(no subject)
I'm facing ordeal again in a couple of months, and as you'd expect it is on my mind to an increasing degree as the time gets closer. To help me process, I've been writing about ordeal work: what it is, what it's not, why do it (and why not). Maybe clear up a few common misconceptions.
Firstly, what is ordeal? Ordeal can be many things. Work involving pain or other physical stressors is not necessarily ordeal, and ordeal work does not necessarily involve physical stressors. My personal working definition would look something like: “a transformatory experience involving heavy stressors, physical, emotional, or psychological, such as to take the subject out of their normal consciousness for the purposes of spiritual or personal development.” Another important-nay vital-component of ordeal proper would be the possibility of failure: the chance that one might not be able to complete the working as planned, or might suffer some form of lasting harm in attempting to complete it, or simply be emotionally unable to proceed.
Physical ordeal rituals are NOT an integral part of heathen worship. This should be made very clear. Although ordeal work as a valid part of Northern tradition practice can be supported from lore, it is a fringe activity and not a part of mainstream heathen practice.
Some misconceptions
The first misconception I'd like to address is the idea that I go about engaging in scary hurty ritual as a regular thing, or that it's the most important part of my devotional work. I don't, and it isn't. The most important parts of devotional work, in my opinion, are the quiet parts-- the daily prayer on rising, the moments of reflection, the practice of looking for the Gods and wights in all things around you as you go about your day. The small sacrifices of time and attention; the larger sacrifices of making good choices about your life even when they are hard choices too. That is devotion. It is not flashy, it is not what is considered notable, and it is terribly, terribly precious. Without a solid devotional practice underpinning it, an ordeal working would be meaningless; think of a deadbeat dad disappearing for years on end then turning up with an X-box and expecting to make everything okay again. I undertake serious physical ordeal maybe twice, three times, in a given year. It would be a very thin practice that only involved devotion a couple of times a year!
The second misconception is that ordeal work is being recommended for everyone. I do not believe that ordeal work is necessary, or even appropriate, for everybody--maybe not even for the majority of people. My understanding is that you have to be wired just right for it all to work properly. If a person had any appreciable health problems going on I would recommend some other form of work.
The third misconception is that all ordeal work is centred around physical pain or suffering. It is not. Ordeals can be wholly emotional in nature. Sensory deprivation, fasting, isolation, being forced to endure insults-these and many other things can represent an ordeal. Where physical stressors are involved they are a means to an end, not an end in itself.
An example from my own practice
In 2007 I underwent what was for me a very extreme ordeal as an offering to my God. To an outside observer it might not have looked so very severe, but it was so wrenchingly hard that I am still dealing with the fallout to this day. It involved a heavy physical-pain component, but it's not that which stays with me.
After turning my back on Loki for a decade, I felt a powerful need to offer up some kind of expiation for that. It was very, very important to me to express my sincere regret over rejecting His call when I was younger, and to affirm my commitment and devotion. (I believed and still believed that this was something that my Friend wanted from me, although of course mortal assertions on the part of the Gods should always be taken with a very hefty quantity of salt especially when they come from someone with my metric shedload of psychiatric and emotional ishoos.) There was a painful physical component-a long and not-fun flogging-but also a psychological component. The working involved a group of volunteers from the spirit-worker gathering I was attending at the time. Those who had agreed to be present were instructed to mock, jeer and sing while the beating was going on.
And. It. Sucked. It sucked it sucked it sucked it sucked.
I really cannot convey to you in words the epic, weapons-grade, end-of-level degree of misery. The plan was that when I felt that I'd taken enough, I was to call a halt; for most people this would be a perfectly reasonable set-up, but the nature of my psychological damage is such that there never is “enough” when it comes to suffering. I always feel like I deserve more, should be able to take more. And under those conditions that deep, dark hole rapidly broke open inside of me; it seemed to inhale all the suffering like smoke or mist. Every time I felt like I needed to stop what was happening, like I just couldn't take any more, that sucking pit of insufficiency would breathe Not enough. Never enough.
Eventually somebody else clocked that I had gone too far out, and intervened. I am terribly grateful to this person. Left to myself I couldn't have called a halt if my life depended on it. I would have stood there all night, under the lash. I would have stood there until I lost consciousness.
