Tiana McGuire
Slave to the Needle (counterstaff)
Seattle, WA
How can I tell this story?
It was almost two years ago that I had my first lip sewing experience. (I had my lips sutured together for a period of approximately ten hours.) As I live in Seattle, and my family is in Los Angeles, I took pictures to share my experience with them and others I held dear. It wasn't long before I received a phone call from my sister letting me know that, upon seeing these pictures my father had become distressed and had begun to cry. He saw the images as his daughter hurting herself and in pain. I called him, and in a lengthy conversation explained how the whole process was something very positive for me and that he should be celebrating my accomplishment and not hurt by my actions. Progress was made, but I could tell that my father didn't quite "get it."
After my fathers reaction to my lip sewing--being so hurt and negative--I felt that I couldn't go through a greater ordeal without first really trying to facilitate a fuller understanding to my family so they would able to comprehend and celebrate my experiences
There are experiences and reasons that cannot be explained with pictures or with words traded over the phone. I believe that a person must experience some practices with all their senses to fully grasp their magnitude and greatness.
I first heard about the ONE Project at the APP Conference this last May, at a round table discussion on modern ritual. I was taken by the concept of industry professionals taking time to perform and participate in these rituals as a focused and intentional community. And as the event took place in southern California, I began to consider participating, and also asking my father to accompany me. I thought it could be just the opportunity we needed to facilitate a new level of understanding of each other.
In July, I invited Chuck to accompany me to The ONE Project and he agreed. I flew from Seattle to LA so that He and I would have the drive down to San Diego and back to discuss the events. My Father wanted to know what to expect at the festival, and I had no definitive answers for him. We both were going into a new and unknown space.
Jumping ahead (or back).
In order for me to talk about my experience at ONE, I should share some of my past to give it context. I was born and raised Mormon. When I was twelve my father split from the church and divorced my mother. From then until I was seventeen, I was raised in both households, with two polar approaches to thinking, living, spirituality, and so on. My father began embracing a more nature-based spirituality. He made dream catchers, and taught us about them. He put together his own medicine bag and carved a bear totem out of stone he had chanced upon in his journeys. Talking to him and observing him create his own sacred objects, and designing his own spirituality was a lesson that I took with me as I grew.
Through my own path I have learned that personal rituals and rites are very powerful and productive for me. There are some that I do annually and many others are created as I feel they are needed. I have learned that ordeal rituals are the most powerful for myself. This led me to having my lips sewn, as well as seeking out the needed environment to have my first suspension experience. It also led me to The ONE Project.
Back to the story.
Two days before leaving for ONE, I received a phone call from my sister: She wanted to check in with me about taking Chuck. "Don't do too much," she cautioned me. "Keep your feet on the ground. Don't break dad." This conversation led me to realize that I had no doubts, until then, about Chuck's ability to the process the events of ONE. I had intended a deep resolution without considering the fact that Chuck may sink instead of swim. I resolved to be conscientious and keep checking-in with my dad about his processing status.
As we drew closer to Madre Grande, anticipation and social anxiety started to set in. I kept thinking about a weekend music festival I once attended where my partner and I were the only people there who were not performers or organizers of the event. We ended up camping away from the rest of the people and having a very isolating experience. I began fearing a similar situation, where we would default into the role of observers instead of active participants. I was especially anxious since the group was to be comprised of piercers and industry people. I only work counter at a shop (with prospects of an apprenticeship in piercing) and my father has only one piercing (and no tattoos at all).
We finally arrived at the monastery and parked the car. I squelched my anxieties and my father and I walked over to a group of tents being set up. There were drums playing as we filled out the release of liability forms and got a first clue about things to come: fire walking, sweat lodges, suspension, rebar bending, REBAR BENDING?!?! I had images of pro wrestler types twisting metal and ripping phone books swarm through my mind. I had no idea what any of this was going to look like.
With that finished, we were enthusiastically greeted by other attendees. We quickly found that the community was already abuzz about the "father/daughter" couple that would be participating. I expected this attention least of all. We were admonished to camp near to others to keep the community energy going. We camped under a tree near where some people had hung a Jolly Roger. We felt that we would fit right in at a pirate camp.
