I used to burn a lot of sage. In fact, there was a period of time when I was burning sage every night before I went to bed. I would walk through my apartment with my ritual bowl, smudging all the areas where I had experienced pain or sadness. Hoping that the smudge would clear out all the negativity that I had experienced (or, perhaps more accurately, perpetuated) and create a clean slate for a better day come morning.
I don’t burn nearly as much sage as I used to. Indeed, I reserve it for rare occasions. In a contemplative mood this afternoon, as I was smudging my studio, I started to think about the purpose of my smudging and the intentions I would set for it in the past.
Smudging, to many in modern Western culture and in New Age spirituality*, is understood to serve as a means of dissipating negativity. Sometimes emotion and pain seem to hang so heavy in the air that they are as dense as a fog. The idea of engaging in a ritual act to shift the polarity of the space that surrounds us is a compelling one. We are seeking to free ourselves of negative energies, to refresh our state of being and drive out things that are harmful to us.
As time has passed, my perspective on this tactic has changed somewhat. In the past, as an addict, I was always seeking a refresh button. Amidst the constant inner conflict between trying to stop and feeling unable to stop, I would tell myself that after just one more binge, I would wake up the next morning and start anew. I felt plagued by both inside and outside forces and sought desperately to evade them. Always identifying as the victim of antagonism, I tried to escape my triggers; anything that overwhelmed or pained me was something that needed to be escaped. If I could just get into my happy place, I felt that maybe I could find a way to stay there forever. If I could do that, I could finally get better. Be better.
I’ve finally come to realize that evading pain is to dance a dance that ultimately distracts. We can’t escape the inescapable: to live is to experience pain, and ultimately, we have two ways of dealing with this inevitable reality.
The first is to avoid it by any means possible. This expresses in endless ways. By engaging in distracting behaviors (substance abuse, workaholism, and codependency; efforts to regulate, structure, and organize life in ways that make us feel as we are in control), we pretend that we can escape pain, negate it, or otherwise exist outside of it.
The second is to open to pain, despite our innate aversion to doing just that. That doesn’t mean that we become masochists. Rather, it simply means that we are receptive to the wisdom of pain and the opportunity that change creates for us. Instead of pushing negative feelings and sensory experiences as far away from us as possible – which was what I was seeking to do when I smudged, back in the day – we remain curious about why they are happening and are willing to look more deeply into what they might permit us to learn about ourselves.
This is very deep work, and it isn’t easy. It’s best to take it slow, and seek support. However, in my experience, the benefit to be had is inconceivably immense. It’s also intuitively good for us. When we close our hearts and minds, we limit ourselves, our fullest selves, and the depth of our connection to the world.
It’s frightening to exist in a state of disconnection and start to open again to it. We’re accustomed to seeing ourselves as other, to sheltering ourselves from things we fear might harm us. We’re accustomed to hiding ourselves out of a sense of self-preservation, because there’s a whole lot of meanness in the world, both external and self-inflicted.
But there’s also so much beauty that we shut out without knowing, when we close ourselves down. There’s immeasurable beauty in the absolute fullness of being. In being open, in experiencing the possibility of not judging, not discriminating, just being a part of it all and being okay with that, we start to become less sensitive to the painful things, and our perpetual fear state begins to diminish.
And we start to see ourselves less as a victim, and more of a participant, with a greater and more empowered role in shaping our own reality.
So when I smudge now, I often do it out of joy instead – not trying to scour the very air of anything that might harm me, but celebrating things as is, engaging with the sanctity of all experiences, possibly setting a sincere intention; and through the act of ritual, experiencing gratitude for it all. Welcoming in whatever state of being is happening. Fully here, fully present.
∞
* Please note that smudging is an ancient tradition utilized in a variety of indigenous cultures across the world. In this article, I refer only to the Westernized usage of smudging, an appropriated practice which its users utilize for their own purposes. Please consider reading further on the history and larger tradition of smudging, including the increasing scarcity of white sage due to overharvesting, if you choose to engage in a smudging practice.