Gods, it nearly broke me. Nearly?--No, it did break me. I was destroyed. It took me months to put myself together and get up from what had happened. In a sense, I never really have and probably never will: the joy and reconciliation at the end of the ritual can be drawn to mind only with an effort, whereas the misery... It's not the physical pain that I recall. It's the emotional element that comes back to haunt me in the small hours of the night; it's the shame that rises up to throw its shadow over every accomplishment I've made since then. The humiliation; the despair. Those things linger long after the physical pain has faded from memory.
(None of which should be taken to indicate that the working was anything othre than necessary or successful. It enabled me to start putting my bad choices behind me, and taught me a great deal about myself. Others who were present learned from it too.)
Diversity in devotion
Another misconception is that ordeal workers look down on practices other than physical ordeal as somehow lesser, not as "hardcore" I really want to lay that one to rest, as it's not merely wrong-headed but actively toxic and dangerous.
It's hard to keep in mind, but negative comments about this kind of devotional work are often coming from a place of great pain in a person's heart. When you see an act of devotion being offered and it so happens that you cannot offer something similar, it hurts! It really does. It's like seeing someone make a generous gift to a lover, one which you can't afford-that sort of feeling. If you're a hard polytheist, then the Gods and wights really are like your friends and extended family; you receive these amazing blessings from Them, and it is very natural to want to respond with your own love-gifts. I would like to lay this discomfort to rest and and reaffirm that ordeal work is just one way in which you can serve your Gods. People often say things like “I wish I could do so-and-so, but I can't because I have such-and-such a commitment,” with the implication that they are falling short in some way. As a faith, we really need to get away from this. So you couldn't learn Old Norse because you were working overtime to buy your kid new gear for school-don't you realise that this itself was an act of devotion? When you fulfil such commitments with your heart and mind open to the Gods and wights, you are performing a living prayer. When you have to miss a heathen gathering to take care of your sick child, you are also giving care to the Gods who watch over family and hearth. When you go out of your way to help a friend, you are also gifting those other Friends. When you work your backside off to put food on your family's table, you also feed that other Family.
So, you can't fast because you're diabetic or you can't get a tattoo because you are anaemic, or you can't risk an act of fire resistance because you're the main provider in your family right now. So what? There are a thousand-a thousand thousand-ways to offer up devotion. Paint a picture. Learn a poem. Teach a kid to read. Volunteer for a charity. Go about your everyday life in mindfulness of the Gods. This kind of devotion, it's not some shoddy booby-prize you've switched out for the real deal. It is the real deal! This is where it's at!
The myth of the snooty ordeal worker might be comforting to some, but back here in reality all the ordeal workers I know take care to emphasise the validity of other forms of practice and encourage diversity. We are generally not the ones attacking other people's work.
Lies, damn lies, and bad mystics
It's often implied that by talking about our own ordeal practices, ordeal workers are in some way insisting that everybody ought to be engaging in them and also doing-down other forms of service and devotion. The comments range from the mildly snippy--"it's all very well for you, but I've got XYZ responsibilities; I can't put my health at risk like that!"--to the shockingly hostile and defamatory.
You're lying--you never did those things.
You're just an exhibitionist.
You're only doing this because it gets you off.
You've obviously had it too easy in your life--that's why you have to counterfeit suffering this way.
You're misleading vulnerable people.
Putting people through physical ordeals is abuse. You're a predator. You're no better than a rapist.
You're bringing infamy to our faith.
Liar! Pervert! Abuser!
Even when you know that this must be coming from a place of deep pain, it is very, very hard to hear these things said about oneself and one's fellow voyagers on the ordeal path. The friendships I've forged with those who've participated in ordeal work with me are of great value and it really hurts to see mud hurled at those good friends and allies, especially knowing that at least some of it is bound to stick. I've seen all kinds of things invented about ordeal masters I know and respect. Some of this is just exaggeration or garbled versions of real events, but there's a lot of whole-cloth fabrication too-pure fantasy involving accusations of outright criminal activity. This last is a major act of wrongdoing as such fabrications could get people into severe trouble if they were taken seriously, either by the authorities or by hotheaded individuals who might take matters into their own hands.
