The other part is something I talked about back in March, which is health issues. And reminded by a letter of introduction from someone potentially interested in group work with me, I thought I’d take a moment to lay out some of my thoughts about the intersection of health and Craft work. This part deals with the personal bit, and my internal observations, part 2 will deal with how I think this impacts group work more broadly.

Quick personal update:
Now, the short version of my health stuff is that I’m doing a lot better. (My test results at the beginning of July were back in the normal range on all sides, and I’ve got much closer to my normal level of energy and concentration.) That said, the road back has been different than I’d expected. Not better or worse. Different.And that’s made a difference in my religious practice.

Add to this that there’s a reasonably decent chance that to get a job in my field, I’ll end up having to move. (I love Minnesota and the upper Midwest, but New England also holds a lot of my heart, and I have a number of friends and family there, and the job prospects are somewhat better.)

Both of these have meant some complications for group work. I have one very wonderful student-if-we-get-to-move-forward, and I’ve had a couple of other emails of interest in the last few months. I’m doing my best to be up front and honest with them that right now, it seems like a mostly-hiatus until I figure out the job stuff makes sense.

Basically, I’m happy to do some initial exploration with people who are interested the group, but not start substantial training. Plus I need some time to rebuild my reserves before trying to run group ritual regularly again, since I’m needing to devote a lot of attention and focus to the job hunt plus related tasks (like figuring out how I’d pack and move quickly if I got a job in another area and weeding out old clothes/books I no longer need to own/other such tasks that would be good to have done no matter what happens.)

So, on to the background:

Now, as regular readers might remember, it’s not like this chronic medical issue thing is new to me. I’ve had an asthma diagnosis since I was about 19, and migraines since I was 15. These days, I manage both of them without prescriptions (other than a rescue inhaler for the asthma that I rarely need): I’ve made a lot of lifestyle changes to make that possible.

Both improved during my early Craft training: unbalanced energy (in the ritual/magical sense) was one among several of my triggers, so removing that obviously helped reduce the frequency of migraines. Likewise, while I’m a longtime musician (woodwinds, singing, and harp), with good training in various breathing approaches, my Craft training gave me a way to apply them in some specific ways that helped with asthma. (And working with an herbalist and becoming *very* aware of early triggers helped a lot otherwise.)

However, there are still some limitations:

• Lack of sleep remains my most reliable migraine trigger: this means that rituals/classes/events that run late have always been a problem for me. (Especially since I’d need to be at work at 7 or 7:30: it’s hard to be at something until 10pm, drive home, have a bath, and still get 8 hours of sleep when that’s true!)
• At this point, camping festivals are a lot more work for me than the enjoyment I get out of them. Basically, I can camp, or I can enjoy the festival. One-day outdoor events aren’t as bad, but still have complications.
• Visiting people at their home is also sometimes complicated: I’m most allergic to dogs and to dust, so how someone deals with cleaning their home (and what pets they have) can make a big difference in when and where I can see them and how much time I can comfortably spend there.

And, of course, as with all chronic conditions, there are ups and downs. Sometimes I can deal with something just fine. And sometimes, usually due to a combination of factors, I can’t.

For example, I rarely have asthma issues anymore, but if we’re in the middle of fall (my worst seasonal allergies), and I’m running tired, and I’m at the home of someone with carpets and dogs (as opposed to wood floors and no pets), I’m more likely to have problems, or to need lots of extra recovery time (which I don’t have to spare right now.)

The new things in the equation:

The more recent conditions are both things I’m taking medication for. I’m extraordinarily fortunate that we figured out the treatment (and found me something that’s clearly working) as fast as we did: six months is amazingly rapid in terms of time from diagnosis to reasonable function for most cases.

That said, a few things have become really clear to me in the last couple of months:

• I’m back to about 90-95% of my ‘normal’.
• Unfortunately, that last 5% seems to have a lot to do with the speed with which I can get things done.
• So most things (whether that’s household tasks or writing something) are taking me 2-3 times longer than I think they should.
• It’s particularly complicated for things involving a combination of creative thought and precision communication – part of the reason I wanted to take a break from group ritual for a while. My ability to write at length and feel like it’s decent has only come back really well in the last few weeks.
• My overall energy levels are much better, but I still have sudden dips that I don’t know how to predict well yet. Every day I learn a little more, but I’m still getting surprised on a regular basis.
• I need to remember that dealing with relatively minor but tedious side effects takes time and energy too.
• There are a lot of things about how my body works that are continuing to change: I’m seeing changes in hunger and metabolism, in sleep, in hormonal cycles, in how warm or cold I feel, and when and how I do my best focused work, to name just a few.

All of these things mean that I want to ease back slowly into specific kinds of ritual work – and especially group ritual work where I’d be the only initiate in the tradition in the group (and therefore responsible for doing a lot of the specific energy work, although there are also pieces that others could start doing relatively quickly if needed.)

Effects on ritual work:

General level of energy: One of the most basic: if I’m constantly exhausted from the very basic functions of the day (getting up, making sure I eat reasonably, do the things I need to do – work, work on finding a job, whatever), then there may not be a lot of me left over for other tasks. This is the Out Of Spoons problem. (If you’re unfamiliar with the Spoon Theory explanation of dealing with chronic illness, I recommend reading it.)

There are obviously ways to have a meaningful spiritual life while energy and time aren’t very available (and in fact, I just sent in an article on that for the 2012 Witches’ Companion almanac.) On the other hand, I have ritual itches that aren’t always scratched by those things.

Amount of time tasks take: Remember how I talked about things taking me longer? That’s just as true for ritual prep as it is for doing my dishes or writing an email.

Right now, I’m tending to work through what I want to do on one day, spend a day or two tidying and getting things together, then do the ritual work. Previously, I would have been much more comfortable coming up with the plan and doing it within a day (or maybe two.)

Ability to focus: There was a while in December when my focus was so bad I couldn’t read light fiction for 5 minutes at a time. (That would have been much scarier if I’d had the energy to be scared, I suspect.) Fortunately, that got better. However, the process of getting down into a trance state and being able to use it for various purposes have changed somewhat for me.

I’m currently working through basic exercises on a regular basis to see what’s changed for me, and how things are working now.

Executive function: One of the things that went totally away for me, for a disturbingly long time (it only started to come back  in late May) was what’s commonly called ‘executive function’ – the ability to make choices between options, to make decisions about what order to do things in, and so on.

Some choices remained fairly easy for me. (What book to read next). But a lot of choices got very hard for me, and I’d sit there looking blankly at my list of options for a long time before being able to move forward on anything. If I got distracted in the middle of a task, it took me forever (like half an hour) to get back on task. Needless to say, I have hugely more understanding for my friends with ADD and ADHD these days. Even when it started getting easier to make decision and stay on track, it was still tremendously tiring for me.

In ritual and Craft practice terms, it does present some challenges for creating and following through in ritual – and more complications when working with other people. In particular, I don’t want to fall back on the easy thing when really something else might be much better, if I could get past the decision tree problem.

Meditation and trancework: One interesting note on meditation and trance work in particular: while I tried a few times in the past six months, I kept getting a very clear message that it was not the thing I needed to be doing. It wasn’t painful or bad: just a persistent door closed in my face.

In the past month, I’ve done a couple of deliberately short and gentle forays into trance work again, and while those are not my best trance moments ever, they’ve been much more functional.

Ability to raise and focus ritual energy: Which is one of the core jobs of the high priestess in ritual, and certainly necessary for my own personal work. As you might guess from my previous comments on general energy levels, this one fluctuates (sometimes unpredictability) and is harder than it used to be.

That said, habit counts for a whole lot: when I have the energy to kick in the practices and techniques that I’ve learned and done regularly in group work, those practices carry a lot of the effort with them. Think of it like getting a shuttle into orbit: large cost to get it off the ground, but once you get everything moving, the tendency of things already moving to stay in motion helps out a lot. That said, I’m not currently at a place where I’d want to trust that in a ritual with high or very specific expectations (initiations, for example) just yet.

Commitments to deity, to coven energy: These are things I’ve mostly had to set aside (other than the most basic form of attention and devotion) for a while: I just haven’t had the spare energy to send out. The deity part has been fine: the coven energy piece is a lot more complicated. (And again, it’s a place where having another active initiate would have made things much easier.)

I think my solution to the coven one is that – once I feel my reserves are up to it and I can afford a day or two of recovery time without discombulating the job search – to reinforce a number of those commitments and connections again very deliberately. (Not quite recreating them, but tracing over them, so to speak.) That includes the coven’s communal astral space, but also some other commitments and connections.

Tradition: There have been some substantial changes in the group I hived from (and where I’m still very fond of people) in the last couple of months. I regret very much that my energy levels and amount of focus meant I was less able to be present and offer my thoughts (as one of the three third degrees in the tradition) than I really wanted to be.

I’ve been making up for it a bit in the last month – partly to catch up with people I just plain like (and to hear some of what they’re thinking about things now), but also because if I do end up moving for job reasons, I wanted to make sure I’d seen relatively recently if I have to do a quick move.

