Healing From Natural Disasters With Ritual

Sandra Alstrand

I have been told that I am being chased down by Mother Earth, as a result of the fact that I have lived through four different natural disasters: an earthquake, a firestorm, a hurricane and nearby lava flows. While living in the San Francisco Bay Area, I experienced the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake, and the following year, the Oakland firestorm. My husband and I moved to the island of Hawaii in 2002 and in 2014 experienced our first hurricane, Hurricane Iselle, the strongest tropical cyclone to make landfall on the island in recorded history. The next natural disaster was a lava eruption that threatened our nearby town of Pahoa in 2016, though lava stopped flowing before it reached the town. The final natural disaster was the 2018 Kilauea Lava Eruption that began on the evening of May 3^rd, 2018 and ended in August. In this article, I will discuss these events individually, their effects on my life, and how I cope with the aftermath of the trauma.

Vision of Humanity believes that the world has witnessed a tenfold increase in the number of natural disasters since the 1960’s, and in many instances their force has also notably increased (2020). We have seen more powerful earthquakes generating devastating tsunamis, and extreme hurricanes that have brought record destruction to vast areas of the world. Whatever the causes of global warming is, it is a reality and many are directly experiencing the results of its existence.

These catastrophic events can instill a sense of fear and unknowing that can manifest as generalized stress and disquiet. Macy states, “A dread of what is happening to our future stays on the fringes of awareness, too deep to name and too fearsome to face” (1981, p. 15). She speaks of the despair that we experience and how we need to validate our feelings in order to respond (1981). We must face the shadow side of life to find wholeness. Although never easy, it seems that we are being called to do so in our world today.

Personal Encounters with Mother Nature in her Destructive Aspect

When the Loma Prieta earthquake hit, I was alone in my office on the 7^th floor of an older building that housed Providence Hospital in Oakland. Having lived in California all of my life, I was no stranger to earthquakes, but instantly I knew this one was different. I ran to the doorway, as I had been taught all my life to do when an earthquake hits, and I still recall vividly those 15 seconds of violent shaking, even after 33 years. The first thought that entered my mind was that maybe this was the mythical earthquake that would cause California to break off of the continent and fall into the sea, even though I knew this was impossible. During those 15 seconds I looked into the lobby outside of my office, where there was a very large aquarium, filled with fish. I noticed that even though the water was splashing right and left out of the aquarium, the fish were calmly floating down to the bottom of the tank. My brief concern for them was unfounded as their instincts guided them, but I found the scene quite fascinating. It may have distracted me from the terror of my own possible death.

When the shaking stopped, I decided to make my way down the stairs to the switchboard where I might be able to help. After a couple of hours, I decided to try to make my way home. Driving home was a surreal journey, trying to find roads that were open, driving by buildings that had been destroyed, with bricks and rubble lying in the roadway. Making it home, I found that my house and my family’s homes were undamaged, and together we began our journey, still in shock over what had taken place. Over the next months, bridges and roadways were rebuilt, and our lives began to return to some normalcy. What kept us going was any routine that we could follow: going back to work, listening to the same radio station on the way, grocery shopping together, getting together for meals and conversation. Our everyday rituals helped us to find stability, healing and to make some sense of our lives again.

In early fall of 1999, I went on a vision quest on the southern rim of Death Valley in California. Spending five days and nights alone in the desert, with only water to drink, was both humbling and empowering. My fellow questers and I learned from the earth how to be still and listen. Each day was a ritual in living in harmony with and honoring the amazing desert, where plants, animals and insects live in balance in extreme heat in the summer and cold and snow in the winter. When we left the desert, we made every attempt to leave a minimal footprint.

Sadly, in our modern consciousness, all too often we do not feel the earth under our feet, see the millions of celestial beings in the sky at night, or hear the sounds of nature surrounding us. The night sky is invisible due to the city lights, and the sounds of even the birds are obliterated by traffic and urban noise. This disconnect has an effect on our bodies and souls because we are intrinsically connected to the earth, whether we realize it or not. Many in the industrialized nations are feeling a restlessness and there is an increase in depression and anxiety due to this disconnect.