I'm going to go through and try to pick the bones out of some of the common accusations.
You're just an exhibitionist.
Actually, having people witness the ordeal is one of the hardest parts of the work. If a solitary ritual can be arranged, I jump at it. I don't like being seen that way. I want people to see me as strong, level-headed, competent and in control. Who doesn't? Who truly relishes the idea of being brought before a gathering of respected friends and colleagues, and reduced to a blubbering, screaming, shivering mess? Who wants to walk around randomly bursting into tears for days afterwards? Would you want people to see you like that? Of course not, and I don't either. No amount of reassurance and comfort from my allies in the working ever makes that part not suck.
In fact much of the ordeal work I've accomplished has been undertaken in private and in secret. I don't write about that side of my practice as much because it's very personal. Not dangerous, not shameful, not wrong, just mine.
You're only doing this because it gets you off.
Ah, that old chestnut! Okay, let's get something out of the way before we begin: yep, I'm a pervert. I'm not a heavy player by any means, and I can't claim any great degree of skill or experienced, but I am into pain-mine or other people's (well, mostly other people's). But this routine dismissal of physical ordeal work as “just a kink” or “just a sex thing” could not be further from reality. A BDSM scene could conceivably tip over into ordeal; a physical ordeal might possibly contain some sort of sexual component. However in most cases sex is going to be absolutely the last thing on your mind. If it's not pushing you well past your comfort zone and out into the farther reaches where there is a real risk of lasting trauma, it isn't an ordeal. If you're standing there thinking “hey, this is kind of hot,” it's not an ordeal. It's really unlikely that there'll be any part of you left over that could be titillated; everything is eaten up by the wrenching experience you're undergoing. You might as well talk about a broken limb being a turn-on, or a bereavement, or a divorce. (I've actually found that repeated physical ordeal has kind of “unplugged” my masochistic streak to a great degree; pain just isn't the turn-on it might once have been, because it connects with those experiences now and not with playtime. Might not be a lasting effect, I don't know yet. I'm a bit sad about that, but I'm okay with it. If I have permanently sacrificed an enjoyable kink on the altar of spiritual development, so be it.) Even as a bystander, I can honestly say that I've never found witnessing another's ordeal in any way erotic. I get too caught up in their suffering to objectify them.
You're bringing infamy to our faith.
I know of no ordeal worker who is claiming that heathen faith requires ordeal at all; in fact, most are at great pains to emphasise diversity in the expression of heathen faith. I hardly see that endurance and dedication can bring ill-fame to anything. If people are worried about ordeal workers bringing heathenry into disrepute, perhaps they could stop lying about the people and practices involved. Every time you make up a nice juicy story about torture, abuse, or medical neglect, the faith takes a hit right along with your intended target.
Putting people through physical ordeals is abuse.
I deeply, deeply resent this one. As I said I'm not an ordeal master, I've only ever given support or been the one going through the ordeal. I guess that according to the anti-ordeal brigade, that would make me a pathetic victim.
Well, I'm not a victim. The people involved in my ordeals are not my abusers. They're my allies. In some cases, they're my great friends. They've travelled with me through some of the most extreme experiences I've ever endured. There has been no coercion. Nobody has ever lied to me or misled me. No-one ever said to me “you have to do this or you're not part of our clique.” No-one's ever said “we'll think less of you if you don't go through with this.” No-one's ever said “you have to do what we say because the Gods will be angry if you don't.” Nobody has ever forced me to undergo ordeal. I've walked voluntarily into the ritual circle; I've bared my own back to the whip; I've thrust my own hand into the fire. And I've been supported, cared for, loved. There was proper care, damage limitation, compassionate support, and whatever lessons needed to be learned were duly learned. Where risk has been involved I was properly appraised of it ahead of time, repeatedly and by separate individuals.
You've obviously had it too easy in your life--that's why you have to counterfeit suffering this way.
Anti-ordeal work people are very, very keen on talking about how they've undergone painful and difficult life events, and contrasting these with the supposedly lightweight kinky fun that physical ordeal workers are fictioned as engaging in. They've experienced “real trials and tests,” whereas we've only been “poked with sharp objects” in (of course!) “a sexually charged and exhibitionist [sic] setting.” Well, I have a few questions for those who offer such cheap, thoughtless little snipes.