Attention to detail and ability to shift plans on the fly: Here we come to the reason I’m being really cautious about group ritual: I recognise that my ability to spot details (especially in areas where I have to work a bit more for it) and to adjust logistics and plans on the fly are still very shaky compared to my norms.

Now, granted, my norms in this area are pretty high – it’s part of why I love library work, for example. However, leading ritual for others, or formally taking them on as a student (with the energetic commitments that entails) mean I want to be really sure I’m able to notice any potential areas of concern when they’re still small. While I’m getting back to that point, I’m not quite there yet.

How I present myself: While I feel mostly like ‘me’ in that core way, I’ve had a number of internal shifts over the past few months. I’ve accepted the fact that the combination of health issues means that thinking of myself in at least some contexts significantly limited is a big shift for me. (As opposed to just having two well-managed conditions, where as long as I didn’t hit the sore spots, we were mostly fine.) Likewise, leaving a job and school community I’d loved for 10 years is a complicated thing emotionally, in the best of circumstances, which this wasn’t. (As there are a number of things I wish had happened differently in various ways, both things I did and things I had no choice in.)

But I’m aware that all of these things affect how people interact with me. I talk regularly with friends who have a good baseline on me, and I listen to what they say. I’m slowly working through some ritual work around the transitional bits. But I also want to make sure that anyone who meets me right now knows that some of how I’m doing things and how I must come across is a transitional state in some ways.

(Ok: Life is always a transitional state, but some times in life are more transitional than others.)

In particular, I’m still figuring out the best way to be clear that what ritual I can offer right now is not the full spectrum of possible intensities I’d normally prefer to work along. On a scale of 1-10, with most rituals being around the 5 mark – moving and changing, but designed to do so in small and manageable doses  – I’m averaging a 2-4. My normal range would spend a lot of time in the 5-6 range, with a very 8s, and the occasional 9 or 10 of initiations and other pivotal ritual moments for an individual or the group.

Integration takes time: The level of internal change and impact on my daily life from the last six months is probably *more* than any of my initiations, and more than either my marriage or divorce. (In large part because those things – while they had their challenges and really hard moments – mostly didn’t fundamentally change how I felt my brain worked in ways that were core to my self-identification.)

There’s really no solution for this one beyond time, self-awareness, and finding situations that stretch my new sense of myself in ways that help me grow into the spaces. I’m doing a combination of conversations with friends, journalling, other projects, and a bit of body modality work (Feldenkrais, in my case) that lets my brain try new things out that might work better in a structured context.

And in group terms – I’m not quite to the point where that’s integrated enough that I feel comfortable being responsible for leading someone deliberately into that state of needed-integration, and showing them ways back out: something core to initiatory work. I have a feeling I will be in a month, or two, or three. But not quite yet.

Onwards…

And now, if you don’t mind, it’s time for me to aim at bed, so I can get plenty of sleep, so I can get up in the morning, take my meds, wait a bit, have breakfast, and get some job applications out before meeting a friend for something like coffee. Part 2 of this – how I look at health issues in terms of group work (both my health issues and other people’s, and what kind of information I want to know about it when), will, I hope, happen tomorrow.

As a Pagan with specific needs:

I need to take responsibility for my needs. This is both for philosophical reasons, but also for practical ones: no one else is going to know my needs and limits as well as I know myself. I feel that I should be able to do the following, in order to help others in the community figure out what they can offer, and how they can offer it.

Recognise my limits:

I am fortunate to live in a metropolitan area with a wide-ranging and active Pagan community. On many days, there are a couple of different events going on. Many happen in ways that just aren’t accessible to me: for example, they end at 9pm or later on a worknight, which means I can’t get enough sleep to function the next day if I go.

I could try demanding that all those events meet my specific needs (unlikely to happen, and frustrating for everyone.) Or I could recognise that at least right now, I’ll need to miss some things. Lots of things.

Be able to communicate specific needs clearly and well in advance:

I know that group leaders and event planners are busy people. Keeping my questions and request short and focused will make it easier for everyone if I have to ask for help or additional information.

The larger the event, the sooner I should ask: I know there is a limited amount that even the best-intentioned folks in the world can do last minute. I’d suggest at least a week in advance, more like two or three if it’s a major event (a once-a-year festival.) Mostly, this isn’t a direct issue for me right now (I’m more likely to be the one running something than attending), but it’s good to keep in mind.

Clearly share what I can offer:

This is true both as a group leader and as a friend to others in the community. One of the things I’ve struggled with this winter is how to be a good priestess while my own resources (energy, time for anything other than basic necessities) are so slim. I think I’m walking that line about as well as possible, given the limitations, but every time I have to hold myself back from offering help or even just seeing a friend, it’s hard.

Being clear about what I can and can’t do right now means people don’t have to guess. And that saves time and energy and lets us get onto more of the good stuff, and less of the disability-management stuff.

Be a good guest:

It is not nice to spring things on your hosts, and tends to make everyone less happy. This is true whether it’s a specific food need, the fact you have a service animal, or that you have specific allergies. In general, I’d say that it’s important to be especially clear for an event hosted in someone’s home, and to realise that not everything may be an option given those circumstances.

Issues I’ve seen show up in the past include:

I’ve seen or heard about all of these situations (and more!) in my past experience, though I’m doing my best to leave out any specific identifying information.

If there are things you absolutely can’t be around:

Communicate these early and clearly (if you do it in person, follow up with an email, so they have the complete list of concerns in writing.) This includes

• Foods you can’t be in the same room with
• Incense, herbs, or scents that you can’t be around
• Cleaning products, ditto
• Pet allergies that you can’t medicate for
• Major mobility issues (as below) that require specific furniture or arrangement of space

Food and drink limitations.

If the group tells you that they share food (often bread and alcohol in small amounts) in ritual, but that they can include alternatives with warning, tell them in well in advance (by which I mean ‘in enough time they can add something appropriate to the shopping list’, not ‘when you show up at the ritual.’) I know I don’t always have juice that’s seasonally and thematically appropriate to the ritual unless I buy it specially.

Time limits.

If you use a ride service due to mobility issues, and they give a wide time frame for pick up and drop off, check with the hosting household to make sure they’ll be home and available enough in advance. They might have been planning on last minute cleaning, a leadership discussion before everyone else arrives – or even a rehearsal of the ritual that needs to be private. You should expect to entertain yourself (bring a book, etc.) until everyone else arrives, rather than have a nice long friendly chat with people in the household (who, again, may need to be doing other things.)

If you have a service animal:

Discuss this clearly and up front with the hosting household as well as the ritual planners – people will be able to accommodate different needs. (The ADA doesn’t apply to private homes or invite-only settings, and religious settings also have specific exemptions.) This is for good practical reason. Some people have allergies sufficient to make it hard to host any animal in their personal living space. Some have pets who live in the home who do not do well with other animals. There may be specific concerns around space, mobility, or allergy needs of other attendees.

(Having had a very bad experience around this one in the past, I think it’s also good to provide some advance information that can be sent to everyone in the ritual about what to expect, and so people with mild-to-moderate pet allergies can medicate or make other choices appropriately. If your service animal has never been in this type of ritual space or work before, make extra sure to let people know that.)

Check with the hosting household about any mobility issues.

Good questions to consider include:

• Are there stairs to get into the home? How many?
• Are there stairs to get into the ritual space?
• Will we be standing during ritual? Could you have a chair available?
• If there is sitting during ritual, could you have a chair instead of sitting on the ground?
• If outside, is the ground level, or is there a hill or valley, gravel, or other difficulties?

Plan ahead around food:

Expect that in a potluck situation (common for many Pagan groups after ritual) that there may be some foods there that you can’t eat for whatever reason. Since people have so many different (and sometimes conflicting!) food needs, especially after intensive ritual work, you should make sure you bring food you can eat that will satisfy you, and expect that you may not be able to eat everything offered, unless it’s been carefully arranged in advance.

You should be aware that some people experience blood sugar or other related reactions to some kinds of ritual work. If you have any concerns, you should let the event hosts know in advance, and ask what you should do if you need to be excused from the ritual for a minute. (In groups using a formal ritual circle, they may want to let you out in a way that doesn’t disrupt the existing energy and focus of the circle for others if at all possible.)

Provide brief information about any potential emergency needs

I’m asthmatic: I always tell someone there where my inhaler is. (And that I’m asthmatic in the first place). Seizure disorders, vertigo or other things that make standing up suddenly a problem, significant blood sugar issues, and anything where you’ve got significant limitations on the amount of standing, walking, exercising, etc. you can do are good things to communicate. The group doesn’t need all the details, but they really do need to know whether it’s more useful to hand you food or medication or to call 911. We all hope none of these emergencies will happen, but preparation helps a lot if they do.

