Ash Wednesday

Seek a sanctuary,
Respect it, as it is holy,
Walk into it with a bare mind, bare feet

and plain clothing,
Nurture your body, mind and spirit

through a healing ritual,
Leave it with a pure heart

until you find your way to it again.
Master Jin Kwon

Wednesday, May 5th, was my final day of radiation therapy. It was the last of 30 sessions, six weeks worth of ritualistically lying down on a cold table while radiation therapists methodically moved my body into just the right position. I would leave each session with my esophagus ablaze, two very distinct freckled red patches, and three little tattoos that were used as markers to align the Star Trek-like machine that sent out a high pitch squeal while delivering the radiation.

My wife, Kathy (also a psychotherapist), and I agreed that this represented an important milestone in what has turned out to be a very interesting year so far. But how to mark this event? How to celebrate the ending of something so pivotal? This was especially perplexing since our usual manner of celebrating special events, steaks au poivre cooked to perfection and accompanied by a bottle of bold red wine with a nose of red berries and a finish of pepper, chocolate and just the right amount of tannin, was out of the question due to the lingering effects of esophagitis.

It was Kath who hit upon the perfect solution; burn the punch card that the therapist initialed every day to indicate that another session had been completed. This burning ritual would be done with the use of a sage smudge stick (given to us by a good friend, and Kath's self-proclaimed guardian angel), and an abalone shell. I was especially pleased with this idea after the final session of radiation turned out to be very anti-climactic. While I knew there wouldn't be balloons and cake, I was surprised to find that at the end of my final treatment there was no review of the impact of the radiation, no discussion about the state of my recovery and no meeting with the doctor so that he could tell me what a great patient I had been. It was made memorable, however, by my radiation therapist telling me that she would be praying that the treatments were effective and then saying, "I have a special song to play for you." With that, she tuned her iPod to the song "Hit the Road Jack."

At home that evening, Kathy and I stood on the deck with a few close friends. We placed the card in the abalone shell along with some dried sage. For the first time I shared some of the specific details about what it was like going through the radiation treatment process and then lit the card. I was surprised and pleased with how well it burned. Using the sage stick, Kathy then performed a Native American smudging ritual to purify my body and the air of negative energy. After brief words and hugs all around, we returned inside for the ritual opening of a bottle of champagne, and then the rest of the evening we celebrated Cinco de Mayo.

The next morning I took the ashes from the abalone shell and scattered them around our garden. I thought about our ritual and the importance of ceremonies like it during difficult times in life. Most of the rituals we develop are simply habitual patterns that tend to make life simpler; your morning routine from shower to work as an example. When done with intention and shared with others, however, rituals take on a deeper meaning that can be used to reframe difficult situations. In this way they become markers, not for life’s tragedies, but for its triumphs. This is of great importance when facing a health crisis as many of the routines we fall into are done in an almost hypnotic state. This can lead to mindless activities that actually hinder our recovery. Healing rituals, on the other hand, become mindful rest stops for the soul on it's journey through the profound mystery of life, and they reconnect us to those who join us along the way.