Atai - Becoming
She was dizzy with excitement, fear and pride... at last, she had completed the
annual Climb. The members of her tribe parted as she limped through on
bruised feet, cut and sore from gripping the cliff face. Their voices became
hushed, their eyes glittering with anticipation - would she now survive the
dive into the river far below? Atai focused on her breathing, the calm place in
her mind that she had learned to focus on with the WISE WOMAN who trained them
all ...she recalled how to slow her heartbeat in order not to panic as she
waited to burst back out of the river ... and stepped nearer the edge, clearing
her mind of the excited cheering and whispers of her tribe. She looked out over
the river, then walked to the very tip of the cliff. Curling her toes around
its rough edge, she gazed down at the waters of the river. Some of the clan had
tales of how it swallowed you if you were not worthy and spat you out when it
merged with the sea. But Atai knew, as she looked down, down and down beneath
her, that the river was a giver of Life, that it filled their thirsty mouths
with cool water and fed them fish from its clear depths. As she lifted her
arms to signal she was ready for this leap, this initiation/TRANSITION into adulthood, the
crowd gasped behind her. The adrenaline coursed through her body, AS Atai
focused on what lay ahead, determined to succeed. She crouched down low, then,
as quick as a dart, dived over the edge of the ancient cliff...
Atai fell fast from her rocky perch; it seemed such a long fall from above, but
suddenly the ice-cold grip of the river claimed her outstretched arms. Atai
kept calm, flicking her body around to face up and out of the waters - her
heartbeat slowed as much as she dared -knowing that if she took too long to
surface, the river would have no choice but to claim her for its own. With her
limbs working hard in the freezing water, Atai thrust upwards, her lungs
beginning to burn with the effort of not inhaling the water... she at last
burst out of the waters into the sunlight... and the air! Atai was almost
overwhelmed by the many emotions and sensations as her body tried to keep
afloat, breathe the cool air deep into her lungs, and grin all at the same
time; she was ecstatic! Then, a noise, faint and far above her. Slowly she
realised it was the sound of the clan, far above on the rocky cliff, cheering
and shouting in her triumph! Atai swelled with pride – even as she prepared for
her next task. Once she had heaved her weary body up onto the bank of the
river, Atai must now wait for the first animal to cross her path; be alert,
aware, and wait quietly until a creature did crawl, fly, or run past. Despite
the elation of her successful dive, she also felt exhausted and welcomed this
moment to sit still on the grass and await her 'spirit' or 'totem' animal. In
the sky, no birds flew overhead, the grass lay undisturbed by insects, the river
showed no sign of leaping fish. The air became still and heavy with intent, and
Atai wondered if her spirit guide would ever reveal itself.
As her breathing became more regular, and the damp of the waters dried on her
tingling limbs, Atai heard a faint drumming noise. Then saw, rising above the
trees in front of her, huge clouds of dust. The drumming was turning in her
direction - she rose to her feet as a herd of galloping horses burst out of the
trees and into the open space in front of Atai - her heart leaped as she
realised this magnificent animal was her spirit guide! Slowing a little as they
entered the clearing, some horses glanced around nervously, others were
snorting loudly. As they trotted towards Atai, one looked directly at her.
Fascinated, the initiate was compelled to walk forward a little - the white
mare walked out from the herd and walked towards the young woman; she held
out her palm, and the beautiful horse stretched out her neck and sniffed the
hand, nibbling the outstretched fingers with her bristly lips, making Atai
giggle quietly.
The young woman and the mare regarded each other, their eyes reflecting each
other’s understanding - the proud mare bent her head and allowed Atai,
trembling with delight, to lay her hand on the mare’s neck. The young woman and
the mare regarded each other, their eyes reflecting each other’s understanding
- the proud mare bent her head and allowed Atai, trembling with
delight, to stroke her flowing mane - then she turned slowly back to the
herd, and they began to trot out of the clearing and re-enter the trees.
Atai stood, transfixed by this momentous encounter, her heart pounding
with excitement and joy. The horse was considered a faithful guide to the Otherworlds.
For Atai and her tribe, it symbolized stamina, endurance, and faithfulness; the
mare especially was associated with the feminine aspects of nurturing and
fertility.
