To believe in this living is such a hard way to go

My most dedicated readers have heard this-feel free to skip this entry.

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There are three states of ritual. If you were to ask Victor Turner. Which would be silly. Cuz he's dead and not very good conversation these days. But let's presume he could answer-he would tell you there are three states of ritual. Let me break it down to the basics. The beginning stage is one of impurity, the person undergoing the ritualistic process is unclean and Othered. By nature of this the person must enter into a Liminal state-a state that is neither here nor there, alive or dead, it is a state of unbeing. The liminal state calls for a transmission from non-entity to new being. That is the third state-rebirth. Upon reaching re-birth the person is able to be accepted into society as a whole and new being. These are the stages of ritual. We have all-at one time or another, in one form or another encountered these experiences. They are inherent to the human experience.
Today-I was ritualized.
In belief.
With a velvet Elvis.
And a dagger.
Oddly enough it was purifying.
I may not have felt better, but I felt very supported.
E brought in a box of stuff. Seemingly random stuff that it would take a stretch of the imagination to use to form a narrative.
I was cast out into the hall and my peers formulated an insta-ritual. The only break in the tension came from the gift of a Marlboro Light so that I could step outside to smoke and pass the time.
From the room I could hear the laughter and plotting but couldn't make out the plans. I was only deeply concerned.
A few minutes into my liminality e walked out telling me that she had been dispatched for more props. My concern grew.
C walked out of the room. "Come on M-if you would be willing to set yr water bottle down and come inside."
"I suppose I should strip myself of all worldy comforts for the event." Having already left behind my shoes and socks (nothing I am very fond of anyway that) I felt that dispatching the water bottle was only reasonable. I was naked, metaphorically. There was no materials of comfort with which I could commune in the face of my ordeal. For ritual is ordeal. I somewhat despised my peers for their absence at the moment. But also forgave them, for they need not ritual for success, they have actual knowledge. I need transference.
I was made to kneel before the insta-altar. Killed by a dagger to the heart, my impurities removed and flaunted like the last doughnut. Drops of tincture were placed upon the representation of my old state and it was rendered new and revived. I was low to the floor, struck, with socks with images of Elvis on each shoulder, a velvet Elvis placed before me. (That boy from Tupelo, he's the king and he oughta know...) I had no power, I was low and at the mercy of my peers. A ridiculous hat was placed upon my head, a wooden apple given to me, to represent the knowledge that I had. A hand rested on the hat, telling me that I had the sum knowledge of my education. Mardi Gras beads were placed around my neck,to represent the riches of my knowledge, and all the jewels I would be able to afford with my degree in folklore.
I was freed from my liminality and asked to speak a great truth. Here is my truth, that I could not speak because I wasn't prepared at the time.
Thank you. You who I have only had contact with in context of school. You that know so little of what I have gone through for this degree. You that shouldn't have to care. Thank you, this game of ritual means a great deal to me. Much more than I could ever say out loud. It means that I am not undertaking this task alone, sometimes I think that I am. Usually I think that I am entirely alone. You remind me, with yr candles and stories and the taking down of yr hair and the wonderful acting out of character and performance of meaning, you remind me that I am making this journey alone (as do we all, as there is no other option for some things) but we are in similar situations.
This, is more important than I could be comfortable saying.
Sure, it was silly. But ritual is far more important than we, as intellectual advanced beings care to admit. There is an awareness of place, both in community and in the world that comes from ritual.
I am making too much of this.
But as it was only me, as I was the only person to whom these actions pertained, something that is not so in any other case in this whole debacle that has been the program, I would rather like to think that it is meaningful.
I plan to make it meaningful, as I am in desparate need of something to hold on to.