In the early 1990s, ecopsychology emerged in response to our collective disconnection from the environment. Ecotherapy, also called “green therapy” and “earth-centered therapy” by one of the pioneers in the field, Howard Clinebell, “refers to healing and growth nurtured by healthy interaction with the earth” (2009). Practitioners in this field work with the body and the mind, and address the fact that we are not only intimately connected with nature, but embedded in and inseparable from Her, knowing that what happens to nature impacts people. The natural world provides important surrounding context when diagnosing and treating clients. For example, Ralph Metzner, a psychologist and founder of the Green Ear Foundation, often recommended a guided vision quest to clients facing major life transitions. In some native American traditions, rites of passage are observed in which young men are sent into the wilderness alone for several days and while fasting, praying for a vision to guide their lives. (2009, p. 261). Metzner states, “the intention behind such rituals is to connect with the inner wisdom and spiritual guidance, particularly through a deepened connection with the natural world” (p.262). He further states that, “By being alone for a few days and nights in the wilderness, completely separated from the demands and obligations of everyday life, many people find a deeply healing and empowering reconnection to both nature and spirit.” (p.261)/

I believe this experience helped to prepare me for the next event in my life. When returning home from the Vision Quest in southern California, we began to smell and see a lot of smoke and many fire vehicles as we approached the San Francisco Bay Area. Tuning into the local radio station on the car radio, we discovered that a fire storm was raging in the Oakland Hills, uncontrolled and spreading rapidly. Since I worked at the local hospital, upon arriving home I called to see if they needed my help and was told to return to work the next day. Fortunately, while this disaster did not impact my home of my property, it did impact many lives in the circle of my clients and friends. The enormity of the devastation and loss of homes, animals and land was felt in our communities and on my job. Events like these are poignant reminders of our interconnectedness: feelings of empathy and despair are palpable all around. At this time, I was engaged to my current husband, and his love and the expectation of a new life together helped me to rise above this disaster.

Hurricane Iselle was the opposite of the Loma Prieta earthquake in terms of the speed of its strike. While an earthquake strikes suddenly and ends in seconds, hurricanes are often anticipated for days, and may hover and linger. While the experts who track hurricanes are quite accurate in their predictions, here in Hawaii there is always some uncertainty if one will reach landfall or not. Iselle was the first to make landfall in the history of our island. For days we were told to prepare for the worst and then finally, as she grew stronger and closer, we knew that there was a very real chance that we would be affected.

On the afternoon of August 8^th, 2014, my husband and I sat on our front lanai, feeling the breezes and waiting. By nightfall the weather was still quite calm, until we began to hear the trees being pushed by much stronger winds. The winds became stronger yet were eerily cyclical, alternating between periods of hearing the long-sustained winds, followed by very little at all. By midnight, the rain was loud and steady and the wind was ripping limbs off of trees all around us. It was the most terrifying night that I ever experienced. I feared that a tree would fall on our house, possibly injuring or killing us and our pets. It seemed to last for hours before finally weakening and stopping altogether. In the morning that followed, we emerged from our home and found that there were large downed trees and branches surrounding our home. Miraculously, we had no damage to the house structure.

Although I was in shock and quite dazed, I felt grief for all of the beloved trees, now reduced to rubble. It took me years to finally overcome the trauma experienced from this disaster. Not realizing that I had Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome, I could no longer cry and life seemed gray and dead. As long as I was busy, it was ok not to feel the emptiness. Gradually I started to feel like I was emerging from that cave of darkness, but not until five years later, following a ritual experience, was I finally able to fully release the sadness and traumatic feelings.