These ancient beliefs were well-known by the young woman (she had absorbed all
the stories and teachings of her elders, curled up at their feet each night by
the fire), who understood now that not only was her guide one of stamina and
endurance - borne out by completing this initiation at her young age - but her
journey was to be a meaningful and spiritual one.
Atai shook herself from her reverie, realising she had a long trek back to the
path (where one of the men would have been sent to help her home on their own
horses), and set off, light of heart and of foot, for she knew she would now
have the respect and responsibility she sensed she had always deserved...
'This
walk feels so different now', Atai thought to herself, as she picked her way
along the overgrown tracks that meandered through the forest. She knew all the
paths well, almost as though she had created them herself; Atai had always
explored the forests and rivers, learning the names and uses of the plants, and
the habits of the creatures that shared the land. Whilst her feet trod their
familiar route, Atai let her mind wander over the day's spectacular events. It
was if she had been dreaming – 'But,' she spoke out loud, 'It IS all true!’
“Are you so happy that you talk to yourself? “Startled out of her thoughts,
Atai looked up to see one of her clansmen waiting on his horse, grinning
broadly, with her mount standing beside him at the end of the path. Buka!'
- she blushed as she swung herself up onto the smooth, mottled back of her mare.
Atai, still flushed with the thrill of her encounter, quickly told him about
her dive, and the beautiful creature that had approached her. “Is your
companion still worthy of you, now you have both conquered the Initiation and connected
with the white mare?”, Buka teased her, though they both knew he was thrilled
with her success. Atai grinned. 'I think both she and my human escort will
suffice for now' she countered. 'Will all the tribe be back in the village when
we arrive?' - Atai knew there was always a feast following the test, whether to
celebrate the success, or acknowledge the passing of those who did not make
it........ she shuddered suddenly, remembering the sad acceptance in the eyes
of Sare's mother last year...Buka saw at once where her mind was wandering, and
urged his horse into a gallop, knowing Atai's mount would follow and that its
rider would have all such thoughts blown from her mind; Atai snapped her head
up and instinctively gripped with her knees, feeling her mare's muscles bunch
underneath her as she pushed forward to keep up with Buka's ride. She
immediately realised exactly what his intention was. Smiling, she crouched low
over her horse's mane, squeezed her legs tighter and willed the mare to run faster.
Atai lay almost flat against her horse's neck. 'Let us see how fast we can
fly!' she whispered to the mare, tightening her grip around its body. Buka’s
horse was only inches ahead now, and Atai was able to cut across a bend in the
path and steer her horse in front. “Now we see how bold she is!" cried
Buka joyfully as his cousin sped past, urging his ride into a gallop also, but
too late - Atai was glancing over her shoulder, the wide smile on her face
glimpsed briefly before she once more bent forward over the neck of her sturdy horse.
As the mare's hooves thundered down the old track, Atai looked down and watched
with admiration the grace with which the animal moved, each muscle contracting
and extending; ripples and shadows running across the surface of its skin, as
though a river was flowing over the horse - then sat up a little as she helped
the mare negotiate her way over some fallen trees - slowing a little just to
tense her hind legs, the little horse lengthened her neck and leaped over the
trunks and branches. ‘whoop!' Atai yelled - the mare's leap mirrored the joy in
Atai's heart.
Buka, close behind, was full of admiration for his cousin; although only
nineteen harvests had passed, she was unlike many her age. Even as a baby, she
had possessed a querying expression, one that told you she was one of the Old Souls.