At ONE, my father was immediately embraced and revered by the community. It was remarkable to see the appreciation of an elder, something that isn't seen often in the mass culture. Being the amazingly social animal he is, Chuck began connecting with every person he spoke with. The community embraced him, and he embraced them back. He was committed to experiencing and learning about the rituals there, and would make participating decisions on an individual event basis.
After setting up camp the whole group met at the grove, where we were smudged as we entered the sacred space. Each person added to a community altar and a circle was called. For this, everyone was seated with my father and I to Corey's right. She asked that we go around the circle, introduce ourselves, and state our intention for the festival. There is power in acclamations, and I was terrified of allowing these people I didn't know the intimate knowledge of what I wanted to work on at ONE. Corey started, and then the circle continued to her left--this meant we would be last. More time for my anxiety and dread to build. In whispers Chuck and I decided that I should state my intent first, and he would follow since he would not have been there if not for me. I don't remember exactly what I said, but I believe it boiled down to this: My intention was twofold. I wanted to embrace a community in my spirituality and not be locked into the singularly independent and mundane mode of thought that I found myself to be in. Secondly, I wanted my father to be happy about my accomplishments and to support/ embrace my way of knowing as being an integral part of who I am. It was a very intense moment for me, putting everything on the table. Trying to find words that would make clear the feelings I had burning deep inside. I was genuine and non-withholding and I was proud that I did it. This was the most difficult part of the whole ONE experience for me.
People started coming up to me after the initial gathering at the grove. They thanked me for being there and for bringing my father, for sharing my intent, and said that my father was amazing for just showing up, if nothing else. I was amazed at the impact that something I felt was so personal and specific to myself was having on the community. Learning to look beyond the individual process to the effect on others was what I came to ONE for, and it was happening! I am not just a lone automaton, cogging out an existence, spinning in the machine works of society without moving anything. I was able to see clearly how the movements I make in my decisions, actions, words all move not only within my circle of family but also to those at ONE, and (in writing this) to the piercing community at large. It is quite a bit to take in.
The sweat lodge was our first ritual. As it is the practice to segregate by sex, I parted ways with my father as we lined up to go in. Inside the lodge it was thick with darkness, heat, bodies, energy, voices, and steam. I felt as though the physical barriers between individuals were stripped away in that place and we were working together as parts of a great whole. As the sweat drenched my skin I felt purified of the mundane, of life back in Seattle. Inside the lodge I was recreated as a tabula rasa, a clean slate. I had cleared away space for the changes that would come in the next days. When I exited the lodge I found my father waiting for me. He gave me a big (and exceptionally sweaty, on my part) hug and congratulated me on making it through the ceremony. He explained that he had to exit the lodge after the second door.
The experiences I had on the second day acted to pull in the sense of community that was initiated on the first day. I felt more comfortable approaching and talking to other people, as they did talking to me, social anxiety be damned. We shared meals and conversations with the community. I discussed with Ed, one of the attendees, that I was interested in suspending. I then discovered that he was one of the people moderating that portion of the festival, and he said it could happen. My heart leapt with delight. I hadn't assumed that my suspension would happen, so to have given that OK made it real for me.
After the morning meditation on the third day, my father approached me and let me know that he "got it" and that he would he be honored to watch me suspend. He continued to say that he would be even more honored if I would let him work the rope and pull me up. I was floored! I knew he would get it, and in seeing him achieve that understanding I was rejoicing. But in true Chuck form (and being the exceptional human being he is) he surpassed even my expectations. I soon discovered he had more to show as well.
Tomma announced that there was going to be an energy pull before the suspensions began. They requested that all would participate as well as having hooks thrown in the chest--to physically connect the tribe from the heart. I decided that I would pull from my elbows and I invited my father to join. Being pierced was not something my father had intended earlier in that day. He said he would process it for a bit, and then returned about fifteen minutes later informing me that he had asked Ed if he would pierce him/us for the pull.
