The Chanting Circle

I feel like this night might become an important part of my journey ..

It wouldn't be at all anything out of the blue for Islanders, but for those in Ontario and elsewhere
this might be something new.

I was invited to attend a chanting circle, and eagerly accepted. I did not know what to expect, but
I love being in a circle of people. Whether it's around the campfire, a sleepover gathering on my bed,
stella-ella-olla on the playground, ring-a-round the rosie with some children.

I very much belong in circles.

I was dropped off just outside of a small cabin type home, surrounded by trees. A dog ran up to me barking and I asked if he was dangerous, I'm not a dog person and I really think they can sense my fear, anyway, I was told she was not and then welcomed into the home by a man I did not know.

I entered the room and there was a circle of chairs and two candles lit in the very centre of the place.
There was a door on the otherside, not far from me, opening onto the forest and breeze outside. There were two bird houses and a white cat.

I was welcomed by a woman who was preparing for the evening, and I smiled warmly and told both of them my name. Then I waited for everyone else

When the others arrived, they were told to take off their shoes, but when I went to do likewise, the man I had first met, winked and said it wasn't necessary. I felt so special, getting to keep my shoes on. They were simple tatami sandals and i felt they just fit. If we had been outside I definitely would have gone barefoot, but i was happy to be allowed to stay as I was.

When most people had arrived, I found out that we hugged.

I am not opposed to hugging. Quite often hugs happen for me almost unconsciously. I have hugged strangers and people I've met on the street. I love hugs!  However, this was a little bit uncomfortable for me, since the first person to hug me was a man in his early forties, I'm guessing, maybe older who explained how we hug left to left so that our hearts touch. I tried to go with it, to trust, but I couldn't help feeling that this guy was quite the initiation into coercive intimacy. I did my best, and then hugged others, after perhaps awkwardly offering a handshake as a bridge to the hug.

Then we all stood together arms around eachothers backs in a tight circle and the chanting began.

I came very close to laughing aloud since it really and truly was an "ohmmmmmmm" I did not have a clue what I was doing, but I just joined in. At one point I wondered if we were suppose to be staring at eachother - that perhaps that was part of the unity, so I glanced up and found everyone had their eyes closed. Chanting tends to lend itself to that naturally, and so I resumed my position of eyes closed or eyes open head bowed.

There was a brief, strangely normal moment when the leader discussed books and video's available to the group, and the members there discussed upcoming performances and an end of year bbq. This chatting seemed very out of place and to me, a new comer, a bit info-mercial like. But it also lent a certain normalcy to the whole thing too.

After all, no one was anything mystical or frightening. We were just people chanting, singing, coming together with one voice. In terms of performances, it turns out that there were opportunities for them to chant in Native communities, and festivals. Very cool.

Then we continued for the rest of the evening, and what did we continue doing.

Speaking in other languages, following new rythms, listening to the leaders deep barotone perfectly intune. We sang. We lifted our voices in an almost accapella sound, although we were so blessed by a drums and guitar.

The chants were Indian, B'ahai, Jewish, Spanish and more I couldn't disciphere. There were stories told about the meaning and invocation of the chants. It was the closest I had come in a long long time to feeling like I was apart of a community in another culture, in another country.

Tea ceremony, ikebana flower arrangement, the monks of Japan. The openess of homes and the importance of taking time with people, of Mexico. These two places where I belonged and wanted to stay forever.

I miss that life terribly.

It was so wonderful to feel that I had found a little of that, here in Canada.
It was not the same, but it was enough of a taste of it, to remind me of myself. How much I long for
being placed in a new language, to learn and to grow constantly in the presence of others.

The best of me seems to be disappearing into others lives and voices.
The less I actually understand, the more true I feel.

It was beautiful. Like listening to the Halleluhia chorus sung by many voices all blending together.

I wouldn't say that I felt anything mystical. There was no sense of floating or intensity of emotion, however, at times, when we sang certain notes, said certain words, I would feel like I could almost cry it was so beautiful. I longed to get to that word, that note again and again and again. Since chanting is all about repetition. It was a little journey each time, from the bottom to the top, from the darkness to the light, from the out of sync to the harmonized, from the faltering to the steady.

From beautiful to beautiful.

Afterwards, we put our hands together, bowed and said Namaste, and swept the smoke from the candles over ourselves and over everyone around us. Then we each had one chocolate covered mulbury sweet, so that the sweetness of our coming together would literally go with us as we left.