Grief and good cheer

Grief, Gluttony, Giving, Gratitude. Our experience of Christmas tends to fall into one or two of those areas.

 

Christmas has always been a cherished time in my life, made magical by parents who brought the festive season alive with enchantment and mystery. The Germanic tradition my parents passed onto me is something I still honour. And so, I celebrate on Christmas Eve by candlelight with a lovingly prepared meal and gentle time with my loved ones. This, to me, is Christmas. It’s based on simplicity, love, beauty, and kindness.

As children we would gather by the tree (one grown on our land), the scent of pine infusing the room as we sang Christmas songs in both German and English. To celebrate Christmas was to cross the threshold into another world: it was, indeed, ceremonial, and imbued with ritual, magic and love. I’ve always adored Christmas for its ability to bring heightened beauty into my life.

 

Carrying this beacon from my mother to my own children was no easy task. I’m not sure I ever managed to carry it off, but I will always cherish the years that my daughters were part of this season. I remember their sweet little faces as they sang songs, played instruments; and, as they grew older, their place alongside me in the kitchen preparing the celebratory food. There was nowhere in the world that I wanted to be other than with my little family all safe and happy under one roof. The whole of December was one long festive cheer. The fact my Christmas CD collection is disproportionately huge compared to any other type of music, is evidence of that. Those days are gone. Family Christmases are lost forever.

 

 

The Grief-riddled Christmas

Over the years, I’ve invited people who’ve been on their own to spend it with me (firstly, when I was single) and then later, when I had my own family. One of those people was my dearest friend Pam. She hated Christmas. Her dad had died the week before Christmas, when she was just ten years old. As you can imagine, it had a life-long impact. Over the years, she’d come and be a valued part of our family celebrations. I always hoped that by having her share Christmas, it might help to disrupt the script she had of it being a hated event. I was wrong. Christmas Day 2016: She hung herself with the dog lead. There’s no nice was of framing that event. That’s the reality of it. Here one minute. Gone the next.

 

 

There’s a level of grief that will inevitably permeate every Christmas I experience from here on in (no matter how optimistic or determined I am to free myself from that weight). I alternate between missing our laughter, shared tears, hugs, long walks, the sharing of rom-coms at the cinema, and someone I could talk to in a way I’d never been able to talk to anyone else and wanting to slap her. I find myself so angry at her level of selfishness. “Christmas day, Pam? Ffs!” And then I remember how much she hated life, and I allow myself to understand. I respect her choice, knowing she’s at peace. Oftentimes, I find myself envying her and that complete freedom she now has from all earthly crud.

 

Types of grief

Of course, grief isn’t a one size fits all, and there are many types of grief which can riddle the Christmas season.

 

There can be the death of someone we’ve loved either at Christmas or throughout the year, and the ‘festive’ season being lived without their presence can take its toll. We feel obligated to wear the face of ‘good cheer’ so as not to ruin Christmas for anyone else, while all the time we just want to scream. We’re forced to suppress our grief.

 

There can be the death of family life as we’ve known it, either by circumstance (kids or parents moving far away), estrangement, or with them just being unavailable due to other commitments.

 

For those of a more sensitive, highly empathic, humanitarian disposition, world grief can bite at the heels causing us ongoing torment. How can we have all this greed and gluttony in our faces while people around the world are starving, in war zones, having homes burnt down, stuck in prisons, or enduring the violation of their human rights. Knowing there are people sleeping rough on the streets or others who’ve gone missing, animal cruelty, and so on, can take its toll on our wellbeing. That they are strangers, makes no less an impact than if we knew them personally. Our culture doesn’t offer support for those who feel this pain acutely. Serving up a festive meal and ensuring everyone has gifts and been sent a card can feel numbing and utterly pointless when the world is falling apart.

 

We may experience grief when our home has been taken from us in some way, through flood, fire, violation or even because a loved one has died there. Home is meant to be our sacred space, our safe place in this world. If you like, it’s our second skin. When that’s peeled from us, we’re more vulnerable than ever. Where do we go? How can we create a sense of safety in our life?

 

Maybe we are grieving our health, knowing illness is taking its hold and that our days or months on earth are few. Perhaps it’s amplified by unhealed rifts with friends or family.

Perhaps we’re grieving the loss of employment or other ways we identify ourselves or measure our value.

It could be that we’re grieving the permanent loss of a relationship: friendship, partner or child.

These forms of silent grief don’t have a funeral. There’s no one to pat us on the shoulder and say “I’m sorry for your pain.”

 

Grief may show up in the form of existential questioning. “Why am I here?” “What’s the purpose of life?” “Why do I have a charmed life while that person is on the streets?” Or maybe it’s “Why is my life so shit?” This can be as isolating as any other grief, and just as misunderstood. Like other forms of grief, there are no answers.