It’s also good to let people know if you have a compromised immune system (so that if the whole group is coming down with something nasty, you can get a warning), or if you have any particular considerations that might affect others. (Like a disease that might be transmitted by casual contact, or by blood if there was a minor household accident – I’ve seen enough broken glasses and similar things to like to know this one for clean-up precaution purposes.)

Be aware that not all accomodations are realistic

We’d like them to be. But I think we also do better if we admit we live in a world where sometimes, the options don’t allow that. And likewise, sometimes, that accommodations are mutually incompatible.

One common problem of the first type is mobility, and I’d like to take some time to break down the choices here, to look at the range of considerations that come up when evaluating long-term changes in ritual and magical practice.

Let’s say that rituals currently happen in a space that involves stairs, and someone who can’t climb them would like to attend. On one hand, it looks like there might be a simple solution: hold the ritual in a space that doesn’t have stairs. In reality, that may not actually produce the same kind of potential space and work.

Option 1: Rent a space

Many rental spaces have better mobility compliance than private homes, it’s true. But they also have some limitations that significantly affect what kinds of ritual work can be done in them.

• It is much easier to find rental spaces for a Pagan group in some places rather than others.
• Cost can be prohibitive for a small group. My tradition has 22 rituals each year: rental spaces in the Twin Cities commonly used by the Pagan community run $50 to 100 a time – that’s a fair bit of cost to share between a few people.
• The times the space is available may be limited – and often, the group that owns the space gets priority on scheduling.
• Groups may need to be done and cleaned up with a strict time limit – this can make some kinds of ritual work challenging, or may make doing ritual work on weekday evenings impossible in that space.
• Many spaces have restrictions on the use of candles, incense, food, and drink (all of which may be used in many practices at some point.)
• Group members have to pack up and carry all of the needed items. (I’m going to come back to this point in a minute).
• Outdoor parks can be an option in some settings – but you are at the whim of the weather. (And in some areas, outdoor ritual for a significant part of the year might be an accessibility issue all by itself. I live in Minnesota, where I think ritual planners need to pay attention to both heat issues and cold issues, depending on the season. More on that on Saturday)
• Many spaces do not offer much privacy, or much control over the space.

It’s this last one that’s particularly challenging. Some groups do actively present open rituals (that anyone from the public can attend). Some groups hold rituals that have a very low entry bar (open to anyone who asks for the location information). And some rituals are celebratory, or are open to distractions or interruptions. But many Pagan paths include at least some elements are very private, personal, or challenging for the participants. Some more intense ritual practices can also be especially draining or even unsafe for the participants if they’re interrupted.

Let’s look at an example. The ritual celebration of Samhain in a number of paths focuses on remembering our beloved ones who have died. This can be a deeply moving and emotionally powerful time for many people. Now, imagine that you’re crying your eyes out, after telling a story of a beloved friend, partner, or family member, and someone opens the door to the space, walks through the large meeting hall you’re in, and disappears into the bathroom at the other end of the hall. And a few minutes later, they do the same thing in reverse. This is often very common in rented church or community spaces: the larger function rooms without fixed furniture often have the bathroom or other important facilities (utility closets, storage, sound or lighting controls for the building) attached or nearby, and if there are other events in the building, people may need to access them.

Or imagine the same ritual in a building where there’s a drum jam, concert, or noisy meeting taking place on the next floor, or behind the next wall. Would you be as able to focus on your memories and grief as you would in a place that was quiet and undisturbed? Sometimes spaces share light switches (or are either in total darkness, or glaring fluroescent), meaning that it can be challenging to create a soft, gently lit, sacred space for worship.

In other words, the rituals that work best in rented space are often the more public ones. More emotionally intimate ones often don’t translate well, or require a lot of special arrangement to feel like safe and meaningful space for the participants. In some cases, creating an appropriate space for a particular kind of ritual may be impossible in rented space.

Option 2: Use a different space hosted by someone in the same group

Again, if this is actually an appropriate option, this can work great. But often, the number of people in the group who can reasonably host a small group ritual are relatively small.

• Does anyone else have sufficient space to host a group of your size? That includes being able to move furniture out of the way to clear enough open space for ritual.
• Do you actually have a space that solves the mobility challenges? If everyone else lives in upper story apartments, or other places with lots of stairs, you might not.
• Is the prospective host able to deal with the necessary cleaning, furniture moving, etc. to prepare for ritual? If not, is that a problem that can be reliably solved with help from the group, or not?
• Does the prospective host introduce any new accessibility concerns – pets, other allergens, mobility within the space, space for people to sit during the ritual.
• Will it limit someone’s spouse or partner, housemates, or children from reasonable freedom in their own home for the duration of the ritual? If they can’t move between the kitchen, the bathroom, and their preferred space to curl up when the living room/other likely ritual space is in use, frustration will likely build. These spaces might work well for a very occasional need (like a rain location in a place with generally decent weather in the summer), but they create hard feelings if they’re used all the time.

Sometimes, neither of these are good options. In which case we’re back to our less-than-accessible space as a hard limit.

The problem of tote-and-barge Paganism:

This is, perhaps, my favorite term for those groups who meet in places where they must bring our equipment. (I have the kind of experience with this you might guess when I say that in my former group, one of the best presents we ever got our HPS when we were still regularly renting space was a set of matched rolling luggage.)

How much a group needs to bring varies a lot on their practice. However, it’s fairly common to have a selection of candles and candleholders, something to share ritual food and drink, artwork or statues of deities to be honored in that ritual, and whatever appropriate ritual tools are needed. Many of these may be breakable. Altar cloths appropriate to the ritual. If the site doesn’t have suitable tables, the group may need to bring those too.And then there’s the ritual decorations, which can take up about as much space as you’re willing to haul. Some items are small. Some are fragile – glassware or ceramic. Some are large and have to be carried separately – a broom, for example, or a staff. This often requires very specific packing skills to be able to move everything safely and securely in as few trips as possible.

On top of this, of course, we must include the items that the people bringing the ritual stuff need for their own personal needs – which could be anything from food and drink to share, to a chair to sit in and cooler (if it’s an outdoor ritual), to bags with personal items.

It adds up to a lot of stuff. And it adds a good 20-30 minutes of physical effort to the day’s activities. For some people, this is no big deal – but for some people (and that includes me, right now) that’s going to substantially change the other things they can plan for that day.

There are ways to do it with less stuff. My own group has a one-basket policy (with a couple of exceptions like a small cauldron). If it doesn’t fit in the basket (which is about 9″ wide by 18″ or so long, and about a foot deep), it doesn’t get acquired. However, I’m rigorous about this because I also don’t have room to store a lot of items (little tiny house!) rather than because of the hauling complications.

The hauling’s hard enough, but in my experience, is the need to pack and unpack the stuff multiple times is even worse.

If we’re doing ritual in my home, it’s no big deal if I suddenly discover we need one extra tea light candle, or if I can’t find the lighter that’s supposed to be in the basket. I snag another one (because we’re at home, and I have such things handy.) I can do a final check of things for the ritual as people arrive, if I’m home.

If I’m elsewhere, I have to find time to double check the basket and make sure everything’s there – that we haven’t used the last stick of incense, that we have plenty of candles, that the lighter’s full enough to light things easily. This can easily take 10-20 minutes, and it’s a task that’s particularly fragile if you get distracted or lose focus for some reason.

And of course, there’s the issue of cleaning things after use. If I’m at home, my chalice often stays out on one of my shelves: it gets rinsed and cleaned, and then goes back there. If we use the one in the basket, it needs to be rinsed and washed, and then packed back down there – into the bottom of the basket. This also means you end up unpacking stuff when you get home, cleaning the stuff that needs cleaning, and then repacking it – tasks that add up to a fair chunk of time after what has already been a demanding day.

You might also notice that these are hard tasks to share. If we’re meeting at my home, I can hand much of the set-up over to other people, and focus on the bits only I can do. I can leave the washing up for a day or two, if I’ve already rinsed everything out. If we’re meeting somewhere else, but the *stuff* lives at my home, I either have to do it all, or make arrangements for someone else to do it (which might limit my schedule, other things I could be doing, etc.)

None of these are great solutions, if the person who is responsible for the stuff also has health concerns (either of focus/concentration or of energy)

Personally, I’ve found that doing rituals at home – even with the house-cleaning expectations that go with that (but I’d want a reasonably tidy house anyway…) – is perhaps a tenth of the work of doing ritual somewhere else, just because I don’t need to invest nearly as much time in double checking everything and making sure it’s available if we need it. It also makes for a richer ritual experience because I’ve got more space to improvise if I have a last minute brilliant idea. And I can spread out the work over a couple of days if I need to, rather than doing it all at once.

It also – as someone who’s dealing with exhaustion issues – means I don’t need to drive home afterwards. I can push myself to the further edge of my limits, because if I need to go to bed right after we’re done, I can. I have the comforts of home, and I don’t need to go far to make use of them. That’s pretty invaluable right now. There *are* ways to share the work in many groups – but some of them work better than others at some stages in an individual’s or a group’s growth and cycle.