It didn’t take long for Mother Earth to send another wake-up call, another brand-new encounter with the elemental power of nature. Hawaii is an island with four active volcanos. While there are risks of natural disasters in almost any place in the world, we might as well live in a beautiful, spiritual place that incidentally includes the possibility of lava destroying your home. In 2016, this seemingly remote possibility became a reality, as we tasted what it is like to live near an active volcano.

Kilauea is the most active volcano on the island, creating vents where lava bubble up from below and flows freely for various periods of time. In 2016, a few vents were opening up, and one in particular directed its flow towards the town of Pahoa, about 7 miles from our home. This was a relatively slow-moving lava flow and the Hawaii Observatories, who closely monitor the flows and lava activity on the island, and our County Civil Defense, were speculating whether the flow could possibly go through the town and then over the main, and only, highway out of the area, to continue its path downward towards the ocean. For over a month, we watched as the lava crept closer to the town. There were weekly town meetings with the mayor, civil defense personnel and volcano experts, giving us their best guesses about whether or not our area was safe. Finally, the lava advanced towards the local transfer station, five miles from our home, went about a foot through the fence, and stopped. It seemed the flow was no longer a threat to the town or the road. Everyone breathed a long sigh of relief. During this possible emergency, I never believed that the lava would reach the town, the road or our subdivision. I knew, on some level, that we were safe and did not succumb to the worry surrounding us. Perhaps I was in touch with the earth or Madame Pele, giving rise to a centered, calm feeling that kept me going through the event.

We enjoyed two years of relative calm until the most spectacular, awe inspiring, although frightening, devastating, and sorrowful event occurred in 2018. In April of the year, there was again a lot of activity below the surface of Kilauea, and Pu’u’O’o, a large cone that is fed by Kilauea. The residents of a subdivision on the rift zone of the volcano called Leilani Estates, began to have daily tremors and small earthquakes at measured intervals during the day and night. These quakes began to increase in intensity, and on the night of May 3^rd, large fissures began opening up on some of the streets of the subdivision, spewing fountains of lava into the air. Residents were evacuated and the lava continued to flow, with large cinder cones being created which would spew more lava and create flows moving in different directions. Soon the lava was moving towards other communities, spreading out and consuming everything in its path.

Our subdivision is two miles from the flow and at times we could hear the churning of the lava, sounding like a huge machinery barreling through the land in the distance. Every night our sky was red from the glow of the lava on the clouds. It was like we had been relocated to another planet. This forward march through the land, ending finally at the sea, lasted from May to August and in the end 700 homes were destroyed. As heartbreaking as that was for the residents, the force of the lava vaporized Green Lake, a beautiful crater that held a lake surrounded by trees and vegetation; acres and acres of beautiful land, was now covered by lava; the most devastating was our sacred warm pond and the tide pools that held corals, sea turtles and many beautiful fish. The whole community wept when these beloved areas were taken. Even after four years, as I write these words, I am filled with sorrow, still mourning the loss of those lovely areas. Some communities still have no direct access to their land that was not destroyed but cut off by the lava. We recovered in many ways by coming together as a community and working together to begin the healing process.

Earth Based Rituals

Rituals have been used by many cultures throughout the ages to stay connected with the earth and maintain balance and harmony with their environments. Swimme and Berry (1994) talk about the connectedness of humans in the past and our mutual dependence upon each other and our environment. “This intimacy of relatedness extended beyond living world to the various natural phenomena whereby the universe functions, especially to the sequence of the seasons, to the rain and the wind, to the thunder and lightning and surging of the sea, to the stars and all the other heavenly beings.” (Swimme and Berry, 1992, p. 244-245).