 

Grief, like water, is difficult to contain; always finding a way to seep through any available space. We use funerals to publicly share our grief, if only for a half hour or so. Mourning has no timeline. It doesn’t conform to trends, habit or belief systems. It is almost unidentifiable because it is unique to each person. No one can ever understand the landscape of our grief. For the most part, grief is an invisible parasite sometimes feasting and other times resting. All we know is that we aren’t in control of how it will behave at any given moment.

 

Of course, we don’t need the Christmas season to bring up all the variations of grief, but the expectation of festivity and good cheer is so mired in our cultural soup that it only heightens anything unlike itself.

 

Gluttony

Yesterday I popped out to the shop to get a red cabbage and Brussels sprouts for Christmas Eve dinner. The queues were eye watering and glacially slow but not nearly as much as the over-laden trolleys. The anger and bickering between couples and families as they fought their way through the jungle of Tesco, only highlighted just how far removed we are (culturally) from the point of Christmas. Even if the ‘cute baby Jesus story’ isn’t our thing, surely the reason for the season is actually about expressing love? If not, then WHAT IS IT FOR? Why do we continue to engage in something that seems to cause no end of stress to so many people? Every year, at least a dozen people will ask me: “Are you ready for Christmas?” That is, have I bought and wrapped loads of presents and stressed myself to the max. My answer is always the same: “I keep Christmas simple, and I don’t get overwhelmed by it.” About the only Christmas card I send now is to my mother. Gifts are for immediate family. It’s not selfish, it’s self aware. I could easily send out hundreds of cards and buy dozens of presents. These things don’t make the world a better place.

 

Christmas that straddles the terrain of crass commercialisation and the keeping up of appearances can only end up producing emptiness. A beautiful Christmas isn’t dependent on excess, greed, and over consumption (food, alcohol or presents). Giving isn’t determined by bank balance or baubles and tinsel.

Do we really need to buy that much food and alcohol for the couple of days that the shops are shut? Do we have to send Christmas cards to everyone we know? As with most things in life, if we’re always motivated or hindered by ‘but what will they think?’ it means we’re not being true to our self.

 

Giving

To give from the heart is to give of ourselves. In a world that’s riddled with pain, we can weave our way gently by touching others with sincerity and kindness. Even the smallest action can make a difference. Donating or volunteering to food banks, gifting to homeless shelters, visiting elderly people in a hospice who have no family, smiling at a stranger on the street, taking time to say to the person on the check out in hell city (supermarket), “I appreciate what you’re doing, and I hope you have a peaceful Christmas,” (ditto the people cleaning public loos) or checking on someone who has been bereaved – these acts of giving help to create a new world: a place that’s kinder and more gentle.

Gratitude

Gratitude is quite possibly the highest level of vibration that exists. The simplicity of just ‘being’ allows us to step beyond all cultural expectations and to be ourselves, grateful for our place in the world. Whether it’s from the perspective of ‘there, but for the grace of the Universe, go I,” or recognising that we could have been born into a different body, family, country, custom, religion or culture, and that where we are now is okay.

 

Do we have a roof over our head?

Do we have a meal to eat?

Do we have someone (no matter where they are geographically) we care for and who cares about us?

 

If we have these basics, is there a way we can share some of the good we have?

 

If we don’t have these, is there a way we can ask for what we need?

 

There will always be people with more or less than we have, physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually. In the words of the late Ram Dass, “We’re all just walking each other home”.

If that’s true (and I have no reason to doubt it), then what can we do to help each other enjoy that journey? Surely that’s the meaning of Christmas, and every other day of the blessed year.

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Celebrant Training Cumbria

 

Even though our Celebrant Training is based in Cumbria, we attract students from America, Canada, and across Europe and the UK.

Heart-led Ceremonies is tutored by Veronika Sophia Robinson, a celebrant with almost 25 years of experience creating, writing and officiating all manner of ceremonies. The vocal coaching is given by Paul Robinson, an experienced celebrant and voice coach. The tutoring is specific to celebrant voice work.

Heart-led Ceremonies Celebrant Training is intense, creative, practical, inspiring and thought-provoking (and for some students, completely life changing), but it also involves a huge level of commitment from the student not only during the face-to-face training but afterwards with ongoing Skype sessions between the student and the tutors.

Unlike some training organisations, our certificates are issued on aptitude not attendance. This guarantees that all of our working celebrants are of the highest professional standard in the industry.

We make no apologies for these high standards as we take the role of celebrancy seriously, and we honour the fact that grieving families are vulnerable. Regardless of the type of ceremony you wish to create and officiate, we expect a high-level of professionalism from all our graduates. This begins with the commitment they bring to their training

Private Celebrant Training with Industry Experts

The training offered is done on a one-to-one basis; though two students who know each other are welcome to train at the same time.

The two-day course runs from 10am to 5pm. On the first evening you will have FOUR hours of independent learning time which includes written assignments to be completed in full by the next day.

The five-day course runs from 10-5pm, with TWO hours of independent learning time (for each of the first four days) which includes written assignments to be completed by the next day.