So…

As you can see from all of this, sometimes there isn’t an actual practical solution that’s accessible in the ways we might like – in an ideal world – to be able to offer. I think it’s important to keep looking at these questions, and whether we’re missing an answer that would improve accessibility without removing anything from the core practice of our path.

But I also think it’s important to realise that – in Pagan terms – there are many reasons we might be a poor fit for a particular group. Scheduling (when the group meets), the group’s focus, the time expectations (both for group events and personal practice or study at home), the specific practices, and many other things like the personality of existing group members all also matter.

Sometimes we can fudge on some of those and make everything work out in a way that preserves the tradition’s tested practices and meaningful experiences but can include people with specific needs or limits. Sometimes we can’t, for reasons that are not anyone’s fault or blame in particular, but that come from all sorts of other things going on in our lives. It’s fair game to ask what might be possible – but also our responsibility to know what we can and can’t accommodate.

The following applies to a group that someone’s made a significant ongoing investment in – I’m talking about becoming a formal student, member, or whatever else, here, rather than showing up when you feel like it, basically (that’s a whole other set of guidelines.)

Basic principles:

In general, I think that it’s good to avoid burning bridges unless you absolutely have to. Even if you think the people in a group are the lousiest people on the planet, the Pagan community is still pretty small. Chances are decent that you’ll end up crossing paths with them at some point down the road, or talking to someone who’s worked with them, or whatever.

Thus, while a good parting doesn’t need to be ‘happy and cheerful’ (it’s okay to have hard or hurt feelings), handling it maturely and thoughtfully, taking the high road, and tying off loose ends as much as possible has long seemed the best choice whenever you can. It will give you the widest range of future options in the community both immediately and in the future.

Existing commitments:

The first thing to do is stop and think for a minute, because it’s going to simplify the next steps a lot. Different groups, traditions, and paths have different ways to part, and different things to keep in mind, but here’s things to look at:

Have you made any commitments, agreements, or oaths…

about how parting from the group happens or should happen? For example, students in my group are asked as part of their Dedicant oath that if they decide the group isn’t a good fit for them, they will return to the group for a formal parting if at all possible. This is a recognition of the very real personal and energetic ties formed at Dedication (and at Initiation, etc.) and is meant to give everyone a chance to tidily resolve those energetic loose ends.

Having been on the other side of someone just disappearing a number of times, I was very clear on why this was a good idea even before I hived. Avoid breaking oaths. (If it’s a truly abusive setting, or there are good practical reasons you can’t do whatever the preferred mode is, see later in this post.)

Do you have any upcoming commitments to the group?

Are you currently mentoring someone? On the list to lead or create a ritual in the next 2-3 months? Have you taken on ongoing responsibilities for any task? Is there information about how to do something that lives in your head in the current use, and is not yet down on paper?

Take time to figure out some ways to handle that. You don’t need to find an answer for everything, but it is a useful thing to be able to hand the group leadership a clear list of what they need to find alternatives for, and how to maintain what you’ve been doing.

For example, I was the technology-answering person in my group for several years before I hived. I spent the time to write up the clearest directions I could about how each tool the group used worked (how to add an event to the calendar, someone to the mailing list, etc. etc.) They still asked questions about specifics, but it helped a lot to have a reference.

What will you say?

If other people ask you why you’re leaving the group, what will you say? Someone will probably ask, and it’s a lot easier to have an answer to this one if you think about it in advance. Good answers are generally brief, and avoid anyone’s dirty laundry. If you’re parting because you just want to go another direction, a cheerful “They’re wonderful folks, but I found myself going off towards [other thing].” can work well. If hte parting is a bit more fraught, something like “We were clearly going in different directions.” or “It wasn’t as good a mutual fit anymore.” or something general and simple works well.

(You may find that you do want to talk specifics: in general, I’d suggest this only with people who specifically ask you about the group because they’re interested in it themselves, and who ask you for your direct experience. Move forward, in other words, rather than getting stuck venting about what didn’t work.)

Think of what you want to say to the group members.

This may be more than one set of things. You may have things you want to share with the group leadership, but you should also consider what you want to say to other group members who may not hear all the details of why you’re making this choice. Again, focus on tying up loose ends rather than casting blame or getting stuck in past problems.

Consider the outcomes:

Are you considering leaving, but aren’t sure yet? Or are you really sure that it’s the thing you need to do? Is there anything that might change your mind?

If there is, this would be a good time to arrange to talk to the people who could do something about that – probably the group’s leader or leader’s. Make sure they know it’s a serious conversation (not a casual catching up) so they can plan appropriately.

If you know nothing’s going to change your mind, that’s okay too. Just make sure you’ve thought through each of your concerns first.

I do encourage people to take time with this step. Sometimes we feel pushed to leave a situation because it’s pushing us toward a change we’re not sure we want to take, or we’re hitting old baggage that we haven’t fully unpacked yet. If we don’t deal with that, we stand a good chance of hitting the same problem over and over again in other settings. If we deal with it a bit – even if we end up leaving that group anyway – we’ll be in a better place in the long run. That’s worth quite a bit of self-examination, I think.

It’s also possible that a group isn’t the right place for us right now – but that in a couple of years, either we change or the group changes (or most commonly, both) and it might be worth considering again. Being really clear about why you left helps make it a lot easier to see if coming back is the right choice down the road.

Communicate

Do not assume the group leadership are mind-readers. It’s not a good assumption. They may know you’re unhappy, or want to explore other areas, or just are struggling to deal with a complicated schedule, long drive, or something else practical, but they may not realise all of what’s going on. Having a clear conversation with them will help you as well as them.

You might have this conversation in their home, but it might be easier to have it in some neutral location like a coffee shop. (preferably somewhere that no one in the conversation has really strong ties to: don’t pick the HPS’s favorite morning stop!)

Maybe they have a solution you haven’t considered (if you aren’t set on leaving). Even if they don’t, it’s courteous to give them a clear explanation if you can, so that they can consider if they might want to change things in the future for other people.

Go into the conversation with an idea of what you want to say (which could range from “I’m really unhappy with how things are going, here’s what I think would change that” if you’d consider staying, to “I really don’t think things are working out, and I think I need to leave the group.”

They may have stuff to say. You don’t need to (and shouldn’t) put up with abusive language, harassment, or anything else like that, but otherwise, you might consider staying – again, there might be something that you hadn’t considered that would at least make the parting easier for everyone).

Practicalities:

You will want to communicate any of your existing obligations. A list is handy here, that you can give them. Something like “I’d signed up for the May moon, Mallow might be a good person to handle this thing I’ve been doing and here’s directions on how I’ve been doing it, and here’s the books I borrowed from you.” Obviously, they may make their own choices, but at least you’ve done your best to point out the places they need to double check.

You may also need to ask the group for items, if, for example, they hold your measure as part of your commitment to the group, or it’s common for members to leave some items in the covenstead. (If this is the case, you probably want to think about how to get them back: depending on the situation, you might ask them to bring them to the conversation, to return them at a parting ritual, or to mail them or otherwise get them to you or make them easy for you (or a friend) to pick up.

Sharing with everyone:

You should talk about how to communicate your decision to leave to the group. Will you return for a parting ritual (at the next moon, Sabbat, or some other time?) Will there be a general announcement?

Will you want to continue talking to people in the group for any other reason (social events, overlapping circles of other interests, etc?) It might be good to talk about how to approach that. A good option is to give the group leaders time (a week or so if it’d be by email, the next obvious event if they’d do it in person) to communicate the decision, and then follow up privately with the relevant people. Again, don’t do a lot of venting and focusing on the bad parts, but do take a minute to say things like “I wish you well with Group, and I still look forward to getting together for horror movies every so often if you’re interested.” or whatever your shared interests are.

This is the thing I most regret about my hiving, actually – we all sort of knew when my last ritual with the group was going to be, but we weren’t as clear about it to students and prospective students as we might have been. I wish that I’d asked directly for some sort of announcement, or been  clear that I’d like to send something brief. I think it’s worked out okay, but people were a bit uncertain for a while whether I still wanted to see them or chat in other ways, or what was okay to bring up – and a simple email at the front end would have made that much simpler.

All that’s left at this point is to do the parting ritual if there is one, and to move on with your lives. Hopefully, by taking time to part well, you’ll have a much more pleasant experience if and when you run into each other down the road.

In really lousy circumstances

Sometimes leaving a group is absolutely necessary – but you know that one or more people in the group might be anywhere from totally inappropriate to emotionally abusive or even dangerous about it. (This last one is very rare, but just like romantic relationships going bad, sometimes other interactions take turns we really didn’t expect.)

Obviously, don’t do things you feel are unsafe (and do your best to catch this kind of situation in advance and get help if you need it.) Don’t go meet people if you’re pretty sure they’re going to gang up on you without any meaningful conversation. If you’re not sure, but want some options, think about bringing a friend from outside the group (who can sit with you, or at a nearby table) and help keep things on a more civil tone, or get help if they turn really nasty. (And again, meeting in a public space like a coffee shop helps a lot. Mall food courts generally have an active security presence, if you’re concerned about safety.)

