails you?” What are your pains? What have you lost? What do you grieve? What a tender greeting. Can you imagine what it would be like if when we meet the Other in the mirror, on the street, in a social media post, or even in a screaming headline, we were to ask, “What ails you?” Ask and listen to the answer. Really listen. The quality of listening that is not formulating a response or rebuttal or justification; but rather, a quality of listening that is present. So present so as to hear. So present so as to be heard. Heard by the unheard. Seen by the unseen. Touched by the untouchable.

Words of condolence to the Other are the first words spoken in The Edge of the Forest Ceremony. Then, a swath of soft white doe skin is passed, each to each. The doe skin is used to gently brush across the eyes of the Other and wipe away the shroud. To brush across the throat of the Other and release the song. To brush across the heart of the Other and remove the heaviness. In turn, the Other does the same. If anyone of us cannot see, cannot sing, cannot love, so it is with all of us. We surely need the Other. The Other surely needs us. The indigenous people who practice The Edge of the Forest Ceremony know this.

We are still in February. This is still Contrary Dance time. The world is dancing in a counter clockwise motion. The world is still unravelling. Unravelling so that it can be set right again? Hang on. Don’t let go. Pray. Spring will come. The Edge of the Forest Ceremony is on the horizon. The whispers of the Other are rising in urgency. Hear them. Beneath the cacophony.

In the Arthurian legends, the second question that Percival asks the Fisher King is the most important. He asks, “What does the Grail serve?” The Fisher King, wounded beyond healing, turns to Arthur. King Arthur rises despite his wounds, rallies the strength to stand in the Truth. The Truth that guided and directed his whole life, and the lives of his people, the life of his lands. He rises in his true Kingship and and answers his Knight. “The Grail serves the Grail King.” It is said that when spoken thus, the veil between this world and the next parted. The fog lifted. The horizon gleamed. Avalon opened and King Arthur departed. I bet it smelled of lilac.

“Yet some men say in many parts of England that King Arthur is not dead, … and men say that he shall come again, and he shall win the holy cross.”

― Thomas Malory, Le Morte d'Arthur