We’re often asked the difference between the 2 and 5 day training.

The 2 day will give you the nuts and bolts of what you need to become a professional celebrant.

The 5 day gives you the time and space to allow everything to embed, and to go deeper into the heart of celebrancy.

This training is person-centred, and offered in a relaxed and nurturing environment. Lunch and refreshments included.

 

TWO-DAY TRAINING | £580

FIVE-DAY TRAINING | £1450

Please note that this fee is tax deductible once you start working as a celebrant.

Please Note: All options include at least ten hours follow up by Skype or Facetime, as well as being included on the closed Facebook group for successful graduates where they’ll receive ongoing hints, tips, guidance, as well as other support.

Post-course support is ongoing, and there are opportunities to shadow experienced celebrants.

All formats include the study and practical experience of:

♥ Understanding ceremony structure. If you know how to create one type of ceremony you can create any ceremony (hence the reason this course encompasses funerals, namings, weddings, and other rites of passage).

♥ Recognising the skills and qualities necessary for personalised and professional, heart-led, celebrancy.

♥ Funerals, Memorials, Interment of Ashes (Understanding grief, family disputes, working with funeral directors, creating meaningful farewells, cremations, burials, eco-burials). In the five-day training, you may be able to include a visit to the crematorium or a funeral director. Both private training options may also include shadowing Veronika or other Heart-led Celebrants at a funeral or family visit.

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♥ Weddings, Handfastings, Elopements and Vow Renewals

 

♥ Naming Ceremonies (for babies, children, adults, and transgender people who wish to have their new identity formally honoured)

♥ Other rites of passage, such as menarche, blessingways, sagesse (wise crone), new business, divorce healing, and more.

 

♥ Understanding the legalities around death, funerals and marriage (e.g. the difference between a registrar and a celebrant)

♥ The difference between a heart-led celebrant and other types of celebrants

♥ The difference between an independent celebrant and a humanist

♥ Indoor and Outdoor Ceremonies

♥ Creating Sacred Space

♥ Setting Intention

♥ Creative Writing

♥ Script Writing

♥ Word Medicine

♥ Storytelling

♥ Performance

♥ Archetypes in Storytelling

♥ Symbols, Rituals and Altars

Altar at an outdoor wedding ceremony officiated by www.veronikarobinson.com

♥ Ceremonial Herbs

♥ Working with the Four Elements

♥ Body Awareness

♥ Celebrant Well-being

♥ Understanding the role of the Community Celebrant

♥ Voice development and coaching (this is required as an ongoing commitment by students via Skype after the initial training)

Sophie

Sophie

♥ Being of Service

♥ The Responsibility of being a Celebrant

♥ Developing a higher-vibrational heart frequency

♥ Enhancing Intuition

♥ Sacred Connections with Clients

♥ Mainstream and Metaphysical Marketing

♥ Being Self-Employed

♥ Establishing Your Celebrant Business

♥ The Four Sacred Archetypes of Building Your Celebrancy Brand

Applicants

Applications are invited from people who are committed to developing awareness of self and others, willing to train to an excellent level, are creative, independent, inspirational, authentic and courageous, and wish to consciously create beautiful ceremonies in their community.

Unlike any other training course in England, this focuses on the importance of ongoing personal development, and takes a mind, body and soul approach to celebrancy and ceremonies, as well as recognising the importance of ongoing skill building.

The foundation of this celebrant training is based on integrity and self-awareness.

 

Dear Veronika,

There are not enough words to thank you for the truly life-changing two days spent with you in your lovely home in the beautiful Cumbrian countryside.  You are an inspiration, a mentor and an advocate. You helped me to value myself and the gifts I can bring to this new chosen career.  

You challenged me, but in a gentle and empathetic way that made me feel that it was going to be ok to try to get my words onto the page and then “off the page”.  By the time I started writing with you (and it was very early on the first day), I felt that no matter what the result was to be, I had a soft place to land, and that you would support my efforts, no matter what the end product. And, as a result, I could take risks with my emotions and my words; not easy for anyone, especially an introvert like me.

I learned more about being a celebrant from you in two days than I did in the entire nine months of my previous program. I now feel that I can, with grace, humility and hard work, develop and deliver celebrations that will honour and support events in anyone’s life journey. 

Thank you, thank you, Veronika for giving me the gift of “you”. You are a true, beautiful and rare gem. I shall never forget our time together.

Thank you.

Brenda Martin, Canada

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A magazine for celebrants around the world

If you’ve entered the world of celebrancy after being in paid employment and surrounded by other people all day long, you soon come to realise there are acres of time spent on your own. Working hours are irregular, too: there can be evening visits to those in mourning, and for wedding celebrants Saturdays are booked up long in advance, not to mention those midweek ceremonies. We can sit up long, long into the dark of night writing scripts.

Issue 2 of The Celebrant magazine

 

In an ideal world, we’d meet up with other celebrants each week and share ideas. This is where The Celebrant magazine comes in: it’s your ‘get-together’ with other celebrants to share, inspire, grow and remain enthusiastic.