If you feel you can’t discuss your leaving in person, sending a very simple email (no explanations needed if you don’t feel they’d be useful) is a good move: it helps make a clear break with the group. You may wish to consider turning your phone ringer off, asking a friend to check messages for you, or even staying somewhere else for a few days, just to help with the initial outburst of either questions or strong emotion.

Centering, grounding, and cleansing and/or warding your personal space might all be reasonable choices as well – not because most people will energetically attack you effectively (because most won’t!) but because it will help firm up your identification as separate from the group mind. And of course, if you have any realistic concerns about physical risk, talk to the police or other appropriate resources.

I’d also strongly advise packing away any tools, jewelry, or other items that are particularly strongly associated with the group for a while in this situation, and taking them out of your living space entirely for a period of time. In six months or a year or whatever you can come back to them, cleanse them if needed. They’ll have much less overwhelming emotional resonance for you, and you can deal with them in a more thoughtful way.

Pre-planning:

What is your own experience and training?

It’s good to be honest with yourself about these things – a lot of the most dangerous moments come from someone who either overestimates their experience or training, or just plain ignores things that training would tell them. It’s important to not only know what to do, but why something is done that way. Likewise, be aware of what you’ve done recently, and what you might be a little rusty on. If most of your experience is by yourself, working closely with someone with more experience for at least a couple of group rituals to learn skills and manage the energy is a really smart idea.

I also consider it part of my job as a priestess to have basic First Aid and CPR training. I hope I’ll never need it, but having it makes me feel more comfortable in knowing what to do if an emergency does happen. (I’m not rigid about keeping my certification totally current, but do renew it regularly.) If you’re not up for this, consider supporting someone else in your group in getting that training instead.

Are you changing anything from standard practice for that technique?

Standard techniques have often been widely tested and most possible problems already removed. When you change an element, however, you may be removing an important safety support. Don’t do that without adding something else that fixes that. For example, many traditions have some standard methods they use to bring people back to their bodies after trance or ecstatic work. These specific methods may not make as much sense in a large public ritual or a festival setting – but you’d want to make sure you included something that did the same thing.

What are your resources in terms of space?

What safety support does it already have? One reason we’ve been relatively relaxed about health and safety issues with our Pagan Pride is that we’ve been holding it in a community center space which both has its own safety equipment, but is also down the block from the fire station. These are a little different than being in a public park, where those things would be less available or further away.

Likewise, you’re going to want to take different steps if you’re outside in the heat or cold than if you’re inside in a climate-controlled building. You’re going to want to pay attention to different natural hazards if you’re in the Southwest US than if you’re in Minnesota (poisonous snakes and other critters). And some things are much safer if you can’t be interrupted than if you’re in a park with lots of people from the general public walking through.

What resources do you have in terms of people?

Appropriate space for risk-involving work requires people who can support that. In Wiccan-based work, this is a common role for experienced initiates: people who have already worked with a particular technique, and who can help out if needed, even if they aren’t the priestess or priest in charge. I’m going back to the group I trained with for Samhain at the end of this week, and that’s part of my role there, to be one more experienced body who’s familiar with the ritual (which has some logistical and emotional challenges for a lot of people) and help out as needed. Because I know the ritual, but don’t have a specific ritual role, it’s easier for me to to be more immediately helpful than one of the people who needs to help keep the ritual going.

In public rituals, even if I’m not doing anything particularly strenuous, I try really hard to have 3-4 people who are there and familiar with what’s going on. Both to help set the pattern for other people there, but also so that if there is a problem of any kind, I can say, “You, go get me a glass of water. You, can you get everyone to back up a bit while we sort this out.” and so on, and call people by name. (People asked by name to do something are a lot more likely to do it than if you just ask generally: this is the same principle you use when asking someone to call 911 – identify them specifically, like “You in the brown jacket, with the glasses. Call 911 and tell them…”)

These people may also have other roles, depending on your ritual structure. However, what makes sense will vary with path and need. If a role requires staying in circle, for example, don’t send that person out with a participant who needs to sit down and have a glass of water outside of circle.

What do you know about the people who will be participating?

There are some obvious differences between a group of people with a lot of experience in what you’re doing, and a group of people who either don’t have much experience, or don’t have experience in that particular form. Adjust accordingly. If you don’t know about the background of the people participating, do some checking before you start, or consider a brief discussion before you get started in which you go over the critical information.

One other thing to think about at this point is whether you have anyone with relevant chronic medical conditions. I don’t ask these for public events (instead, I avoid things where this might be a concern), but for smaller settings (coven work, for example), I want to know:

• chronic conditions (asthma, high or low blood pressure, etc.)
• tendencies -  for example, poorly managed personal energy can be a migraine trigger for some people. (It was for me until I got my personal energy management under better control.)
• past surgery that has a long-term effect. We discovered in my past group work that the two people who’d had gastric bypass needed some variations on common breathing exercises (or to ease into it more slowly) due to the surgery’s effects. Not a crisis, but there was more discomfort and frustration than I’d prefer until we figured that out.
• ongoing medication, especially recent changes in type or dose that someone’s still adapting to.

Now, in practice, in a small close-knit group, you probably know most of this anyway, before you get into the deeper (and more risky stuff). But it’s good to check in about. (These are among questions I ask anyone I’m seriously considering for group work once we’re past the initial ‘get to know you’ stage.)

What do you know about yourself?

The questions directly above apply to you, too. Do you have any chronic conditions, tendencies, past surgery or other injuries, or ongoing medication that affects you? For example, I’m asthmatic. I will not plan a ritual that involves my having to do a lot of very energetic dancing in ways I might not be able to sustain (and I have a backup plan for rituals that involve more than minimal movement in case I’m having more trouble than usual.) I also won’t priestess a ritual if I’ve been on inhaled steroids for more than a week or two, because they do odd things to both my sense of discernment, and to my emotional stability, but I’m not on them long enough to develop a new baseline.

Planning:

What is your goal?

One of the most important steps in the process: what’s your real desired outcome, and what is involved to get you there? Books have been written about this, so I’m not going to go into it deeply here.

What techniques might work for reaching that goal?

The techniques you use will depend on several things – again, books have been written about this, but you want to consider:

• Your particular religious, spiritual, or magical path’s preferred techniques
• Techniques that work particularly well for you, or that you feel most able to lead thoroughly.
• How a given technique fits the likely participants, setting, and other circumstances.
• If a specific tool or technique has particular considerations.

There’s usually more way to raise and focus energy, for example. If it’s likely to be 100 degrees out and sunny, you might want to pick chanting rather than fervent dancing, for example. If it’s outside in the winter, you don’t want to make everyone stand there in a meditative post for 30 minutes. You should build in approaches that are accessible to people at varying levels of mobility and health – for example, if there’s a dancing portion, have a way for people who can’t join in the dancing chant, drum, or do something else to participate. If you have a lot of inexperienced participants, you probably don’t want a method that requires 30 minutes of sustained focus (since they may not have practice in that.)

What risks are involved with those techniques? What would you do if those things went wrong?

This is the place where it’s really hard to talk about specifics without looking at examples, but here’s some ideas:

• Ritual blades: Sharp objects (or even dull one) in close spaces have some risks. A common restriction is to ask everyone but the priest or priestess using a blade for the group’s ritual work to leave them sheathed on their belt or to not bring it at all. In public parks, or some rented spaces, having only one (generally on the altar) may be easiest.
• Glass : Some public parks and other spaces prohibit glass – and if you have a lot of people around who are unfamiliar with ritual in that space, it can be a bad idea anyway. Consider whether there are other materials that might work just as well. (My coven candleholders are stone, precisely so I don’t have to worry about either tipping them over or shattering them if I drop them.)
• Candles: Obvious fire safety issues here, especially around the area of long sleeves, long robes, or long hair. Having a fire extinguisher handy (and choosing clothing made of natural fibers, which burn much more cleanly if they burn) rather than polyester or other non-natural blends is a good move. Many locations ask that candles be enclosed in a container that extends above the level of the flame, and again, this is a good safety precaution in many cases.
• Burning something in a cauldron or over a bonfire: Again, fire safety issues. More is not better when it comes to chemical fires: avoid a 8 foot tower of fire created by too much epsom salt and rubbing alcohol mix. Have a way to cover the cauldron and stop air getting to the fire. (And have the fire extinguisher accessible.) Also, be careful what you burn – what chemicals are you releasing into the air? Does the place you’re doing the ritual have any fire or burn restrictions (common during droughts or dry periods).
• Incense: People can have a wide range of allergies – some to sage, some to lavender (a popular substitution), some to pretty much anything else you’re likely to want to try and burn. It’s often better to avoid incense or smudging of any kind at a public event. (At smaller closed events, it’s easier to ask in advance and find a solution everyone’s okay with.) This also goes for essential oil burners, and other things that release scent.
• Ecstatic ritual techniques: Ecstatic work can be glorious – but without appropriate support, it can also lead to an emotional crisis point, and leave someone feeling drained, unable to cope, or draw multiple people into chaos. These are not necessarily what you want. Having a clear way to enter the ecstatic experience, but also a clear way to return (and sufficient support staff to help individuals as needed) can be very important.
• Trance work: Same thing – do you have a method for not only getting people there, but getting them back securely? Do you know a variety of techniques to help people ground and return to themselves (in case the first one or two you try don’t work – some ideas further on in this piece) Is there space for people to sit and chat (and maybe have food) before they have to drive?
• Complex ritual techniques: Deep trance work likely to hit emotional issues, Drawing Down/aspecting/possessory work, anything involving a commitment lasting more than a few months, etc. all have some more complex risks. (beyond the scope of this post, I think) and should be handled very carefully.
• Dehydration: Have more water around than you need. Gatorade or something equivalent is also a good move if you’re doing anything involving exertion, or are going to be out in the hot sun for a while.
• Eating, drinking or inhaling: Identify what you’re giving people in ritual (whether it’s food, drink, incense, a salve, or what.) Be aware of your local, state, and federal laws. Don’t force a substance on anyone or ‘hide’ it to play a joke: you may be hitting someone’s allergy or strong sensitivity. Mention alternatives for an alcoholic chalice (send a non-alcoholic version around, or remind people they can raise the chalice in blessing or pour a tiny bit on the ground if outside, etc.)