What do you think? Do you think I've never suffered? Do you think I've never bled? Do you think my whole life was laid out for me like a turf lawn outside a mansion, rolled smooth and free of hazard? Do you think I've never faced hardship, violence, ill-health, suffering? Yeah, I know that other people have horror stories worse than mine, but I'll tell you this-it was bloody well bad enough. Bullying. Harassment. Abuse. Violence. Medical neglect. An attempt on my life by someone I loved. All the time I was growing up, and well into adulthood. I've had people-not naïve sheltered folks, but people who have seen the worst that humanity can dish out-professionals who work with battered spouses or homeless teens, people who are themselves survivours of childhood abuse-express surprise, on learning my history, that I'm even still alive, let alone functioning as an adult. Although I've made a lot of progress, I've been left with areas of permanent and incurable psychological damage by the things that have happened to me in my past.
Try and imagine how it feels, then, not only to be told that the suffering involved in the ordeal work I've undertaken is counterfeit, but to have everything I went through as a kid and a young adult written out of the script to suit the self-serving agenda of people who don't even know me. It's a gut-wrenching feeling. It's like being humiliated and beaten up all over again. It's like having all the hard work of undergoing ordeal smashed in front of me. Imagine what it feels like to undergo something like the ritual described earlier in the post, and have that dismissed as just kinky shenanigans, not real, not meaningful. I try very hard to rise above it, but oh, it is hard.
It's also very dangerous. Like it or not, ordeal work is here to stay, and that means we have to have meaningful, reality-based dialogue around it. Making up scare stories, or credulously spreading them around without checking your facts, does not achieve that. All it does is create an atmosphere where the only discussion that can be had is about how awful physical ordeal work is and what terrible nasty people ordeal workers are. If people are so used to having to fight to hold space for their practices that they may be more apt not to register more reasonable notes of caution, this does nothing to improve safety or quality of care.
Although it can be a profoundly healing thing, by its very nature ordeal work does involve risk. We need to be constantly vigilant regarding those risks. There are the obvious medical dangers posed by practices such as cutting or branding: transmission of blood-borne infections, wounds going septic, etc. Moreover there are also more subtle dangers that we need to be aware of. Risks like becoming too reliant on ordeal at the expense of other important techniques; pushing oneself too far, too quickly; becoming emotionally hooked on the process; feeling that one can only ask for help or support in the wake of ordeal proper, and not at other times; delayed adverse emotional reactions. We need to be talking about these things and in an atmosphere of finger-pointing, scaremongering, lies and half-truths it is much harder to do that.
Bless bless.
Firstly, what is ordeal? Ordeal can be many things. Work involving pain or other physical stressors is not necessarily ordeal, and ordeal work does not necessarily involve physical stressors. My personal working definition would look something like: “a transformatory experience involving heavy stressors, physical, emotional, or psychological, such as to take the subject out of their normal consciousness for the purposes of spiritual or personal development.” Another important-nay vital-component of ordeal proper would be the possibility of failure: the chance that one might not be able to complete the working as planned, or might suffer some form of lasting harm in attempting to complete it, or simply be emotionally unable to proceed.
Physical ordeal rituals are NOT an integral part of heathen worship. This should be made very clear. Although ordeal work as a valid part of Northern tradition practice can be supported from lore, it is a fringe activity and not a part of mainstream heathen practice.
Some misconceptions
The first misconception I'd like to address is the idea that I go about engaging in scary hurty ritual as a regular thing, or that it's the most important part of my devotional work. I don't, and it isn't. The most important parts of devotional work, in my opinion, are the quiet parts-- the daily prayer on rising, the moments of reflection, the practice of looking for the Gods and wights in all things around you as you go about your day. The small sacrifices of time and attention; the larger sacrifices of making good choices about your life even when they are hard choices too. That is devotion. It is not flashy, it is not what is considered notable, and it is terribly, terribly precious. Without a solid devotional practice underpinning it, an ordeal working would be meaningless; think of a deadbeat dad disappearing for years on end then turning up with an X-box and expecting to make everything okay again. I undertake serious physical ordeal maybe twice, three times, in a given year. It would be a very thin practice that only involved devotion a couple of times a year!