 

Veronika Robinson - funeral celebrant

Launched in September 2019 to an international readership, The Celebrant exists to unite celebrants around the world.

Amy and Samantha

 

The magazine is edited by Veronika Robinson who has been a celebrant (officiating all manner of ceremonies) for 24 years, and is the tutor at Heart-led Ceremonies Celebrant Training in Cumbria. She’s enthusiastic about sharing ceremonies and rituals from around the world.

Issue one of The Celebrant magazine

 

To subscribe, visit:

www.veronikarobinson.com/celebrant-magazine

 

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Sagesse Ceremony: Honouring the Wisdom of our Elders

As we descend further into the chill of Autumn, my thoughts shift to an upcoming script I’ll be writing: A Sagesse Ceremony. Sagesse is from the French, and means ‘wise’.

 

I recently officiated a funeral for a woman who, when due to retire from the NHS, was given a certificate to say she could keep working. She stayed in that job until 75, and then continued working in private care right into her 84th year. Stories like this are few and far between. Of course, some people can’t wait to retire. This could be because they hate their job, or have fabulous hobbies they want to spend more time on, or they simply don’t need to work because they’re financially secure. But what we don’t tend to talk about as a culture is what happens when we reach society’s Use-By Date it has assigned us. More often than not, Culture offers the elderly a nursing/care/retirement home. So long they’re comfortable and fed, let’s keep them away from the rest of the world and out of sight. We certainly don’t want to be reminded about what’s down the track for us at the end of life, do we?

 

One of the reasons for the rapid deterioration of the elderly is because they’re no longer valued. They’re not considered an asset and so with that loss of purpose, what else do they have to live for? Studies show, for example, that hands-on grandparents live longer and are healthier than those who don’t have such interactions. In the moving book, Being Mortal, we read about how people in care homes where there are indoor plants, pets such as cats, dogs or even a lorikeet in each resident’s bedroom, visiting children, and vegetable gardens they can tend, usually come off most or all medication and thrive. Why? Because they have a sense of purpose. Each day there is a focus, a job to do, something or someone to observe or care for. It’s pretty much common sense, but this is so fundamentally lacking in many options for the elderly.

 

 

 

 

I had a conversation a year or so back with a man in his early 70s who was reluctant to retire from his business because of the lack of purpose he’d be facing. He wanted to do something with all the knowledge and expertise he’d spent a lifetime accumulating. Where was he to leave and share that experience, he wanted to know. Some elderly people volunteer in charity shops, and others befriend the lonely. On the whole though, culture shuns those who are no longer of use.

 

Writing ceremonies for those transitioning between working or reproductive life, and what’s on the other side of that, is done so with immense reverence, and with the intention of honouring all that has gone before, and how that shall be mindfully carried into the future in such a way that the Cloak of Wisdom is wrapped as a regal shawl of worldliness. Such a ceremony may be titled: wise crone; sagesse; menopause; Saturn return, for example.

 

The elderly are the libraries of our culture. We’ve already seen the impact of kindle on bookshops, and social media destroying face-to-face communication; how long will it be before care homes are considered a ‘waste of space’? Changes happen incrementally in our world. Things come and go: people, trends, inventions, values. When parents/grandparents are no longer an integral part of family life, they deteriorate. But you know what? So do we. We lose the vital opportunity to have our lives enriched.

 

 

When I come across someone in their 90s who is positively thriving, it’s always because they have a rich and purposeful life: they’re avid gardeners, bakers, have a firm family life, volunteer, are still driving and therefore independent, and so on. They’re not sitting on a sofa watching Jeremy Kyle.

 

Think about the elderly people in your life whether they are family, friends, neighbours or even strangers you pass. When was the last time you stopped and talked to them? Really talked to them. Not about the weather or some external thing, but about what their dreams were/are, their passions, their regrets, their loves, their losses. What makes their heart sing? If you don’t have the time or inclination to care about such people, just remember this: one day you’ll be old, and there may not be anyone around to value your life’s journey. Maybe you’ll be shunted away without anyone giving a damn as to all you’ve learnt and can pass on to others. What makes a life meaningful (goes the reading I sometimes share at funerals), is not what we learn but what we teach.

 

So, when you’re old, will you be wise? Will you feel impotent because there’s no one interested in all the experiences you’ve garnered and life lessons you’ve mastered? What shall you do with your three score years and ten of ‘life’?

 

When I teach celebrant students, I say that the most important part of this job is our ability to listen. It doesn’t matter a jot if you’re the world’s best writer, performer, have good business sense, are a whiz at marketing, or have fab social skills or thousands of likes on Facebook. If you can’t slow down, keep your mouth closed other than to ask caring or insightful questions, then you miss laying the strong and vital foundations of all ceremony work. If the same truth was applied to our cultural approach to the aging, oh how different society would look.