How do those fit with the experience levels of the people participating?

If you have an unknown group (as with public ritual), err on the side of caution. If you have a group of people where you know all or almost all of their experience levels, it makes sense to take a few more risks or stretch further. (In my experience, if there is more than 1 guest for every 4-5 people familiar with the ritual methods, you want to detail one or more support people to keep an eye out for problems.)

What else is going on in your life, and how is that going to affect this event?

If you are currently juggling a lot of stress at work, you’ve had major family demands, you’ve been seriously ill, or anything else that takes your energy and focus, this is not the time to plan a big event that uses a whole bunch of ritual techniques you haven’t done much before this. Instead, use approaches you’re more familiar with, or get the help of people with substantial experience with the techniques you want to use. Try the new stuff in a smaller, more controlled environment first (experienced people who can give you feedback or any concerns) or at least at a time when you can give your full attention to preparation, planning, and rehearsal and have the emotional and physical energy to support it.

What are the general things that might go wrong that have nothing to do with ritual – just people.

It’s always good to think about this – most of these have been covered already, but think through your specific space. What will you do if someone feels faint? Steps on a wasp? Twists their ankle? Tips over a candle or a glass of wine or water? Think through each part of your ritual plan, and look for what could go wrong, then figure out at least one way to resolve it. Make sure you bring the tools needed to do that.

The announcement:

The ritual announcement can be a great way to get important information out to the participants, and it’s easy to include some general information about safety and well-being. (It can be relatively informal – and in a consistent small group work, you can often communicate most of this once, and then just let people know about any specifics as they come up.) I like to include:

• Who is planning the event/designing the ritual (and how they can contact this person with specific questions.)
• When (an idea of duration is helpful – is this a ‘few hour’ thing or an ‘all weekend’ thing?)
• Where (location, address, map with directions, whatever.)
• Who is welcome (public event? invite only? guests welcome or not?)
• General ritual dress requests (seasonal colors, ritual robes, street clothes, that the ritual will be skyclad). If you’re doing a lot of dancing or movement, you might suggest people avoid long skirts or robes. If you’ll be standing or sitting on a cold floor (winter in Minnesota!), let folks know if they should bring a blanket, are welcome to bring slippers or socks, etc.
• What to bring (potluck dish, specific items for use in ritual, etc. and what to do if they don’t have those items.) For example, if you ask people to bring a chalice, you might tell them that any pleasing cup is fine if they don’t have a dedicated chalice.
• What not to bring (blades, small children, pets, things other people are allergic to, etc. depending on the event.)
• Advance warning of any situations that people may want to prepare for (rituals that involve lengthy time standing, extremes of heat or cold outside, lots of moving/dancing, etc.) If you’re asking them to make oaths or commitments, I think it’s a good idea to let them know that, even if you’re not specific at this point about the details of wording.
• Ask people to contact the ritual organiser with any specific needs (for example, you might only provide a non-gluten option for cakes and ale for a small ritual if you know someone coming can’t eat bread products, or be extra certain to have some seating available if someone coming can’t stand for long). For a public event, you want to plan these alternatives anyway, because not everyone will RSVP.

You may also want to solicit additional help – people who can help with set-up or clean-up in order to make sure you and your support staff have the energy and attention to spend on other tasks related to the ritual and ritual safety. (If you have spent 3 hours setting everything up yourself, you will be less able to do this than if you’ve had a bunch of people to help you move furniture and do other general tasks.)

On the day:

Remind your support staff of important information:

This can be simple or complex. It can be general, or specific to an individual you think might have more potential for concern (either because of past experiences, or because they’re new to what you’re doing, or whatever.) Remind people where the fire extinguisher and other useful things are. Especially if it’s a large ritual, it might be nice to have an agreement about what the ‘we’re ending this ritual now’ conditions might be. (And what stuff, on the other hand, is “You and you deal with it, the rest of us will keep going.”)

Where are the relevant safety supplies?

Know where your fire extinguisher is. Also your nearest available bathroom (it does not count if you have to move a pile of furniture to get to it.) Do your helpers know where cups and water are (if someone needs water?) A few kinds of food? (Protein, something with sugar, something solid and grounding?) Where the first aid supplies are? Where a phone they can use is? (Ok, less relevant in these days of cell phones, but worth checking if you’re in a remote location with poor coverage.)

If you’re working in a situation where you won’t know someone’s disease status (blood borne and otherwise – you don’t want someone’s stomach flu, either), make sure you have cleaning supplies that will deal with this on hand in case you need to deal with cleaning up body fluids. At the very least try to have gloves, a suitable bleach solution, paper towels, and multiple plastic bags on hand.  (They’re all useful for other things, too!)

Practice good fire safety:

Covered this one already, but remember to blow out any candles you light, and to have a way to handle lit cauldrons safely. Be smart and put a heat-resistant surface under the cauldron, too, even if you think the heat won’t damage the floor/ground. Check and obey any fire restrictions if you’re outside.

Prepare your participants (and include a reminder on what to do if someone feels unwell, etc.):

Do a quick reminder with your participants on what you’re doing, and on what to do if they need to leave the ritual. Most commonly, this is asking an identified person or persons for help. If you have a number of helpers, a simple pinned symbol, or a piece of brightly colored ribbon around one arm or some other indicator can all be really helpful. Examples: “Raven is our Summoner: ask him for help if you need to leave circle” or “You can ask any initiate – people wearing white or red or black cords” or “Our helpers have an oak leaf pinned to their robe, ask any of them.”

Know some good methods for the most common issues:

In my experience, there are a few situations that are likely enough to make it worth having a solid plan in place. (That doesn’t mean they’ll happen – just that of the things that might go wrong, these are the most plausible) One of these, grounding issues, I’m going to cover separately, below. The others include:

• Someone knocking something (candle, chalice, etc.) off an altar accidentally. (Set breakables well back from any edge, consider having a dustpan and brush handy)
• Someone getting too close to a flame (set well back from edge, have a fire extinguisher handy, and containers are your friend).
• Other things involving fire, practice first, and remember  more is not better. Know where your fire extinguisher is.
• Blood sugar drop (ask the person what they need, cut them out of ritual to get appropriate food).
• Feeling faint (cut them out of circle, get a glass of water)
• Feeling overwhelmed (cut them out of circle, find a quiet place outside the circle and ideally out of noise range to sit and recover.)
• Unable to come back from meditation (see the grounding techniques)
• First aid needs (wasp sting, twisted ankle, sick to their stomach, etc.)

The issues of grounding:

One of the most common ritual ‘things that go a little wrong’ is people needing help to return fully to conscious awareness or to let go of the extra energy running around from ritual. Both of these have some possible risks – and honestly, they’re just plain uncomfortable. The first thing you should do to avoid this problem is to include a short grounding pause in your ritual closing. Often something short and simple will get everyone back. Some ritual methods include something as part of the cakes and ale where the priestess or priest will touch or hug everyone in circle – this is quick and easy way to make sure you get everyone back.

How do you recognise a problem? Here are some common signs that someone may need some more help. In all cases, a behavior that’s not normally like someone (i.e. someone who is very quiet is suddenly babbling, someone who is normally energetic is really reserved) is a good thing to check on. (Note: Check, don’t force. If you are not running the ritual, alert someone who is if there’s a possible problem.)

• Being jittery, unable to stay still.
• Chattering, babbling, unable to focus.
• Someone normally outgoing is being extremely quiet.
• Ongoing minimal response to people checking on them. (i.e. they say “Eh?” and that’s it instead of “Yeah, fine, thanks – just thinking about ritual.”)
• Absence of hunger when it would normally make sense to eat.
• Either easily upset, or flat, without emotional affect.