The second misconception is that ordeal work is being recommended for everyone. I do not believe that ordeal work is necessary, or even appropriate, for everybody--maybe not even for the majority of people. My understanding is that you have to be wired just right for it all to work properly. If a person had any appreciable health problems going on I would recommend some other form of work.
The third misconception is that all ordeal work is centred around physical pain or suffering. It is not. Ordeals can be wholly emotional in nature. Sensory deprivation, fasting, isolation, being forced to endure insults-these and many other things can represent an ordeal. Where physical stressors are involved they are a means to an end, not an end in itself.
An example from my own practice
In 2007 I underwent what was for me a very extreme ordeal as an offering to my God. To an outside observer it might not have looked so very severe, but it was so wrenchingly hard that I am still dealing with the fallout to this day. It involved a heavy physical-pain component, but it's not that which stays with me.
After turning my back on Loki for a decade, I felt a powerful need to offer up some kind of expiation for that. It was very, very important to me to express my sincere regret over rejecting His call when I was younger, and to affirm my commitment and devotion. (I believed and still believed that this was something that my Friend wanted from me, although of course mortal assertions on the part of the Gods should always be taken with a very hefty quantity of salt especially when they come from someone with my metric shedload of psychiatric and emotional ishoos.) There was a painful physical component-a long and not-fun flogging-but also a psychological component. The working involved a group of volunteers from the spirit-worker gathering I was attending at the time. Those who had agreed to be present were instructed to mock, jeer and sing while the beating was going on.
And. It. Sucked. It sucked it sucked it sucked it sucked.
I really cannot convey to you in words the epic, weapons-grade, end-of-level degree of misery. The plan was that when I felt that I'd taken enough, I was to call a halt; for most people this would be a perfectly reasonable set-up, but the nature of my psychological damage is such that there never is “enough” when it comes to suffering. I always feel like I deserve more, should be able to take more. And under those conditions that deep, dark hole rapidly broke open inside of me; it seemed to inhale all the suffering like smoke or mist. Every time I felt like I needed to stop what was happening, like I just couldn't take any more, that sucking pit of insufficiency would breathe Not enough. Never enough.
Eventually somebody else clocked that I had gone too far out, and intervened. I am terribly grateful to this person. Left to myself I couldn't have called a halt if my life depended on it. I would have stood there all night, under the lash. I would have stood there until I lost consciousness.
Gods, it nearly broke me. Nearly?--No, it did break me. I was destroyed. It took me months to put myself together and get up from what had happened. In a sense, I never really have and probably never will: the joy and reconciliation at the end of the ritual can be drawn to mind only with an effort, whereas the misery... It's not the physical pain that I recall. It's the emotional element that comes back to haunt me in the small hours of the night; it's the shame that rises up to throw its shadow over every accomplishment I've made since then. The humiliation; the despair. Those things linger long after the physical pain has faded from memory.
(None of which should be taken to indicate that the working was anything othre than necessary or successful. It enabled me to start putting my bad choices behind me, and taught me a great deal about myself. Others who were present learned from it too.)
Diversity in devotion
Another misconception is that ordeal workers look down on practices other than physical ordeal as somehow lesser, not as "hardcore" I really want to lay that one to rest, as it's not merely wrong-headed but actively toxic and dangerous.
It's hard to keep in mind, but negative comments about this kind of devotional work are often coming from a place of great pain in a person's heart. When you see an act of devotion being offered and it so happens that you cannot offer something similar, it hurts! It really does. It's like seeing someone make a generous gift to a lover, one which you can't afford-that sort of feeling. If you're a hard polytheist, then the Gods and wights really are like your friends and extended family; you receive these amazing blessings from Them, and it is very natural to want to respond with your own love-gifts. I would like to lay this discomfort to rest and and reaffirm that ordeal work is just one way in which you can serve your Gods. People often say things like “I wish I could do so-and-so, but I can't because I have such-and-such a commitment,” with the implication that they are falling short in some way. As a faith, we really need to get away from this. So you couldn't learn Old Norse because you were working overtime to buy your kid new gear for school-don't you realise that this itself was an act of devotion? When you fulfil such commitments with your heart and mind open to the Gods and wights, you are performing a living prayer. When you have to miss a heathen gathering to take care of your sick child, you are also giving care to the Gods who watch over family and hearth. When you go out of your way to help a friend, you are also gifting those other Friends. When you work your backside off to put food on your family's table, you also feed that other Family.
