Candlelight
“I am judging people a lot” — I think. That impulse to make people wrong puzzles me. Their faces, their bottoms, their attitude. Everything and anything; all so very wrong.
I feel the arching forward of my back and shoulders and my contracted stomach wanting to repress the nasty eruption. I feel ashamed. The judgements that come to my mind are petty and nonsensical. Pedestrian. Echos of conversations I haven’t had in my head for a very long time.
I exhale. I feel lucky to have the Erotic Engine by my side for this kind of confronting moments where it’s so very easy to fall prey to the attachment to virtue. The crave to always have a high vibration with happy generous thoughts that show people we are beings of light. Light, light, light. Of course, we don’t have a “toxic” side. Not in a million years so let’s push down that nasty thought again and again.
I am human. Sometimes, I judge people for no reason and I have no control over it.
I am what I am, so be it!
I exhale a few times and I start witnessing my judgemental thoughts. I admit to myself and the world I am having them and very calmly I start inspecting them.
Nothing too interesting. Nothing too crude.
I do that for a while until more compelling stuff starts to happen around me. At the end of the day, I am taking part in a ritual that has barely started.
The ritual in question is a Conchero velación that also includes the raising of a Pantli (flag) during the Candlemas feast with Our Lady of Candle present at the altar.
I have been thinking about this specific ritual for a while. I know that on that exact day Imbolc is being celebrated in my adoptive land and many other places. I remember the last time I was in a sweat lodge in England on this very day a few years ago. With the ground frozen underneath my bottom, I told the temazcalero about St Brigid, my dear Bridie from Crossbones, and how on this day she carries the light as the land thaws.
I had that energy very present for months in relation to this ritual. However, I forgot about Yemayá, the sea Orisha venerated by the Baianos from Brazil, until about a week before when I remembered that her celebration also happens during Candlemass.
It was unusual to forget about her because she changed my life. After I met her children walking towards her church by the sea during her feast, every time I heard her name I couldn’t help but to turn around and look for the source. I wanted to know more about her.
Candlemass.
Candelaria.
The Feast of the Presentation of Jesus Christ.
The Feast of the Purification of the Blessed Virgin Mary.
The Feast of the Holy Encounter.
I scan my body repeatedly to allow my mind to release bursts of judgments.
I notice a pattern. I tell my teacher/Captain that I feel so much energy I feel static between my teeth; a sensation I haven’t felt for quite a while.
I ponder the synchronous feasts. I am sure each day has dozens of celebrations that can elicit meaning and connection and prompt someone to create relationships between them that may or may not be there.
I keep it simple. I admit that maybe all of it is meaningful for me but not for anyone else. With all the references I have, for me today feels way more than just about devouring holy tamales.
As the ritual progresses, I am more and more able to notice how intense the energy is. I notice how the actions and the words of people contain the spark that is being moved down into the ground.
Light comes down to heat up a cold soil and the seed it shelters.
In hindsight, no wonder I was feeling extremely judgemental. I had seen this time and time again; as energy goes up so do the attempts of the mind to control or regulate the energy fluctuations. One way to do this is to push for a climatic situation, so when it explodes all the extra energy is depleted. Something like a nice temper tantrum. Another way is to create disconnection by making things wrong. Everything sucks, so all the extra energy is used in ruminations and resentments.
By allowing my judgements out without a judgement (pun intended!), I have managed to defuse that rudimentary coping mechanism.
I feel more settled and in my body, able to be aware and fairly free of judgemental thoughts. I stay at the back, content with being a guest that helps here and there and, through that service, gets a hearty helping of the raised energy in question.
There was a time that for me there was no point unless I was visible, in the front of the room and in the middle of the action. Even if I wasn’t very capable. Even if I was struggling to cope. I derived a lot of value from being “somebody” and I was often envious of people who got to have important roles.
