Celebrant in Training - Into the Deep

by Fleur Hoole

I set off from home to my training weekend in the dark, and later whilst skirting the shores of Loch Lomond, the sky lightened on a grey, drizzly morning, the wind whipping up the steely waters.  Arriving early, I took a short walk to settle my nerves. Although I knew that I’d be encouraged and looked after by the Rites and Rituals ceremonialists, I was stepping into the unknown, unsure of the challenges ahead and whether I’d sink, struggle or swim.

As I looked across the water, contemplating the start of our training weekend, I recalled my first swimming lesson, starting on the edge of a chilly Olympic-sized pool under the blue skies of Cape Town, filled with trepidation and determination.  I remember gulping water, flailing about, being steadied by my formidable swim teacher, and eventually that sense of achievement when I managed my first 50-metre length.

Since then, swimming has meant many things to me – a fitness challenge, a time for quiet peace, a source of joy and excitement and, at times, fear.  I’ve had my share of scares in the water - jumping into fathomless pools desperately trying to surface for air, getting turned upside down in strong waves and being pulled out to sea in a rip-tide.  What I mean to say is, that even as a competent swimmer, unknown waters always carry a risk of being out of your depth.  And despite all the assurances from the Rites and Rituals team, the waters ahead felt deep and scary.  However, despite not knowing if I was truly up to the challenge, I was determined to dive in anyway…

One of our first exercises was to spend half an hour alone, looking out to the loch to listen to our quiet inner voice and to set our intentions for our training ahead.  In the damp, cold morning I meandered along the shore, gravel crunching underfoot as the waves gently broke on the pebbles.  It felt like the waters of the loch were life itself calling, a rhythmic heartbeat of sound and movement urging me to trust in the universe, in the opportunities ahead and that my teachers and guides would keep me safe as I learned to navigate these unfamiliar waters.  

I watched the play of the light across the water’s shifting surface, blown by the wind and pelted with rain.  I considered the nature of its flow, moulding itself around obstacles and slowly, relentlessly smoothing and carving out the rocky shores. I imagined the dark, pressured depths, where the wrecks of sunken boats from the past may rest, and the mysteries and monsters of the deep that might lurk unseen.  It seemed to me that the loch, nestled within the sentient mountainsides, held the past, the present and the future in its very nature and that this oneness was also reflected in my soul. 

Standing on the shore, I felt connected and held by the water, the landscape, the past and the possibilities of a deeper understanding of the world of spirit.  And in that moment, I felt utterly certain that joining the Rites and Rituals training and community and stepping onto this path was exactly what I needed.

Excitement and possibility bloomed in my heart and mind, as I contemplated this opportunity to seek, discover and share a journey into my soul that will change my perspectives on life.  I trusted that the training and community of celebrants would guide and support me as I ventured into new waters, and that although the journey would be challenging, it would be transformative, and bring greater depth, connection and meaning to my life, to my work as a celebrant, and within my community.  

I was no longer alone on the cold, dark edge of the water. There was a light ahead, and friendly folk to support, encourage and guide me forward.  Touching the water and holding a stone from the shore, I felt emotions rise as my intention became clear – I need only step forward with an open heart, and trust that this journey into deeper waters will transform me in ways I cannot yet imagine, leading me closer to the person (and celebrant) I am meant to become.

And so, my journey began, and as the weekend unfolded, it was all I hoped it would be – with moments of challenge, introspection and learning, balanced beautifully with stories, laughter, connection and cake!  I may still be in “the shallows” but the water’s fine, and I look forward to returning to Loch Lomond in a few weeks to dive deeper into my understandings of how ceremony and spirituality align and how this can enhance our capacity to connect meaningfully with one another as we move through life’s threshold moments.