(*silent and listen contain the same letters)

 

For my part, it will be my immense privilege to start creating a Sagesse (wise woman) Ceremony for a lady transitioning into being an elder in her community.

 

Veronika Robinson is a Heart-led Celebrant who has been officiating ceremonies since 1995, and is a Celebrant Trainer in Cumbria where she offers private tuition in all aspects of celebrancy. She’s also the editor of The Celebrant magazine. Veronika is currently President of the Association of Independent Celebrants.

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Celebrancy and Cooking: what do they have in common?

 

As an Aussie-born child, I had the delicious delight of being raised by German parents. Christmas was an absolute joy and wonder year after year. It was never a commercialised event based on how much money could be spent or buying presents to make up for presence; and it is still a ceremony that I hold as sacred (not in a religious sense, but as a time of family devotion, love and dedicated rituals).

 

Amongst the beautiful memories of singing carols in German and English by the gorgeously scented Christmas tree (grown on our land) with candlelight all around, are the tastes of Christmas. Mother would bake stollen (German fruit bread with marzipan). Our home would be awoken by the scent of spices mingling, brandy, almonds and honey as the yeast-based dough rose willingly in a warm bowl. As I sat nibbling on some shop-bought stollen today (with the student I have here for 5-day celebrant training), I confessed to feeling a bit like a fraud eating the stollen I’d bought when I’m perfectly capable of making one (and have done, over the years while my daughters were growing up).

 

 

While my student, Lorna, is writing a naming ceremony, soup is simmering on the stove top. Despite the grey, glum day outside, we’re warm and cosy. Not long now till I’ll serve up the home-made minestrone for lunch. How good does food taste when made with love and care and cooked from raw ingredients? So many of my warmest childhood memories are tied up around delicious food always cooked from scratch: the best mushroom soup ever made from the wild mushrooms we’d collect after much-needed rain. Saturday night was always pancake night (crepe-like with lemon juice and brown sugar): mum’s secret ingredient was custard powder. Whether it was delicious sweet treats like stollen or lebkuchen or the healthy salads we’d eat at night, they were always prepared with care.

 

After reading through some of the ceremonies I shared with Lorna as part of her training, she made the comparison between celebrants who use templated scripts for their ceremonies (the ‘cut and paste’ celebrants), and those who write (cook) from scratch. The difference is… LOVE.

 

The pot of minestrone I made for my daughter a few days after she’d given birth to my granddaughter.

 

Similarly, registrars use one of three or four scripts (in the UK) and everybody gets one of those for their wedding ‘ceremony’. It’s like having cup-a-soup from a packet. They all taste the same. One size fits all. Yeah, it’ll do, but really, where’s the magic? Where’s the love? Where’s the care? Where’s the personalisation?

 

 

 

When I make a pot of minestrone, there’ll always be similar things: the tomatoey base, some gluten-free spaghetti and some beans. Everything else is ‘what do I have? What will make this delicious?’ It could be, as in today, sweet potato, red pepper, spinach leaves, pinto beans, smoked paprika, black pepper, Italian herbs. Another time, it might have green beans, broccoli, carrots, potato. It’s still minestrone but it’s personalised.

 

 

When I order soup in a café (and I rarely do, as I’d rather have my own soup at home), I can immediately taste if it’s from a can or a packet. Immediately! When you’re a heart-led celebrant, you can immediately recognise a scripted ceremony when you hear/read it.

 

 

As celebrants, we surely come to this role as guardian of the liminal spaces that people must pass through on their rites of passage to give them the best ceremony (and celebrant) they deserve? Now, it’s fair to say that in a ‘hungry’ world where people are generally deprived of meaning, it could be said that any ceremony will fulfil that need. If you have the choice to feed someone soup from a packet or one you’ve made yourself, presumably the first is only an option if you’ve no other food in the house? As a celebrant, though, we ALWAYS have food in the house of our creativity. If we’re too lazy to draw on those ingredients, perhaps the job should be left to someone who has the time, care and energy to make a worthwhile offering?

 

 

Veronika Robinson is a Heart-led Celebrant who has been officiating ceremonies since 1995, and is a Celebrant Trainer in Cumbria where she offers private tuition in all aspects of celebrancy. She’s also the editor of The Celebrant magazine. Veronika is currently President of the Association of Independent Celebrants.

 

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The Celebrant magazine

 

The Celebrant magazine is here!

 

This invaluable and gorgeous full-fat resource for celebrants-in-training and working celebrants is edited and published by Cumbrian-based celebrant Veronika Robinson. A whopping 88 pages, each colourful issue is brimming with lively, intelligent, interesting and inspiring articles relevant to all aspects of ceremony and celebrancy.

 

Consider it your 24/7 CPD. This handy A5 publication is easy to read in the bathtub, while waiting for a train, in bed, or any other place where you’ve got some spare time and when you wish to be re-energised in your celebrant role.

 

 

The Celebrant is a subscription-only print publication available worldwide.