Calendrical rituals, one type of earth-based ritual, “give socially meaningful definitions to the passage of time, creating an ever-renewing cycle of days, months, and years” (Bell, 1997, p.102). Being in tune with the seasonal changes of nature helps to “synchronize oneself individually and communally with these cosmic patterns of change” (Jaenke, 2018). Bell explains that these rituals can be distinguished by seasonal and commemorative celebrations and historically are associated with planting and harvesting. (1997, p. 103). Offerings to the gods are given during the sowing of seeds to secure protection for the fields during harvesting, more offerings of the fruits of the harvest are offered and festivals are held where music, dance and feasting are enjoyed. These rituals were performed by my pagan ancestors in Scotland and France, and strongly resonate with my spirit today.

Some cultures still actively perform earth-based rituals. These cultures view ritual as an integral part of their lives and turn to ritual for physical, emotional and spiritual healing. Rituals can help restore balance in individuals and communities. Today the reclaiming of ritual provides a way to further our reconnection to the earth and heal our bodies, minds and spirits. Earth-based or Earth Honoring rituals can be truly transforming experiences. In our times of ecological imbalance with an increase in natural disasters, earth-based rituals can act as a balm to wounded souls and to our wounded earth. The widespread sense of restlessness and a sense, often of unknown origin, of being disconnected, can be addressed through earth honoring rituals, which aid in restoring a sense of connection to place.

The early inhabitants of the British Isles were very attuned to the lands, the changing of the seasons and the sky. In order to survive, they had to know when to plant the seeds that would feed them throughout the year and when to reap the harvest. The pre-Christian British, or Celts, were called Pagans, meaning “villager” or “rustic”, by the invading Christians. They were a polytheistic people and worshipped specific gods and goddesses, who ruled over the elements and the seasons. The Celts would mark the beginnings and ends of the seasons with rituals to the earth. They organized their lives around four sacred festivals, which are celebrated throughout the world today (Rabey, 1998, p. 73). The Celtic New Year is Samhain, and is celebrated on November 1^st. This signaled the end of one agricultural year and the beginning of the next. Where modern western people might view winter as a time of limited activity, “the Celts, attuned to the invisible work of nature that continued under the surface calm, knew the seeds from the next year’s crops were busy germinating” (Rabey, 1998, p. 73).

The next festival was Imbolc, celebrated on February 1^st, when the days were beginning to get longer and the end of winter was in sight. This was a time to banish winter and prepare for the arrival of spring (Rabey, 1998, p. 75). Beltane, celebrated on May 1^st was a joyous festival, celebrating the beginning of spring. People and animals were now able to spend more time outdoors in nature, and celebrations would include exuberant dancing and singing. At night a large ceremonial bonfire was lit on a hilltop to banish winter (1998, p. 76). The final festival is Lughnasadh, observed on August 1^st, celebrating the first grain harvest. Rabey states, “these pagan festivals were important rituals for the ancient Celts, calibrating their lives to the cycles of nature and the workings of the supernatural through the changing of seasons and the tides of want and plenty” (1998, p. 78). My ancestry is predominantly Western European, with DNA testing revealing that most of my ancestors were Scottish, British and French. I have been drawn to the Celtic and Pagan style rituals throughout my life and now understand that my roots go deep into those traditions.

Rituals to Heal from Natural Disasters

For the many who love this planet and call Her home, there is a feeling of urgency today. The continuing destruction of the rain forests, pollution of our land, air and seas, and global warming are extremely disturbing issues that can evoke acute anxiety and despair. This can lead both to a feeling of apathy or numbness, or a restlessness to action, to make a difference and help in any way possible. One powerful way to counter our apathy is to perform earth healing rituals.

A special case of earth-based rituals, increasingly relevant in our ecologically-challenged times, are earth rituals to heal from natural disasters. The authors of the book Mass Trauma and Emotional Healing Around the World: Ritual and Practices for Resilience and Meaning-Making, (2009), Ani Kalayjian and Dominique Eugene participated in community building after natural disasters with communities around the world. A multi-discipline group used rituals from different cultural, religious and spiritual traditions. Their premise that humans have a universal reaction to trauma, and that by coming together in community we can heal together and help future generations to cope with upcoming disasters.

