Human ReUnion Ceremony in the Magpie Wheel Stone Circle 2016
Men’s story – by Jay Jacoby
The Woman’s story – is told by Joanna Watters
Something big was happening, exciting and scary, as nobody could know the depth of feeling that was about to be called up. I knew I wanted to experience this with my wife and that meant ‘palming off’ our boys.
Immediately, I had to look at how these words tumbled so easily out of my mouth.
I know there is an inherent power in people who look – at themselves, their community and the planet. A gathering of more than a hundred women who are looking quite intensely at healing a very old, very deep wound in our human makeup is exponentially more powerful. Add several indigenous elders from all over the globe… This was going to need space. Big, safe space.
Pat McCabe, the Diné Navajo visionary of the Human Reunion, gave the men’s circle a simple task: ‘protect the physical and spiritual space while the women attend to the ceremony’.
Simple. And, big.
To stand in Centre Fire, feeling Embercombe and the quality of men who answered the call to be present was reassuring. Men from all walks of life, differing heritage and means, and one purpose – to hold this space.
At the ceremony, we used the elegance of the land to help us receive the women, along with our language, body and spoken.
‘Can I take your name?’, wasn’t going to work at the registration table.
This ingrained language is what we were working to remedy. We now utilised invitation, care, respect and honesty. We were sentinels, guardians of these women, some of whom didn’t expect any involvement of men. We had to instil trust.
The power of the gathering, just for morning tea at the dining yurt, was palpable! The power of communion in the stone circle was life changing.
The men’s circle became the ‘cellular wall’ around the ceremony. The nucleus raged with beauty, harmony, reverence, heartbreaking sadness, release, anger, acceptance, willing, love and stillness.
We held the space. We kept the fire. We stood at the edge. We were invited in. We were of service. We were seen. We reunited.
I felt all of it and I made a promise. To feel the anguish of separation of the masculine and feminine and to feel the power of its reunion is to return to true humanity. My promise to remain in communion has much gravity and affects every aspect of my life and those of my wife and sons and family. My experience thus far is strong and returning to a knowledge beyond that will take support.
Of men, and women, who are looking.