 

 

 

The Celebrant: international journal of celebrants and ceremonies

 

ISSN 2632 – 9557

Subscribe here:  Celebrant Magazine

 

Publisher and editor: Veronika Robinson/Starflower Press

 

 

 

U.K. publication dates

 

September: Autumn Equinox

 

December: Winter Solstice

 

March: Spring Equinox

 

June: Summer Solstice

 

 

 

The Celebrant magazine warmly welcomes submissions from celebrants around the globe. Contact us for submission guidelines.

 

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A Courageous Life: a funeral celebrant’s thoughts

How often do we use the word ‘courage’ to denote someone who acts bravely in the face of adversity? It’s certainly how most people understand the word and its tone of battle-like determination. Yet, when I reflect on what it means to live a courageous life, it is based on the original meaning. Courage comes from the Latin, Cor, meaning ‘from the heart’.


A courageous life is one whereby you tell your heart story without a flutter of doubt about your north star. It is a life based on inner values and the ability to speak your truth. The languages of trust, listening within, intuition and authenticity are ones few people would associate with courage, and yet, they are essential companions walking ‘hand and heart’ with the life of those who listen to their inner drummer.

 

 

The treadmill of life, which we are all hoisted onto at birth and ripped off at our expiration date – no matter how great and glorious the world has decided we are – has most people just trying to get by. At times, it feels like we have to run just to keep up, or else we’ll fall off. If you ended up being born into Western society, you’ll have been enculturated with beliefs about your worth stemmed firmly in external validation (it begins at birth with our measurements and weight!; and continues with grades, certificates and awards, for example), and status symbols of car, career, house, wealth, and so on. A Yang-based cultural soup encourages egocentricity. Now, it’s not that we shouldn’t aim or reach for such things if they’re meaningful to us. The question, however, must be asked: Does this desire mean something to me or am I trying to prove something to someone else? Parents, siblings, peers, friends, and so on? Honest reflection isn’t encouraged by those around us because, if it were and we were true to ourselves, we’d probably all make radically different choices. However, to our great detriment, almost everyone lives their life based on what other people will think.

 

 

If we truly made decisions based on what felt right to us, and on what made our heart move through this world with joy – and therefore lived our days without fear of censure, or the desperate need of applause – how might our life look? Would it even be recognisable? What if, we were simply true to our inner calling?

 

My work as a Heart-led Funeral Celebrant is based on listening intently to the stories I hear of other people’s lives, and then it is up to me to craft meaningful ceremonies and create stories from the snippets of information I’ve gleaned. Being immersed in a family’s grief has a profound impact on me. Deeply empathic, it’s as if I draw their pain right into my heart. The one thing that always stands out for me, though, is the simple truth: we can’t take ANYTHING with us when we’re booted off the treadmill. Except love. Read that again, if you need to. Love. Where does love emerge from? The heart.

A humanist, of course, doesn’t believe that love continues after death. I do, though.

 

 

So, if we really understood that everything is temporary, and that all the stress, madness, ambition, control and power are, frankly, pointless, would we live differently? How about greed, consumption, jealousy? Who are we without our titles, roles, and material possessions?

 

I met a gorgeous young lady recently, aged about 16, who was not only a truly lovely person, but she had a wonderful singing voice too. Afterwards, in conversation I said to Seanna about how blessed she was to have such a gift. I confessed that I mourned the lack of any such gift or talent. She replied “You do. You’re really good at reading people.” Her words stopped me in my tracks. She was right. I’d never really considered it before as a ‘gift’, only as a given. With radar-like vision, I see people because I look beyond the labels, badges, jobs, empires, wealth and all the other human-made plasters. I look into their heart, and perhaps even deeper than that.

 

 

Who are you?

How would you identify yourself if all these externals were taken away from you? I ask these questions not to be morbid or cruel or condescending, or even disrespectful of your life path and choices, but to encourage a deeper awareness of what creates a courageous life.

Who will miss you when you’re gone?

 

Why will they miss you?

 

It certainly won’t be because of your fancy clothes, expensive car or eye-watering mortgage, boob job or bikini wax. I doubt it’ll be because of your job title or manicured lawn or your business logo.

 

A life invested in mindful awareness of the sacred all around, and the offering of compassion, kindness and love, is one that not only contributes to our well-being, but it also leaves the world a better place.

 

Legacy isn’t about our constructions and empires and pursuits, it’s the feeling we leave in others when we’re gone. And this can only come from the heart.

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Bespoke or bespoke? Celebrant or Registrar?

With the rise of celebrant-led wedding ceremonies in England, and registrars now offering ‘bespoke’ ceremonies, it’s important for couples to understand the difference between when a celebrant creates a bespoke ceremony and when a registrar offers a bespoke ceremony. Let me say at the outset, they are nothing alike, though you may think for the £850 or so that a registrar may charge you’ll be getting something special.

Penelope and Freddie’s Askham Hall Wedding Ceremony. Photography by Hannah Hall.