Atai slowed her mare to a trot; the track widened as they neared the
village. Buka pulled his horse up beside her, just slightly further back
- "Why do you not ride head to head, cousin?" queried Atai. “This is
your day Atai" Buka smiled, "And I have had my triumphant rides into
our village, this is your moment. I have had the honour to be chosen to escort
you home - you must enter first, and I will be right behind you." Buka paused;
he knew Atai was not one for attention and she often slipped quietly out of
village gatherings when they threatened to overwhelm her, but today she would
have to remain until the end of the feast - he knew she would be needing
support to make it through the ceremony. “I know the thoughts passing through
your head, kind Buka, and I will be needing someone to keep me focused, I am
aware of that", his cousin smiled up at him. Atai slowed her horse
further, taking deep breaths, wanting to ride in looking as confident as
possible. 'Can I can appear unruffled? Can I use my breathing techniques from
the dive to help me here?' Atai asked herself and found the answer that was
returned to her was, Yes. ‘I return humbled by my passage into adulthood, full
of joy and gratitude' she murmured, sending positive thoughts out to the
ancestors, and the spirits of the trees and rocks around her. As Atai chanted
this to herself quietly, she focused on slowing her heart again, not as
dramatically as for the dive, but enough for her not to allow the tight band of
panic grip her chest and throat, as tight as the vines that almost choked the
trees around them; this image had often haunted her when she was summoned to a
large gathering. Buka observed the play of shadows upon Atai's face, and knew
she was preparing for what would be, for her, a potentially intimidating ritual
which marked the end of the Initiation...
As both riders fell into a more calm and reflective state, the two horses fell
into step with one another, and meandered down the path that led to the
village. Atai, head bent, concentrated on her breathing. The young woman's
green eyes half-closed; trusting her horse, relaxing into the rhythm of the
hoof-beats and her heart. The riders' attention was caught by the scent of the
ceremonial fires, and then they heard the excited chatter and singing of their
tribe. Atai rode forward into the clearing of the village where a great cheer
greeted her; her father stepped forward to help her from the horse, her sister
approached with handfuls of moss and herbs with which wrap Atai's swollen feet,
and her mother kissed Atai's forehead in the solemn tradition with which an
Initiate is greeted, then grinned and threw her arms around her daughter.
Suddenly, people were crowding, questioning, cheering, congratulating... the
wave of people swept them into the hut; her family managed to steer Atai
to the side where they huddled in corner, sank gratefully down onto the soft
furs; their time together now was limited and would have to wait until the
morning to be able to talk; so, quick hugs, trying to thank Keli, her sister,
as the cool, soothing herbs were wrapped tenderly around her feet and secured
with leaves, whispered congratulations, loving smiles - before the crowd finds
them once more and ushers Atai and the fellow survivors of the leap towards the
middle of the hut - for a moment she glimpsed the great table where their
leader was sitting, dark eyes watching each that danced and sang in front of
the fire. Atai peered through the smoke to see which other participants of the
Initiation were already arrived. The atmosphere was familiar, yet she felt the
extra excitement as today, she was to be honoured too.
The room grew hotter and louder as the last of the successful divers arrived.
Buka had pushed forward, seeking his cousin; his eyes found hers, and she could
see clearly his question reflected there - was she ok? Atai quickly scanned
down her body with her mind, and found to her surprise that yes, she was doing
fine, the crowd and the noise were bearable; she grinned back at Buka, nodding
- yes, yes, I am ok, she mouthed over the heads of the clansmen; she felt
exhilarated, for she had not once felt the tightness pull around her chest or throat.
Could the experiences of today have already changed her so much?
These thoughts were snatched away as she was grabbed by the shoulder and spun
around - the Initiates were required to dance around the fire as the rest of
the tribe sang their praises, stamping their feet as they chanted, the dancers
picking up the rhythm. The singing, chanting and dancing, the pungent fumes
from the herbs thrown into the fire, the heat of the flames, whose shadows
danced along the walls, the hypnotic sounds of the stamping and drumming, all
combined to send the dancers into something of a trance. The mesmeric pull of
the ceremonial rite tugged at Atai's mind and heart, and she was completely
absorbed into the beat; the ancient rituals, at once both comforting and
exhilarating, were calling to her soul and to her blood.