In the article, “Shinto Ritual Practices in Miyagi Prefecture after the great East Japan Earthquake – The Case of the Ogatsu Hoin Kagura” (2016), Susanne Klein discusses the importance of traditional ritual in Japan. The kagura is a ritual that incorporates music, dance and theater, in preparation for the coming of the kami, which are deities. The importance of the kagura was demonstrated after the earthquake and tsunami in March of 2011, which was devastating for many of the members of the troupe who carry out the ritual. They lost their masks and costumes and the location where they practiced, yet they performed the ritual for the people after the great devastation of their land. The ritual kept alive the memories of the deceased which also helped make the living feel contextualized and reassured in the times of transition after the disaster.

In 2019, I was engaged in my final research project to complete my master’s degree. The question I addressed was “How can we heal from natural disasters using ritual?” I used the qualitative method of participatory action research where all participants are co-creators of the research process (rather than a traditional model in which subjects are studied by the researcher). Six individuals, including myself, who had experienced two of the natural disasters discussed above, in Pahoa, were the participants. We met for six sessions and used dream work, story writing and dialogue to prepare for the ritual, performed at the fifth session. The findings of the project were profound for each participant and the ritual was integral to this result.

The group of individuals in Hawaii had lived through the hurricane in 2014 and the destructive lava flow in 2018. Six of us lived in the area of East Hawaii where Hurricane Iselle struck land, bringing with her strong winds and torrential rain. Many were without power for weeks thereafter. Four years later, Madame Pele awoke from her home in Kilauea Crater, close to the same area where Iselle landed.

One of the participants who participated in my research project lost her home and some of her cats. Another couple had extensive damage to their home, which was also surrounded by lava vents, and could no longer live there. The other three did not lose their homes yet lost many friends who could no longer stay on the island. All of us lost the amazing beauty of the area now covered under lava. We were all grieving and experiencing varying degrees of trauma, manifesting in depression, anger and apathy. Herman describes this psychological trauma as “an affliction of the powerless” and that “traumatic events overwhelm the ordinary systems of care that give people a sense of control, connection, and meaning” (1992, p. 33).

The fundamental inquiry of my research project was to determine whether we can heal spiritually from the trauma of natural disasters through the use of ritual. All six survivors fully embraced the study and participated with enthusiasm and anticipation. In the narrative recounting, pseudonyms are used instead of their real names. We prepared to perform a ritual on the land, to help us to come to terms with our feeling of loss, and the fear and anger we harbored toward the elements and the earth herself.

For the ritual, we decided to each bring a meaningfully chosen offering to place on the altar. A sacred space was located on the land of one of the participants, next to a steam vent, allowing us to remain in continuous contact with the same elemental earth energies that exploded from the fire in the belly of the earth.

We gathered our offerings and walked together to the sacred space. The evening was cool and still. We placed four cinderblocks in a square on the earth and proceeded to set up the altar. We draped colorful scarves around the cinderblocks, leaving the center open. We placed four candles on the four corners of the altar and one tall white candle in the center. We lit the candles, one by one and invited the four elements, fire, water, air and earth to join us.

I then led us in a meditation, where we grounded and attuned ourselves to the earth and to the sky, becoming aware of our bodies on the earth and feeling the temperature of the air on our skin. We invited all the elements and our ancestors to join our ritual. Next, each participant placed their offering on the altar. Barbara placed a red candle and piece of lava to represent the fire and lava. Paul placed a flower, representing a perfect example of nature and how it expresses itself with ease. Edward placed a brass elephant, his symbol of strength. James’ offering was a big, red heart shaped anthurium flower and an oil palm seed, representing the first plants that they had planted on their land when they had first moved there. The oil palm seed also represents endurance, as the seeds require one to three years to germinate, and the oil was valued and used in multiple ways by Native Hawaiians. Thus, the value of endurance and sustenance were offered by James. Beverly placed a candle to represent hope. My offering was a skull of a pig that I had befriended who frequented an area near my home. She had three piglets. One day I found out that someone had killed her and left her remains in a ditch. I retrieved her skull in order to honor her in some way. My offering sought to honor Mother Earth and Mama Pig, and what she suffered at the hands of humans, as well as the loss of life of animals in the lava event.