As a celebrant, I spend an average of 20 hours per wedding couple. This includes getting to know them (face to face or by Skype, depending on if they’re in the country or not), truly understanding their beliefs about life and love and marriage, learning their love story as well as their hopes and dreams for married life, writing their ceremony script, meeting them at the venue before the wedding day, the day of the ceremony, spending hours rehearsing their ceremony so that it flows freely and is ‘off the page’ during the officiating, and travel time. The 20 to 30 minute ceremony I officiate on the day, rests on the foundation of a lot of unseen work.

Fiona and Paul’s Dutch-themed wedding ceremony at the beautiful Askham Hall, near Penrith, Cumbria.

Bespoke, to me, means that not only do I get to know the couple and build a meaningful relationship with them, but I write a script that is just for them. I am hugely invested in their wedding day, and this shows by the amount of time I spend per couple. In my work, the heart of their ceremony features their love story. Any rituals created are meaningful to them and their beliefs; they’re not simply space fillers or ‘off the shelf’. And just as importantly, I match my energy to theirs.

The gorgeous moment when the bride walks down the aisle.

A registrar doesn’t write a bespoke ceremony for the couple. End of. They use a templated script which was written by a colleague in the office (someone who won’t even meet the couple), and although it allows for the addition of a handfasting, possibly a quaich or sand-blending ceremony (even though registrars aren’t given professional training about handfastings or other rituals), the ritual scripts are templates. The couple must provide their own cord, cup or sand. To be clear, a registrar is not a specialist in rituals.

The bride’s Scottish grandmother offered her silver quaich (Scottish loving cup) for their ceremony at Askham Hall. Photo: Veronika Robinson

With a government ‘bespoke’ template, the couple may write their own vows, and choose readings and music. However, these MUST be approved by the registrar (how bespoke is that?) and must not contain any religious or spiritual elements. Interesting, really, that a handfasting would even be allowed (ditto humanists offering it) given that it has ancient pagan roots and is deeply spiritual.

Inconsistencies abound.

Today is the one-year anniversary of when I officiated Rene and Chantal’s ceremony in Outback Australia.

As an independent celebrant, bespoke to me means the ceremony I create is unique to the couple. If one of them is Catholic and the other Jewish, or maybe one is Pagan and one is atheist, then the ceremony will reflect their beliefs (not mine or that of a government employee). When two people come together, as one, their ceremony needs to accurately reflect this.

Rene and Chantal’s handfasting. Photo by Ben Broady.

A celebrant-led bespoke ceremony is not restricted by government guidelines. A registrar’s ‘bespoke’ ceremony is simply another template with space to pop in some vows written by the couple. There’s no crafting, beauty, care or true personalisation allowed. And there most certainly isn’t recognition or reflection that each human being has beliefs that are unique to them.

Michael and Victoria’s bohemian wedding

To be 100% clear, the registrar taking your ‘bespoke’ ceremony will not have written you a unique script. The words they say aren’t even ones they’ve written themselves. They are, essentially, ‘rent a gob’, to put it crudely. When a skilled celebrant crafts a script, it is done with awareness of pace, pitch and pause; not to mention beauty, flair and creativity. Their script will also accurately reflect their natural vocabulary and the words will flow easily.

Loz and Kate

My lovely couple, Loz and Katie, tied the knot by a waterfall in rural Yorkshire.

The registrar will not have spent hours and hours getting to know you. And they certainly won’t be available to wait around if there’s a delay to your ceremony start e.g. rain or bride held up or some other reason why things haven’t gone to plan. As a matter of course, I don’t book more than one wedding per day. My couples know, with complete certainty, that if there’s any hiccup that might cause a delay, that I am theirs for the day. A registrar, in most cases, has another ceremony to go to and won’t wait for long.

The use of the word ‘bespoke’ by the registration service is, at best, misleading, and at worst, demeaning. It shows a complete misunderstanding of what bespoke means, and short changes a couple of what could be a truly personalised ceremony.

Mike and Sara

Michael and Sara live in Australia. They chose Cumbria for their wedding ceremony. Such a special day!

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Celebrant Education Day in Cumbria

You are warmly invited to a celebrant education day for celebrants in the north of England and Southern Scotland.

 

 

 

Regardless of where we are in our celebrant career, ongoing development is essential for best practice. This education day, led by Veronika Robinson (President of the Association of Independent Celebrants), is suitable for celebrants at all levels and stages of their working life, including those just beginning. This day is based on practical and interactive workshops.

When: Sunday, 13th October, 2019

Time: 9.30 for a 10am start. Finishes at 5pm

Where: Wreay Village Hall, Chapel Hill, Wreay, CA4 0RG

(easy access from junction 42 of the M6 a few miles south of Carlisle, Cumbria)

(Free on-site parking and disabled access). Local accommodation, if required, is Premier Inn at junction 42 or the village campsite or local Air BnBs.