She was dizzy with excitement, fear and pride... at last, she had completed the annual Climb. The members of her tribe parted as she limped through on bruised feet, cut and sore from gripping the cliff face. Their voices became hushed, their eyes glittering with anticipation - would she now survive the dive into the river far below? Atai focused on her breathing, the calm place in her mind that she had learned to focus on with the WISE WOMAN who trained them all ...she recalled how to slow her heartbeat in order not to panic as she waited to burst back out of the river ... and stepped nearer the edge, clearing her mind of the excited cheering and whispers of her tribe. She looked out over the river, then walked to the very tip of the cliff. Curling her toes around its rough edge, she gazed down at the waters of the river. Some of the clan had tales of how it swallowed you if you were not worthy and spat you out when it merged with the sea. But Atai knew, as she looked down, down and down beneath her, that the river was a giver of Life, that it filled their thirsty mouths with cool water and fed them fish from its clear depths. As she lifted her arms to signal she was ready for this leap, this initiation/TRANSITION into adulthood, the crowd gasped behind her. The adrenaline coursed through her body, AS Atai focused on what lay ahead, determined to succeed. She crouched down low, then, as quick as a dart, dived over the edge of the ancient cliff...
Atai fell fast from her rocky perch; it seemed such a long fall from above, but suddenly the ice-cold grip of the river claimed her outstretched arms. Atai kept calm, flicking her body around to face up and out of the waters - her heartbeat slowed as much as she dared -knowing that if she took too long to surface, the river would have no choice but to claim her for its own. With her limbs working hard in the freezing water, Atai thrust upwards, her lungs beginning to burn with the effort of not inhaling the water... she at last burst out of the waters into the sunlight... and the air! Atai was almost overwhelmed by the many emotions and sensations as her body tried to keep afloat, breathe the cool air deep into her lungs, and grin all at the same time; she was ecstatic! Then, a noise, faint and far above her. Slowly she realised it was the sound of the clan, far above on the rocky cliff, cheering and shouting in her triumph! Atai swelled with pride – even as she prepared for her next task. Once she had heaved her weary body up onto the bank of the river, Atai must now wait for the first animal to cross her path; be alert, aware, and wait quietly until a creature did crawl, fly, or run past. Despite the elation of her successful dive, she also felt exhausted and welcomed this moment to sit still on the grass and await her 'spirit' or 'totem' animal. In the sky, no birds flew overhead, the grass lay undisturbed by insects, the river showed no sign of leaping fish. The air became still and heavy with intent, and Atai wondered if her spirit guide would ever reveal itself.
As her breathing became more regular, and the damp of the waters dried on her tingling limbs, Atai heard a faint drumming noise. Then saw, rising above the trees in front of her, huge clouds of dust. The drumming was turning in her direction - she rose to her feet as a herd of galloping horses burst out of the trees and into the open space in front of Atai - her heart leaped as she realised this magnificent animal was her spirit guide! Slowing a little as they entered the clearing, some horses glanced around nervously, others were snorting loudly. As they trotted towards Atai, one looked directly at her. Fascinated, the initiate was compelled to walk forward a little - the white mare walked out from the herd and walked towards the young woman; she held out her palm, and the beautiful horse stretched out her neck and sniffed the hand, nibbling the outstretched fingers with her bristly lips, making Atai giggle quietly.
The young woman and the mare regarded each other, their eyes reflecting each other’s understanding - the proud mare bent her head and allowed Atai, trembling with delight, to lay her hand on the mare’s neck. The young woman and the mare regarded each other, their eyes reflecting each other’s understanding - the proud mare bent her head and allowed Atai, trembling with delight, to stroke her flowing mane - then she turned slowly back to the herd, and they began to trot out of the clearing and re-enter the trees.
Atai stood, transfixed by this momentous encounter, her heart pounding with excitement and joy. The horse was considered a faithful guide to the Otherworlds. For Atai and her tribe, it symbolized stamina, endurance, and faithfulness; the mare especially was associated with the feminine aspects of nurturing and fertility.
These ancient beliefs were well-known by the young woman (she had absorbed all the stories and teachings of her elders, curled up at their feet each night by the fire), who understood now that not only was her guide one of stamina and endurance - borne out by completing this initiation at her young age - but her journey was to be a meaningful and spiritual one.
Atai shook herself from her reverie, realising she had a long trek back to the path (where one of the men would have been sent to help her home on their own horses), and set off, light of heart and of foot, for she knew she would now have the respect and responsibility she sensed she had always deserved...