Nowadays it’s different, especially in Concheros rituals. I am in no rush to be heralding anything here. I am surrounded by very capable people who have spent many years, even entire lifetimes polishing themselves to do this type of work. Also, I don’t feel I have to prove my worth. I am ok with not being fit for the job. I am cool with being invisible for most because my thing right now, my comfort zone, is to observe, to learn and, hopefully, to find the connections. To decipher the language of the precious energies whilst being a wallflower.
Get Bernadette’s stories in your inbox
Join Medium for free to get updates from this writer.
That’s my preference because I still carry far too much trauma associated with learning and performance; so I don’t particularly jump to the opportunity to feel incompetent in front of an audience. If I am asked to do something, I do it though, but I don’t volunteer for visible roles. (To think that it used to worry me I would always be power-grabbing and fighting people to take on more responsibilities!)
Dawn has come and we only have a couple of hours to go. I cosy up on my seat after my teacher/Captain leaves. I don’t feel tired in the slightest despite being outdoors all night long.
Suddenly, I hear a voice in the distance “Tlazohteotl!”. I stand up speechless and I start walking towards the altar.
“Tlazohteotl!” — the same voice again. I say a timid “yes” and somebody prompts me “¡El es Dios!”
Ah yes, I correct myself and say “El es Dios”. My mind is still not used to replying that way. Another mistake for the performance anxiety bin.
With my wallflower game trashed, I listen to the job I am meant to do. Work with flowers. I ought to craft a baton, something I have never done before. My body shivers slightly anticipating the ego death.
I start and with the start, the frenzy. I get some help. I am gently ushered but I forget to breathe. I forget there is no rush. I am reminded. I am instructed. I am adjusted. I follow the instructions.
Suddenly, I am told to pull the thread hard and I damage the flowers.
B O T H E R A T I O N!
“That’s the magic” — a copal holder tells me. Surrounded by smoke I take in the instruction, gentle and firm but not too firm, for they are delicate.
I finally remember to exhale and I do so. I ground and connect with myself. I slow down a bit. I continue threading the medicinal herbs and the flowers.
I sense confusion. I ask questions. I inform myself. I feel my body.
I feel the peaks and the valleys. All the songs around me, building with me, through me. Going through the motions becomes easier and easier.
I am done.
Everyone is done and we are asked to express ourselves.
When it is my turn, my heart cracks open.
I feel physical pain in my heart centre. I thank the holy altar, the Virgin, the people around me and I speak about my moment with the flowers. I begin to understand what I have heard people say whilst doing a similar job.
Something is being decoded inside of me.
I feel so much gratitude. Soft, gentle medicine. An unexpected tiny seed that has been planted.
I cry as the ritual continues. I see others crying. Tears of joy because the energy called us and we came to fulfil a role and to be filled with their presence. To move as she moves. The blessing.
I feel successful.
I feel fulfilled.
I feel rich.
Later that day, I spend quite some time meditating on everything I have seen. I study what my teacher/Captain has perceived and unravelled from this ritual. I become aware of polarities playing but not in an adversarial way. I notice how Bridie and Yemayá, in particular, are part of an energy mirroring where I am now and where I am heading.
I realise this indicates a change in our relationship. This isn’t a bittersweet ending or the mark of a final arrangement. The spark I carry goes in a direction related and connected to these beautiful energies; nevertheless, this spark is different. The candle brought the light down and, in the location I am working on, the spark is been taken from the ground and lifted upwards.
The more I ponder, the more the mirror shows me the way forward.
I feel grateful again. I see the work of my unconscious and many people’s unconscious laying out the terrain with unimaginable perfection. If I had carefully planned the whole thing, it wouldn’t have been so resonant, so timely.
Finally, I thank the Erotic Engine for its help navigating a magical space so supercharged with energy. I thank its simplicity. I feel grateful for being able to reveal grounded magic.
If you enjoyed this post consider contributing financially.
Next Erotic Engine training starts in February. Sign up here.
