The Hero's Journey - A Ritual

Originally written on: Friday, 15th April 2011


It seems like yesterday when I stumbled across Phoenix Institute and the Transpersonal Counselling diploma. Now I find myself at the end of Module 1. Wow, time really does fly when you are having fun.

My intuitive feeling that I had finally found what I’ve been searching for was validated the minute I arrived on day one of the course. Fellow students, teachers and staff all on the same wavelength…I was finally home.  Surrounded by people with whom I could be myself. No need for pretenses, no need for masks.

From a learning point of view, it has certainly been an interesting 6 days. The first week covered mainstream and transpersonal counselling, Freud, Maslow and Jung, consciousness and altered states of consciousness, shamanism and shamanic healing. I had entered through the doors of my own personal heaven.

 Week 2 concentrated on basic counselling skills. Although I have been counselling for a few years now, it was an interesting experience to have to practice with, not only ‘pretend’ clients, but people that are fast becoming friends. On a personal level, I realised just how uncomfortable it can be to talk about personal problems. I always considered myself quite an open person, but this week I discovered just how much I hold inside myself. I suppress feeling and memories and I wasn’t even aware that I was doing it.

The big test came yesterday, the last day of Module 1. Adam had warned us that there was something big planned for our last day. I doubt that any of us guessed what that would be.

The day before we had worked on loops and had begun to identify some of our personal wounds. That in itself had been difficult and quite intense. Compared to yesterday though, that was just skimming the surface.

The day began with The Journey of the Hero. We spent the morning mapping our own journey of a time in our lives where we had a crisis. Not just any crisis, but one that was the most painful. As soon as Adam uttered the words “painful” one event sprang to mind, but, as I often do, I tried to avoid what initially came up, and instead told myself I would choose another crisis which was obviously much less painful. After all, I had worked through that crisis already, there was no need for more work. There was no need to dredge up those excruciatingly painful memories again.

Unfortunately – or fortunately depending on how you look at it – the battle of choice between life crises, did not last long. I knew which one I had to choose.

And so the journey back in time began….

Mapping the experience wasn’t as hard as I though. The mapping only skimmed the surface, it didn’t go into the deeper, darker emotions of that time. Next came the fairytale, and here is where I began to come undone. The process just didn’t flow, and I couldn’t understand why, as writing was a passion for me. I never had a problem expressing myself in writing. So why did everything I wrote seem so wrong?

After the second attempt, I decided to take a short break. Upon returning I chose to move on to drawing the three stages – situation/change, crisis/chaos, turning point/return. All too soon I realised that I was blocking myself. I sat for the longest time just starring at a blank piece of paper. ‘Breath, breath’ I told myself. I closed my eyes and slowly took myself back to the darkest, lowest and most painful period of my life. All the memories and emotions came flooding back, trickles at first, and slowly turning into a stream. When I opened my eyes, I knew I couldn’t hide or suppress anymore.

From that moment I found myself drawing shapes and colours without much conscious thought. My hand was directly connected to the memories and feelings now, and I allowed the process to happen. I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes a few times, but held back. There would be time for release later.

Although my drawing flowed and was complete quite quickly, my fairytale was a different story. Once again, I found myself starring at a blank page. How could a write a fairytale about my darkest experience? It wasn’t a fairytale, it was a nightmare! Once again, I closed my eyes and travelled back in time. My resistance dropped once again, and there I was, in that dark void. It was at that moment the words came.

Although it was a difficult experience, it also gave me a newfound understanding of my current issues and their link to my past, particularly that one experience. I knew then that I had tapped into the journey I would be taking on this course.

One hour lunch break and we were back in class once more, excited about the afternoon. After all, we would soon find out what the final experience of the module would be, as Adam had promised. The tools – a ball of string, lama urine (not as bad as it sounds, the aroma is actually really nice) and a drum.

After a sharing session, where we shared our fairytale and discussed our journey drawing in groups, we had to move all the chairs to the sides of the room.  Adam proceeded to mark the floor into 3 sections with the wool. It occured to me that it very much resembled the three sections of the hero’s journey. It couldn’t be. Surely not.

The sections did indeed mark the hero’s journey. Immediately I could feel panic rising inside me. Our mission was, through bodily expression, to depict our journey through the crisis we had previously mapped out. To help this process, we took a handful of the lama urine, rubbed it on our hands and faces and breathed in the aroma (like I said earlier, the scent is really nice). The aroma is what fascilitates state change.

Up until I inhaled the aroma, my heart was beating a million miles an hour with panic and anxiety. Expressing my emotions in front of a room full of people was way out of my comfort zone. As time ticked by, as I watched others go throgh their journey, as I connected and resonated to each and everyone of them, I knew that I was in the right place at the right time. The beat of the drum was mesmerizing. I could feel myself shifting between the conscious state of fear and an altered state of deep calm.

Stepping forward, I closed my eyes. In that instant, I could feel the beat of the drum deep in body, right in the centre of my solar plexus. At that moment I was transported back to darkest moments of my life. Fear, pain, abandonement, loneliness, unworthiness all came flooding back. I felt myself standing on the edge of an abyss, I felt myself giving up, willing the pain to go away, and then….I took a step forward and I was plunged into darkness. Surrounded by nothing. All the emotions came flooding back like demons, reminding me of that moment, the moment I gave up. I was back there again. Reliving every single moment. I wanted to disappear, I wanted to die.

And then, in the centre of my exhaustion and despair, a glimmer of light. A tiny little flame whispering to me to never give up. In the centre of the abyss, in the centre of the pain, I realised I had to survive…to teach others…to teach others how to survive.

The journey I took yesterday may have been short, but it was the most powerful I have ever experienced. Surrendering completely is frightening. Possibly the most frightening thing I’ve ever had to do.

The trip from school to home is a bit of a blur. I remember the train ride, I remember coming home, breaking down in tears, lying on the couch and spending the whole night from 6pm shifting between altered states. I would be awake one minute and in deep sleep the next. My body feels foreign, my mind is quiet. Food is a necessity not an option it seems.

Am I ok? Nowhere near it. But I know that I will be ok.

This is my new journey and I welcome it with open arms.