Buka, close behind, was full of admiration for his cousin; although only nineteen harvests had passed, she was unlike many her age. Even as a baby, she had possessed a querying expression, one that told you she was one of the Old Souls. Atai slowed her mare to a trot; the track widened as they neared the village. Buka pulled his horse up beside her, just slightly further back - "Why do you not ride head to head, cousin?" queried Atai. “This is your day Atai" Buka smiled, "And I have had my triumphant rides into our village, this is your moment. I have had the honour to be chosen to escort you home - you must enter first, and I will be right behind you." Buka paused; he knew Atai was not one for attention and she often slipped quietly out of village gatherings when they threatened to overwhelm her, but today she would have to remain until the end of the feast - he knew she would be needing support to make it through the ceremony. “I know the thoughts passing through your head, kind Buka, and I will be needing someone to keep me focused, I am aware of that", his cousin smiled up at him. Atai slowed her horse further, taking deep breaths, wanting to ride in looking as confident as possible. 'Can I can appear unruffled? Can I use my breathing techniques from the dive to help me here?' Atai asked herself and found the answer that was returned to her was, Yes. ‘I return humbled by my passage into adulthood, full of joy and gratitude' she murmured, sending positive thoughts out to the ancestors, and the spirits of the trees and rocks around her. As Atai chanted this to herself quietly, she focused on slowing her heart again, not as dramatically as for the dive, but enough for her not to allow the tight band of panic grip her chest and throat, as tight as the vines that almost choked the trees around them; this image had often haunted her when she was summoned to a large gathering. Buka observed the play of shadows upon Atai's face, and knew she was preparing for what would be, for her, a potentially intimidating ritual which marked the end of the Initiation...
As both riders fell into a more calm and reflective state, the two horses fell into step with one another, and meandered down the path that led to the village. Atai, head bent, concentrated on her breathing. The young woman's green eyes half-closed; trusting her horse, relaxing into the rhythm of the hoof-beats and her heart. The riders' attention was caught by the scent of the ceremonial fires, and then they heard the excited chatter and singing of their tribe. Atai rode forward into the clearing of the village where a great cheer greeted her; her father stepped forward to help her from the horse, her sister approached with handfuls of moss and herbs with which wrap Atai's swollen feet, and her mother kissed Atai's forehead in the solemn tradition with which an Initiate is greeted, then grinned and threw her arms around her daughter. Suddenly, people were crowding, questioning, cheering, congratulating... the wave of people swept them into the hut; her family managed to steer Atai to the side where they huddled in corner, sank gratefully down onto the soft furs; their time together now was limited and would have to wait until the morning to be able to talk; so, quick hugs, trying to thank Keli, her sister, as the cool, soothing herbs were wrapped tenderly around her feet and secured with leaves, whispered congratulations, loving smiles - before the crowd finds them once more and ushers Atai and the fellow survivors of the leap towards the middle of the hut - for a moment she glimpsed the great table where their leader was sitting, dark eyes watching each that danced and sang in front of the fire. Atai peered through the smoke to see which other participants of the Initiation were already arrived. The atmosphere was familiar, yet she felt the extra excitement as today, she was to be honoured too.
The room grew hotter and louder as the last of the successful divers arrived. Buka had pushed forward, seeking his cousin; his eyes found hers, and she could see clearly his question reflected there - was she ok? Atai quickly scanned down her body with her mind, and found to her surprise that yes, she was doing fine, the crowd and the noise were bearable; she grinned back at Buka, nodding - yes, yes, I am ok, she mouthed over the heads of the clansmen; she felt exhilarated, for she had not once felt the tightness pull around her chest or throat. Could the experiences of today have already changed her so much?
These thoughts were snatched away as she was grabbed by the shoulder and spun around - the Initiates were required to dance around the fire as the rest of the tribe sang their praises, stamping their feet as they chanted, the dancers picking up the rhythm. The singing, chanting and dancing, the pungent fumes from the herbs thrown into the fire, the heat of the flames, whose shadows danced along the walls, the hypnotic sounds of the stamping and drumming, all combined to send the dancers into something of a trance. The mesmeric pull of the ceremonial rite tugged at Atai's mind and heart, and she was completely absorbed into the beat; the ancient rituals, at once both comforting and exhilarating, were calling to her soul and to her blood.