These signs won’t be the same for everyone – they may vary depending on you, on what you’ve been doing, and various other factors. You might have one common set of responses, but a different ritual will bring something else out.

What to do about it:

The following are a collection of the methods I’ve either used on others  or had work well for me.

• Walk through a full grounding method, without skipping or glossing over steps.
• Salt under the tongue is a classic remedy. Salt is energetically grounding and dampening.
• Hold a stone used for grounding (either hematite, etc. or a quartz crystal charged to focus on grounding and containing excess energy.)
• Hug a tree or lie flat on the ground (arms and legs spread out from the body) for 5 minutes.
• Sitting somewhere quiet for a few minutes often works too, but someone should check on you.
• Eat. Protein, dense grains, and dense veggies are best. Someone may only really want sugar, but get them to eat a bite or two of something sweet and *then* the dense stuff.
• Dark chocolate also helps a lot, interestingly. The good stuff.
• Turning on the news or some other very mundane/practical conversation.
• Walking, stretching, or other activity that centers you in your body.

One last remedy I learned this weekend is a physical one (so get permission to touch the person first!). Put one hand, thumb down, over the base of the skull. Put the other hand thumb up over the forehead/third eye. Have the person inhale. As they exhale, gently squeeze together. It’s a technique that helps recenter the person in their body, and also helps buffer from input from the third eye, and from the large bundle of complex nerves (and in some traditions, psychic centers) at the base of the skull. Firm pressure basically gives the body something else to work with than the more esoteric parts. Walking someone through wiggling or scrunching up each part of their body may also help center them in their physical selves.

What to do when warning in advance would affect the ritual:

And finally, a quick word about rituals where an element of surprise is part of it (or where the ritual itself is oathbound.) This is, of course, a tricky situation, because simply providing information is not always the best choice for the most effective emotional impact. Possibilities include:

• Only do rituals with a significant element of surprise with people you know well (so you know any of their possible concerns) and who also trust you to treat them well. Initiations following an extended period of interaction and training fit here, often.
• Do a general discussion. The group I trained in handled initiation information in part by having a class in which we said “Here’s why initiatory rituals happen, and what they’re supposed to do. Here’s a bunch of things that are commonly mentioned as possible options in them. We’re not going to tell you what ours involves, but if you have questions or concerns about any of these things, you should let us know so we can take it into account.” As mentioned, I’m asthmatic, and I’ve got a fairly strong reaction to anything that restricts postion of my neck (as some forms of ritual binding do) I told them, they took it into account, and I had no worries on the night in question about that, because I also trusted that they would take it seriously.
• Providing general information without details (“This ritual will involve some physical challenges: if you’re not sure whether you’re up for that, talk to [ritual organiser] about your limits, and we’ll tell you whether we think you’d be able to manage.”) This is not a great solution (because it requires people to reveal some personal information), but can work for some situations. But for “I can walk X distance, but not fast” sorts of needs, it can be great.

I’m sure there are many other options that could be included here – but this is certainly long enough for now. Again, questions, other suggestions, etc. are all welcome in comments.

One of my favorite blogs, Making Light, posted a fantastic analysis of many of the issues involved (practical, philosophical, and everything in between). One reason I was so glad to see a detailed post go up there, however, was because another of that blog’s contributors, Jim Macdonald, is (besides being a SF author) a wilderness EMT who’s been doing a long series of occasional posts about various medical calamities. One of the things both writers do a great job of is showing others what people can do that’s actually helpful in avoiding crises when possible, spotting problems early, and giving the best possible chance for the best outcome if they still happen.

The comment threads on Making Light run long (hundreds of comments are pretty common), but I encourage taking the time to read them: the community culture (and some clear moderation when needed) keep them very useful, coherent, and meaningful (even the thread-drift is handy). In this case, there are more links to supporting information and a great discussion of other ritual and spiritual safety issues throughout. (There is also a great thread on the Pagan news blog, The Wild Hunt that’s worth reading)

However, all of this got me thinking about issues of ritual safety in the Pagan community, and I thought it might be useful to put some of my thoughts into electrons.

The question of ‘what is safe’:

Many, many things we do – in all parts of our lives – have risks. We stand up, for example. We get in cars, and planes, and have dinner at restaurants, and hug people (who might have something contagious), and take public transportation. And all of those things (and pretty much everything else) have some risks attached.

In various parts of the Pagan community, we do things that have some greater risks. Burning incense? That adds a possible allergen or irritant to the air. If, like me, you’re asthmatic, that can be a problem in the wrong circumstances. Dancing? Easy for someone to twist an ankle. Outside for ritual? What happens if it turns cold and damp and people aren’t prepared? Or what happens if it’s 95 degrees and blindingly sunny out? (See Jim’s posts on hypothermia and hyperthermia for examples.)

There’s riskier stuff, too. Deep experiences of Drawing Down (having the deity speak through the body of the priestess or priest involved) can be a powerful and amazing ritual experience for everyone involved, but it has psychological and physical risks in various ways. (Deities, in my experience, don’t always get why something might be dangerous or uncomfortable or inappropriate for the body they’re inhabiting.) And many of our deeper ritual techniques are designed to poke at the areas we feel uncomfortable about, so we can better examine them and make changes we feel are necessary.

There are reasons to court these risks – just like there are reasons we choose to get in a car or plane, to eat food from a variety of sources, to do all sorts of things. But we should, ideally, do two things.

1) Have some idea of what the risks are (so we can make an informed choice)

2) Have some idea how to limit or mitigate the risks.

So, what does this mean in the Pagan community? Good question, so I’m going to look at it from two perspectives: someone attending an event (that they didn’t plan and don’t know lots of details about), and then from someone planning an event. (Since this post got long, I’ll do the planning an event as a separate post.)

Attending an event:

I even happen to have a handy example: this weekend, Thorn Coyle is doing a workshop in St. Paul on a topic near and dear my heart this year (integration of different parts of the self), and I’m going to be there all day Saturday and a chunk of Sunday. So, I’m going to use that as a part of my example.

1) Background education

The first part of safety, to my way of thinking, is ongoing personal education. When something related to safety comes up, take a little time to review it thoughtfully. This way, you build up foundation in safety issues that’s incredibly powerful over time.

The point with all of this is not to become an EMT or a doctor, or anything like that. The point isn’t even to retain all the details of different kinds of breaks, and what to do. The point is to give you a starting point so that you can evaluate possible risks, and decide what would make you feel safe enough to pursue that activity in that setting. The other part of the point is that if something does go wrong, you stand a much better chance of saying “Hey, wait… stop a minute” before it gets worse. You don’t need to be able to fix the problem – just knowing when to call for help is a *huge* win. Or, as is often the case, when to drink more water, get somewhere warm, or sit down for a bit without other stresses.

I started First Aid and CPR courses when I was 13 (as part of a babysitting course). Since then, I keep my hand in with regular renewals of the certification, and by picking up useful information as I go along. Sometimes that’s classes on issues in a particular setting (horseback riding, for example, which I did a lot as a teen). Sometimes it’s by reading (Jim Macdonald’s posts)

And when I read about other people’s ritual experiences, I often stop for a few seconds, and think about whether I’m interested in that kind of experience, and what kinds of safety issues or practical issues I’d want to pay attention. This both keeps me in the habit of thinking through possiblilities, but it also means that if something comes up suddenly (an activity in a ritual I wasn’t expecting), I don’t have to start from scratch.

The other part is building skills slowly over time. We don’t drive for the first time in a car at high speeds in bad road conditions. We learn in an open parking lot at slow speeds, and build up from there. Our ritual skills can work the same way: having a solid basic practice of common skills (centering, grounding, shielding, personal energy management, different simple/gentle ritual tools (chanting, simple dances, etc) can all build our experience so that if something more significant comes up, we have some way to fit it into what we already know without panicking.