We then each individually spoke directly to the earth, expressing how we were affected by the hurricane and the lava eruptions. Each participant spoke sincerely and passionately about their experience. Beverly, Barbara and I spoke of our fear during the events and our sorrow for the loss of our friends, animals, and the beautiful places that were gone forever. James spoke of his anger and frustration with those who violated his privacy and the peacefulness of his home. Paul related his fear that was mixed with wonder for the beauty and power of the lava. After each person had spoken their truth, pictures of Kapoho Bay before and after the lava, one of the red sky and one of flooding from the hurricane, were burned by Beverly at the altar. Edward burned the papers on which he had expressed his grief. While the items were burned, we all stated how we were feeling. We were feeling calm, lighter, and grateful for each other, the earth and our lives. We were ready to conclude the ritual. We thanked the elements, the ancestors and anyone else who had joined us and Mother Earth, and closed the circle. We then went back inside and shared a meal together.

This ritual had a profound effect on the participants and helped to close some of the emotional and spiritual wounds that had opened as a result of the natural disasters. Beverly was having financial and physical difficulties before the ritual. The week after, she received news that her biopsy was negative, and she also had received funding to help her financial situation. Edward and James felt at peace about leaving their lovely home to start a new life with family in Alaska. Barbara was engaging with people more and being kinder and more attentive to her neighbors. In turn, I experienced an opening up of my feelings and a solid reconnection with the earth that I had not felt since the events in 2014. It was like a veil had lifted and all of my senses had returned. We had all gained a new sense of hope for the future.

To recap, the process of finding healing through ritual in nature is elegantly expressed by Ayot, who chronicles his journey of reconnecting with his lost childhood home and finding healing through ritual in nature:

By putting ourselves in proximity to nature and actually addressing it, we engage. In engaging we begin to feel a kinship, and at that point we begin to re-consecrate what we are addressing. The planet and its denizens are made holy again (2016, p. 170).

If we are able to make our disaster torn lives holy again and to rekindle that kinship with nature through ritual, we may be discovering the building blocks to restore a sacred and honoring relationship with our planet.

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References

Ayot, W. (2016) Re-enchanting the forest: Meaningful ritual in a secular world. Mathern, Chepstow, Monmouthshire: Sleeping Mountain Press.

Bell, C. (1997). Ritual: Perspective and dimensions. New York, NY: Oxford University Press.

Boyce, Barry (Wheatley, M) Complexity Chaos Collapse Community Creativity Compassion Why WE Need New Ways of Thinking. (2008) Shambhala Sun September 2008

Buzzell & Chalquist, (ed.) (2009). Ecotherapy: Healing with nature in mind. San Francisco, CA: Sierra Club Books.

Herman, J. (1992). Trauma and Recovery: The aftermath of violence – from domestic abuse to political terror. New York, New York: Basic Books.

Staff Writers, (202) Institute for Economics & Peace. Ecological threat Register 2020: Understanding Ecological Threats, Resilience and Peace, Sydney, September 2020. from:http://visionofhumanity.org/reports

Jaenke, K. (2019). Retrieved from Consciousness & Transformative Studies, CNS 5832 Body, Mind, Spirit, John F. Kennedy University, from: https://nu.blackboard.com/webapps/blackboard/content/listContent.isp?course_id=93198_1&content_id=6992152_1&mode=reset

Macy, J. (1981). Chapter 2: Despairwork (Abr. Ed). Pp.15. Philadelphia, New Society Publishers.

Swimme, Brian and Berry, Thomas. (1992.) The Universe Story. San Francisco, CA: HarperSanFrancisco.