Sacred Borders
Turner (1979) argues that rituals are encompassed by sacred boundaries, where what lies within the boundary is sacred while what lies outside it is profane.
I need to begin by acknowledging that I find it difficult to take a definitive position on this issue, because reading Turner has led me to begin recalibrating my understanding of the distinction between the sacred and the profane. If someone had asked me a year ago, I definitely would not have agreed with Turner. At first, I did not even call it ritual – my spiritual practice was simply something I fit into everyday life here and there. Even now, my practice is to some extent integrated into daily life, such as a brief meditation on the bus, grounding and centering while standing in line, a spontaneous dance while cooking, or a conversation with Loki during a walk. In those situations, I draw no clear boundaries.
However, when it comes to more formally designated rituals, I have increasingly begun to lean toward agreeing with Turner, and this was certainly not obvious to me before I read his texts on liminality. In retrospect, I now realize that I was drawing boundaries. I set a starting time and an ending time, I changed aspects of my surroundings by lighting candles or playing specific music, and I consciously decided that “now this is ritual.” Yet I had not previously seen the need for a more conscious form of boundary-making. I now understand that I can actively use boundary-setting as a helpful tool – precisely because it becomes easier to shift perspective when one steps outside ordinary life and observes it from the outside rather than remaining immersed within it.
When I read Turner’s texts as part of this course, I was scheduled to attend a communal blot the following day. As in many other heathen communities, many people choose to wear Iron Age-inspired clothing during blot rituals, but I had always resisted this because it felt to me like playing dress-up or acting in a play. I had always worn my ordinary clothes instead. However, Turner’s text made me reconsider this – it might not be costume at all, but rather ritual clothing. It was as though I could feel the gears in my mind shifting in real time, and I immediately wanted to experiment with the idea. Unfortunately, realizing this the day before the blot was not exactly ideal timing, but I managed to find some clothes that roughly resembled Iron Age-inspired ritual clothing. The result was unfortunately not very successful at that moment, because it was my first time, the ritual clothing was an improvised solution, and I felt very self-conscious and as though I were in costume rather than in a liminal state of mind. That in itself became a lesson: boundaries alone are not enough; it also helps when they are in harmony with one’s inner state.
Nevertheless, my new perspective remains, and I have now begun investing in ritual clothing that I feel more comfortable wearing. This leads me to the question of what purpose these boundaries serve. I experience boundaries – such as special clothing in my example – as something that can help disconnect from everyday life for a while and allow complete focus on the ritual itself. Even though spirituality can still be integrated into everyday life, and I appreciate when the two sometimes blend together, I nevertheless believe it is important for me to also have designated space for spirituality in which I can fully disconnect from ordinary life. In those moments, I do not need to be my profession or my profane self; instead, I can fully immerse myself in being a heathen and a Lokean. This is how my conclusions resonate with my own practice, and I arrived at them through experience and by allowing my previous assumptions to be challenged.
Sources
Turner, V.W. (1979) ‘Frame, Flow and Reflection: Ritual and Drama as Public Liminality’, Japanese Journal of Religious Studies, 6(4), pp. 465–499.