Fee: The education day fee is £20. This includes all the workshops, morning/afternoon tea, (hot/cold drinks all day) and a hot lunch. *The fee is non-refundable unless the event is cancelled by the organiser.

 

Space is available on a first-come first-served basis. To book your place, please email for a booking form veronikarobinson (at) hotmail (dot) com

 

 

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The Bookends of Marriage

 

All marriages end. Whether by death, divorce or old-fashioned neglect, the rose-hued dreams we had for Happily Ever After become eroded in the passage of time. To love is to risk. Who here hasn’t gambled on love? And if we knew that someday it all would end, would we have taken even a single step in the direction of our dreams?

 

We’re just walking through life, minding our own business (although, increasingly, people are actively searching for love online), when slap bang onto our path walks someone who turns our head. Kapow! Gotcha! Whatever direction it was we thought we were walking in, suddenly changes. Our worlds collide, and in time we’re setting up home or having babies or travelling the world together. One thing’s for sure: when ‘the one’ comes along, most of us will tilt our world sideways to ensure longevity. Compromise after compromise after compromise. Afterall, why wouldn’t we want that wonderful feeling of love to last forever? (well, whatever ‘forever’ actually means in mortal terms)

 

The wedding industry is huge. As a wedding celebrant, my focus is purely on the ceremony and what I can bring to help a couple set the scene for their vows, promises and pledges. I bring my whole heart to this role, and in that wholeheartedness my deepest wish is that their intentions come to fruition.

 

 

But what of those at the other end of marriage? Where is the ‘industry’ (apart from greedy lawyers and divorce courts) or support systems to cushion those who find themselves walking out the other end of marriage – alone – their dreams crushed into the dust? Where are all the well wishers then? Why isn’t there a support team to help you move along with the next chapter/s of your life? Because it’s not pretty, that’s why!

 

When someone is widowed, sure, there’s the funeral, but what of the support for the person who is now living without the daily companionship of their beloved? The bottom line is that there is no one to fill that void. The loss of that vitality and life force that their loved one brought into their lives is akin to an earthquake. The landscape is forever changed. There are support groups for widows and widowers, but it seems to me that, as a culture, we simply don’t have the cushioning needed for this bookend.

And then there are people like myself who, for whatever reason, come to the end of what may well have been a long and happy marriage, and then find themselves separating. Not only does a marital separation of the couple ‘least likely to split’ terrify your friends and have them running in the opposite direction in case it somehow illuminates the fault lines in their own marriage, it also leads to people assuming the one who did the leaving is ‘ok’. The one who is ‘left behind’ is to be pitied and rallied around. It’s not surprising, really, given the litigious culture we live in. We’re virtually raised on the blame game from the get go.

I can hand on heart say, from my own experience, that grieving for a person who is still alive is even more painful that grieving for someone who is dead.

 

 

As a woman, wife, mother and celebrant, I have done enormous soul searching over the past 20 or so months since that first moment I became aware of the inner turmoil looming within me. It’s torn my heart in half over and over. If my husband had been a bad person, or had done something wrong, maybe this path I’ve walked might have been easier. I don’t know. All I know is that I’d irrevocably changed following my dearest friend’s suicide on Christmas Day 2016.

To those who ‘gossip’ that I’m okay and looking good, here’s the truth: I’m not! I just have an ability to know what my needs are and how to tend to my wounds in silence. Solitude is my healer. It always has been.

 

As a celebrant, I’ve offered divorce ceremonies right from the outset. People used to laugh and think I did it for ‘repeat’ business. That one day my wedding clients would come to me to be undone. Nothing could be further from the truth.

I am a hopeless romantic (the unpublished romance novels on my laptop are proof enough of that), and do still dream of happily ever after, if not for me, then for every other person walking this earth with that longing. I’m also realistic and know that humans are deeply complex. My own evolution is also teaching me constantly, and as a result my work has to evolve alongside my personal life. In the past, I’ve always felt strongly that a divorce ceremony should involve both parties. I now see that a Parting of the Ways ritual shouldn’t be denied to someone because their ex-spouse isn’t willing to take part or has blanked them.

 

Forgiveness doesn’t require the other person’s permission. To forgive is to free ourselves.

I am so grateful for the 23 years of stability, kindness, love, laughter and care (and the awesome daughters we raised together) that I enjoyed in my relationship. At no level of my being do I see our parting as a failure, though that doesn’t stop the pain of separation. Honouring the change of nature in our relationship is something, that to my mind, doesn’t require a piece of paper from the government.

Into the depths of the woods I shall enter, and true to my nature as a solitary practitioner of healing, I will allow the wisdom and wonder of Mother Nature to be the altar upon which I heal this bone-deep loss. I trust in her to allow my ‘ceremony for one’ to bring both of us a soothing balm that will echo through time and space and love. And maybe, just maybe, my intentions for peace, love, harmony and forgiveness will heal others, too.

“When words are inadequate, have a ritual.”

 

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