2) Evaluate the specifics

If you have specifics about what’s going on (or when, or where), look at them. Some examples:

• Summer ritual? Evaluate for heat exhaustion and heat stroke risks. Pack plenty of water, no matter what it says about what’ll be available at the site.  Drink it, too. (And remember that caffeine – tea, soda, coffee – reduces hydration.) If I don’t need it, someone else might. An ice pack might be nice. And appropriate clothing that breathes, and sunscreen.
• Winter ritual? Look at concerns about mobility (slipping on ice) and cold damage (Minnesota can be lethally cold pretty fast a few times through the winter.) Also consider risks in driving (black ice, blizzard conditions, etc.) Wool and silk are my friends for clothing here, but also adequate boots, gloves, scarf, hat, etc. If I don’t know a good place to get warm (the car counts), I shouldn’t be going.
• Physically taxing ritual? What else am I doing around that time? Will I have energy reserves going into it? Will I have recovery time afterwards without putting my ability to do my job at risk?Have I recently been sick for more than a day or two, or am I in the middle of bad-allergy-and-asthma season?
• New ritual technique? Look at the risks and concerns that come with it, and decide what might help with any of them. Is it like other things you’ve done before, but a bit more so? Maybe spend some time with those more basic skills before the ritual.
• Situational issues: Is there flu going around your community? How will you feel if someone passes a chalice around to drink from? (Nice to think in advance what you’re comfortable with.) Does the ritual host have pets you’re allergic to? Take your allergy meds, and bring whatever other emergency needs you have.
• Personal limits and needs?  I’m asthmatic: I make sure that someone in any group I work in knows where my inhaler is. (Very simply, like “I always have one in an outer pocket of my bag.”). If you’re diabetic or prone to blood sugar issues, some kinds of ritual work can affect them. Trying new stuff with other people (or at least someone in the house who can come if you need a hand) is a really smart idea.
• Things designed to take you out of yourself? Guided meditation, drawing down, etc.? Start with small and contained experiences with this, before trying far more major ones. Work with people you trust and get to know over time. Work up in complexity and length.

This also goes for specific activities that have more significant risks. If you know an event is going to include a period of fasting, or a sweat lodge, eating or drinking specific things, or anything else that has medical warnings on it for some people, you should be asking several questions.

• What’s the point of this activity? How will you know if it’s successful?
• Could it be done using some other (safer) technique? (Not everything can be, but risk for risk’s sake is .. a risk.)
• Are there ways for people to participate at varying levels of risk/stress? If someone feels uncomfortable or at risk, can they do something relatively quickly that will help (get out of the immediate area freely, get water, get someone to help them?)
• Does the person monitoring the risky experience have specific training in doing that? Can you evaluate it for yourself, rather than just taking their word for it?
• If something goes wrong, how close is help?

The sweat lodge deaths:

The sweat lodge came after a fairly extended fast (which puts strain on the body), in a location at higher altitude (which also stresses the body if you’re not adapted). The sweat lodge was billed as not only being a way to purify the self, but to push beyond limits (see #3, below). According to various of the news reports,  people were encouraged to stay past their comfortable limits, and leaving the space was reportedly extremely difficult for both emotional and physical reasons. That’s a problem in every way.

They were also doing it in a fairly rural area with limited emergency care facilities within a short distance. That’s a big difference from being no more than 10-15 minutes from a major trauma center, and closer to several more quite competent emergency rooms. (As I happen to be most of the time, living in a major city.) And there’s no evidence that Ray had meaningful training in the safety aspects (and in fact, his method changed several traditional Native American practices that build in an additional safety buffer.) or had staff on hand who did or who knew the relevant warning signs and best practice treatments. Previous problems regarding sweat lodges Ray ran happened in 2005, and also in 2008, too.

None of this adds up to being a particularly good idea.

2b) Sometimes you won’t have specifics

That’s the case for the workshop this weekend: the actual announcement doesn’t have a whole lot of details about specific activities. However, I can do my own research. Here’s some of the things I know:

I know the basic physical set-up.

We’re meeting at our local Pagan community center, a space I’ve been in a number of times. I know what facilities they have, that I can get water and soda and other things easily. I know how long it will take me to drive home, and my best route if I’m tired or a little spacy. We’re going to be inside, so I don’t need to worry about heat, cold, or most of my allergens. I also know that breaks are planned for going out for food, so I don’t need to bring anything.

I know my own experience.

My training and group ritual experiences over the last 9 years have given me a good idea of what my healthy tolerances are, and what things I want to be cautious of.  For example, I know that I need to leave some energy and physical leeway leading up to this event to make the most of it. (10am to 9pm is a really long day for me, especially right now with my work schedule.) This event is worth it to me, so I also have made sure to schedule sufficient downtime in the days around the weekend.

I also know my own weaknesses.

For example, I have asthma, and my lungs are usually most grumpy at about this point in the fall. I’m actually having a very good fall re: asthma stuff this year, but I’m still going to need to probably be careful about some kinds of breathing work (otherwise, I can trigger a coughing fit), or substantial ongoing movement (dancing, for example.) I can do both these things, but need to be careful how. Don’t know how much they’ll come up – but do know it’s good to know where my own areas of caution might be.

I’ve done some obvious background research.

I have read Thorn’s books. While this probably won’t have everything we might do in it, it does give me a good idea what types of things might come up, and gives me a chance to prepare any questions I might have about specifics. If someone isn’t an author, looking at blogs or other web searches can often help. If I didn’t have time to read the books, I could still look at summaries or other shorter material. (And of course, if I were really not sure, emailing the organiser or Thorn directly would quite likely get me more information.)

I know people who’ve done other work with her.

(Both short-term and longer-term). I had conversations with a couple of them to get an idea of their impressions. This was a good idea anyway, as it’s a relatively large money and time investment for me, and I wanted to make sure I was likely to get enough out of the experience to make those things worthwhile.

Obviously, adjust for the setting. You don’t need to spend as much time for an evening event in a well-known location as you do for one that lasts longer, has a large outdoor component, or that involves techniques that are known to be risky in at least some cases. (fasting, sweat lodge-type structures, etc. Basically, anything that sometimes has a warning label on it that some people should not do.)

I’d guess that most of the time, my evaluation at this stage takes 20 minutes at most, and often a lot less (if it’s a group of people I know well, or a setting I know, or I’ve done similar evaluations before.) For example, my ‘ritual outside in winter’ checklist gets trotted out most winters, and is not that different from my “going outside for longer than it takes to get from work parking lot to door” checklist.

3) Look for warning signs.

Once you’ve looked at the specifics, look one more time for any warning signs. The following are things I’d have concerns about:

Language about ‘pushing through discomfort into change’

… especially if it’s got a very macho ‘no gain without pain’ thing going along with it. Yes, pushing through discomfort can be important, but only if you’re still able to function at the end of it.

One size fits all settings.

Sufficiently safe settings will have some options available (and clearly noted) that can be used if the basic practice isn’t accessible or safe for everyone. (Or, they’ll be really clear up front about what’s involved, and what people should be prepared to deal with.)

For example, a ritual with a lot of movement or dancing might arrange some spaces for people to sit or stand while drumming, clapping, or anchoring a chant. That’s participating, but gives options besides the most physically demanding option. Or a ritual may say “We’re going to be outside, standing and moving around for 3-4 hours in cold weather and probably wind on a steep slope. This is not a good ritual for people with mobility issues. Be sure to bring suitable warm clothing for several hours outside.”

Vague and general information.

Me, I trust the announcements with specifics a lot more. The more vague something is, the more wary I get. Thorn’s announcement would not have been enough for me *except* that I had other ways of checking on what kinds of activities were likely to arise.

Inadequate (or inadequately trained) staff/people running the thing.

Do the people helping know enough about what they’re doing to actually be helpful? Do they have relevant religious, professional, or other training that helps manage any risks or deal with problems? (Lots of previous experience with few problems is usually a good starting point, but it’s not the only thing to look for.)

Language about how those who are truly committed to the experience will be fine.

This is often a mask for ‘if you got hurt, it’s because you didn’t want it enough/weren’t ready for the experience’. In most settings the cost of failure should not be lasting damage, it should be that you just don’t get much out of the experience.

Isolation from people who know you well.

This can sometimes happen for good reason – a weekend festival or event that you go to by yourself, for example. However, you’re a lot more at risk of something heading out of balance here, than at a shorter event (where you go home to familiar space and resources), or if you go to something with a couple of friends who know you and your normal reactions really well. In either case, you’ll catch possible problems more quickly.

4) Be aware of the power of pressure.

It’s possible in some situations for there to be a feeling that one has to measure up, or meet certain benchmarks in order to be taken seriously. These are some of the most serious risks out there, partly because they’re very hard to avoid. They can crop up otherwise quite safe settings, or start as a game.

Knowing that it’s a possibility, however, helps. Doing some reading about how crowd psychology works does too. It doesn’t mean it’ll be easy to walk off and do your own thing when you need to – but knowing your own particular weak points means you can protect them a little more diligently.

For example, one response I have to my asthma is wanting to push through it and not let my lungs determine what I do. The problem is that’s not always good for me. Over the years, I’ve learned how to say “Sorry, can’t do that today” in situations where there was very little pressure, and little to be lost by saying it (walking with a friend, and asking to walk a bit more slowly, or avoid a particularly steep hill). That practice makes it easier for me to say it when the stakes are higher (being at a work event when a lot of outdoor walking is involved, and advocating for some different ways to approach it that also benefit students with medical limits in various ways.) And that makes it easier for me to quietly find an alternative in ritual if I’m not up for dancing, but that still lets me contribute, like at a Pagan ritual.

5) Listen to your intuition

If something feels off, ask more questions, or just plain don’t do that thing right now. Other chances will come around that will be similar. Do some more research, find people who’ve done it where you can ask any questions. Do some learning about specific components you may be concerned about. You’ll be better informed for the next time.

Done with this part – will do the part about the planning side in the near future.