Watching the calm come over my father as Ed prepped him for the piercing was beautiful to see. And with several deep breaths my father had two hooks seated in the middle of his chest. Then it was my turn and Ed placed a hook in each of my elbows.
As we walked over to be roped into the hub we decided that it would be nice if we were across the way from each other so that we could have direct line of site to support, and witness the experience together. I have never been a part of such a large and dynamic pull before. The music played as everyone added his or her weight against the hooks. In the center of the pull Alicia asked to permission to do a ritual cutting on Phillip. They were welcomed into the space and as they drew upon the sacred energy of the pull, so too their energy was added.
Not only had Chuck "gotten it" he was in it and experiencing everything first hand. I observed him reach a point of such intensity that he cried out as the experience filled him. I am touched that he could add his energy so directly into that of the one tribe. He loved everyone there, and loved being in the pull directly linked to each other. It became more than an experience of Chuck and Tiana, or Tiana and Chuck, father to daughter and daughter to father and daughters and sons. He took on the archetypal parental form and embraced the tribe as his children, teachers, peers and compatriots.
For me my suspension was about liminal space. I chose to go up in a ten-point Coma-style suspension, parallel between earth and sky. I was held by a tree, which reaches itself both deep into the ground and far into the heavens. As the sun began its decent behind the hills of Madre Grande my body began its accent. There was a group of drummers in the center of the grove and their beat serenaded my experience. Ed again honored me by performing the piercing for my suspension and he, along with Christopher Michael rigged me--and my father held the rope.
The trust and love and excitement I felt as my father began raising me up by hooks is beyond my ability to explain. Slowly slowly slowly until I let him know I was ready, he hoisted me fully clear off the ground. With a whoop, my comrades celebrated my arrival into full suspension. The drums played on, and I felt as though I was not only being held up by the hooks in my flesh, but by all of the positive intention of the people around me. Time stood still.
I was being rocked, swung gently side to side--and then I realized my dad was playing with me, like when I was younger and he was pushing me on the swing set. Higher and higher he would go, then I would ask for an underdog, where he would hold onto the back of the swing and run with it until it lifted over his head as he ran underneath. Giggling, I would swing down, going higher and faster than possible with just his pushing alone. Chuck actually asked if I wanted an underdog. I laughed; he was in the same place thinking the same thoughts as I was. How absolutely magical. As I was in a much more relaxed than playful place, I declined the underdog. But the offer meant so much to me and was appreciated. Held there in the air I felt the most relaxed, loved and honored in my own body as I have ever as I watched the sun set behind the hills. I felt as though I could have hung there for days.
But as my stomach began to distract me with protest of not being fed nearly enough, and I decided it was best to choose when to come down than to push myself till my body could no longer stay up. My father had traveled with me on a long ordeal that day and I decided that choosing my ending was the ending that I desired. And so I told him it was time to come down and slowly slowly slowly my father lowered me into the arms of my mother earth and it felt as if the ground opened up and around me and caressed my entire form as I returned again to the earth.
I was so full of sensation from the event that when my dad came over to touch me I wasn’t ready for another person to be in my space yet. I let him know that I needed a little time and he understood and respected my request. I went over to the aftercare table with Ed and he pulled out my hooks and worked out any air bubbles the bandaged me up. I pulled on more clothes, then went and had the most satisfying slice of watermelon ever.
I imagine I gave my dad a big hug and gave Ed a big hug, but at this point I can’t recall. I felt uniquely human, invigorated, alive, loved, respected, understood, celebrated, and exhausted.
My father and I had entered the ordeal on two different planes, but with a common intention. Through the work, experiences and belief in each other and infinite potential, we came to walk the path of the final ordeal together, in stride and in the same space. A month later I am still decompressing from the experience. I am still in close contact with Ed as well as my father. The experience drew all of us closer together in support of what we did, and that has changed and will change where we are.
I love you Chuck. You're an amazing father and individual. Your ability to stay flexible, and your continual commitment to learn and grow and love and comprehend has touched more than just myself.
