Buried Alive Overnight

A Ritual of  Death and Re-birth 

I looked down at the gradually deepening oblong shape in the ground and tried to imagine what it would be like to be buried in it. With every shovel of dirt removed I felt my heart sink further and further. I was dreading being buried overnight.  I hear you do a double take. Yes, we were to be buried overnight. In a clearing in the woods eight graves were dug in a circle. We lined them with tarpaulin and covered them with a blanket staked to the ground.

Why? The ritual symbolises death and re-birth. The parts of you that are not useful in your life can be left behind and you arise full of new potential. 

Man! Was I freaked out! I wasn’t quite sure I wanted to do this. I hadn't signed up for it. Didn't  know about it in advance and was rather put out about that. Actually, heck! I definitely didn’t want to do it. I knew there was a high chance I would bail out or jump out in a hurry soon after I got in. I entertained the idea that I might loose my mind and get so traumatised I would spend the rest of my days in an asylum. The fact that we could get out at any point  was only marginally reassuring. The idea of being in a hole in the ground, tightly covered by a blanket, like the lid of a casket, was already taking hold in my worst nightmares and making me hyperventilate. Claustrophobia was setting in.

That afternoon, I hang out by my chosen grave plot, my fear translating itself into a need for control. I knew I had to walk away when I found myself trying to boss my grave digger on how deep, how wide and how fast to dig my grave. I went to hang out in the camp. As the sun begun to descent from its crest in the sky so my dread rose. All the others felt the same, but we talked about it very minimally, as if giving it voice would unleash an unmanagable  terror. A private silent dread was spreading, only shared in half meaningful looks and part wispers. 

At 9pm, with the night well settled,  we set off for our burial ground. I dragged my sleeping bag and thermarest through the forest (well, at least this was a luxury burial!). The forest was dark and quiet. We walked in a straight line on the barely discernible path. The almost -full moon failed to pierce the tree canopy. The forest was still and silent and we walked the walk of the wretched, each lost in our trepidation.

Disbelief at what I was about to subject myself to, anxiety, fear and incredulity all flitted in and out of my mind. We arrived at the grave site. The moon, uninhibited by trees, shone in all its glory, revealing the circle of graves, each with its accompanying mound of displaced soil. The smell was evocative of cemeteries- that eartlhy, ozone rich, musty smell of the gardens of the dead.  The epicentre of the death berths was a pyre waiting to be lit. Nadia, our facilitator, would keep the flames alive and keep vigil over us throughout the night.  She gave us the code word for needing attention during the night, including getting out of the grave:"Room service". I must admit that at the time I failed to register the funny side of that. Standing next to my grave I felt chilled in my heart. I was numb with disbelief and yet I was still going through with it. Yet I sensed an almost imperceptible part of me laughing its head off. It did occur to me for a split second that I might have already lost my mind. Thankfully, it was only the part of me that gets me in improbable situations. The one that eggs me on to “feel the fear and do it anyway”. The part of me that pushes past my self imposed boundaries. It’s the part that encourages me to keep seeking. That slightly in-sane part of me that I am gradually learning to trust.

Nadia blessed each one of us with a shamanic incantation and doused us with smoke from white sage sprigs to purify us. And just like that, the gnawing fear left me. I looked down at my grave and all I saw was  a sleeping place. Ridiculously, it occurred to me that it might be similar to sleeping in a bath tub. Huh? I descended in the hole, snuggled in my sleeping bag, wished the others a good death and re-birth and the blanket was staked over me.

Feeling pleased with myself I looked up. The blanket was barely inches over my face. Claustrophobia tried to assert itself. I cruelly supressed it. It was hot in there. Too hot. I wriggled around trying to take off my socks and fleece. As it became a bit more comfortable, smoke from the fire and incense started drifting in my hole in the ground. I found it hard to breathe. I almost lost it. I willed myself to calm down, to get past the fear. During the blessing we each wished silently for the parts of us that of us needed to die to die overnight. I asked for Fear to die. Fear and Neurosis. So, when barely in my grave, I thought I couldn’t take anymore, I remembered my wish and quelled the fear, banned the neurosis. I wanted both dead and buried. I wanted them to seep into the earth and stay there. I wanted to be re-born the next morning free of fear, free of fanciful neuroses. I reassured myself that nothing lasts forever and that the night would pass.

Then I heard Nadia telling us in a grave tone(no pun intended!) that this night was not for sleeping. We were to play back our lives, from today to as far back  to our birth we could remember. You'd think I'd be  glad for a task to occupy my mind and keep it from freaking out. Pff! I found it impossible to think of my life in a linear way. I started with two years ago...then forced myself to go  back to now... I jumped around 20 years back... I forced myself to come back to now. I was feeling tired and to my amazement drowsy. The harder I tried the less my memory wanted to play. I fought the waves of sleep valiantly...oh, for about 5 minutes... and then thought: “Sod it!” and letting go I felt myself drift off with a smile at the comforting serious snoring coming from my neigbouring living dead.

Some time later I woke up feeling a throbbing in the earth and hearing the constant sonorous beat of a drum. The drum of death. A soothing sound. I wondered vaguely if all the others were still in their graves. Had anyone bolted? I sent them all love and courage and marvelled at how cozy and comfortable this place in the earth felt. I turned on my side and floated off again with the comforting thought and hope that all my dead-my real dead- might have felt as held and comforted in their own graves.

I had vivid dreams in that hole in the ground, in the middle of the forest, surrounded by the mighty Himalaya, illuminated by the silver, almost perfectly formed moon, being serenaded by the eerie beat of not just Nadia’s drum, but also of another much further away in the valley, causing the earth to vibrate. I  have no memory of my dreams and yet I know that they brought me healing. Being held by the Earth felt magical. In a surreal way-or maybe in a very real way- it feels like the Earth's energy seeped into my body, into my mind and deep in my soul and re-set whatever needed to be re-set. Am I free of fear and neurosis? Well, I am free-er. 

At dawn Nadia unstaked our blankets and woke us up: “Welcome to your new life”. Eight creatures peered up from the holes. Timidly, bleary eyed  first, then joyfully, full of amazement and elation. We took our first steps looking at the world in amazement. The young dawn light, the rich colours of the leaves, the dewy grass... We felt the cool morning chill bring a welcoming freshness to our body. We  inhaled the revitalising cool air and feasted our eyes on the newly born sun as it clinged onto the snow- capped mountain peaks. We whooped and hugged each other fiercely, jumping up and down with joy. Then in awed silence we retraced our steps back through the still dark woods, filled with birdsong.

Back at camp we relished our  first cup of tea of the day, our last sustenance for  the next 4 days. The Vision Quest proper was about to start.