So, you can't fast because you're diabetic or you can't get a tattoo because you are anaemic, or you can't risk an act of fire resistance because you're the main provider in your family right now. So what? There are a thousand-a thousand thousand-ways to offer up devotion. Paint a picture. Learn a poem. Teach a kid to read. Volunteer for a charity. Go about your everyday life in mindfulness of the Gods. This kind of devotion, it's not some shoddy booby-prize you've switched out for the real deal. It is the real deal! This is where it's at!
The myth of the snooty ordeal worker might be comforting to some, but back here in reality all the ordeal workers I know take care to emphasise the validity of other forms of practice and encourage diversity. We are generally not the ones attacking other people's work.
Lies, damn lies, and bad mystics
It's often implied that by talking about our own ordeal practices, ordeal workers are in some way insisting that everybody ought to be engaging in them and also doing-down other forms of service and devotion. The comments range from the mildly snippy--"it's all very well for you, but I've got XYZ responsibilities; I can't put my health at risk like that!"--to the shockingly hostile and defamatory.
You're lying--you never did those things.
You're just an exhibitionist.
You're only doing this because it gets you off.
You've obviously had it too easy in your life--that's why you have to counterfeit suffering this way.
You're misleading vulnerable people.
Putting people through physical ordeals is abuse. You're a predator. You're no better than a rapist.
You're bringing infamy to our faith.
Liar! Pervert! Abuser!
Even when you know that this must be coming from a place of deep pain, it is very, very hard to hear these things said about oneself and one's fellow voyagers on the ordeal path. The friendships I've forged with those who've participated in ordeal work with me are of great value and it really hurts to see mud hurled at those good friends and allies, especially knowing that at least some of it is bound to stick. I've seen all kinds of things invented about ordeal masters I know and respect. Some of this is just exaggeration or garbled versions of real events, but there's a lot of whole-cloth fabrication too-pure fantasy involving accusations of outright criminal activity. This last is a major act of wrongdoing as such fabrications could get people into severe trouble if they were taken seriously, either by the authorities or by hotheaded individuals who might take matters into their own hands.
I'm going to go through and try to pick the bones out of some of the common accusations.
You're just an exhibitionist.
Actually, having people witness the ordeal is one of the hardest parts of the work. If a solitary ritual can be arranged, I jump at it. I don't like being seen that way. I want people to see me as strong, level-headed, competent and in control. Who doesn't? Who truly relishes the idea of being brought before a gathering of respected friends and colleagues, and reduced to a blubbering, screaming, shivering mess? Who wants to walk around randomly bursting into tears for days afterwards? Would you want people to see you like that? Of course not, and I don't either. No amount of reassurance and comfort from my allies in the working ever makes that part not suck.
In fact much of the ordeal work I've accomplished has been undertaken in private and in secret. I don't write about that side of my practice as much because it's very personal. Not dangerous, not shameful, not wrong, just mine.
You're only doing this because it gets you off.
Ah, that old chestnut! Okay, let's get something out of the way before we begin: yep, I'm a pervert. I'm not a heavy player by any means, and I can't claim any great degree of skill or experienced, but I am into pain-mine or other people's (well, mostly other people's). But this routine dismissal of physical ordeal work as “just a kink” or “just a sex thing” could not be further from reality. A BDSM scene could conceivably tip over into ordeal; a physical ordeal might possibly contain some sort of sexual component. However in most cases sex is going to be absolutely the last thing on your mind. If it's not pushing you well past your comfort zone and out into the farther reaches where there is a real risk of lasting trauma, it isn't an ordeal. If you're standing there thinking “hey, this is kind of hot,” it's not an ordeal. It's really unlikely that there'll be any part of you left over that could be titillated; everything is eaten up by the wrenching experience you're undergoing. You might as well talk about a broken limb being a turn-on, or a bereavement, or a divorce. (I've actually found that repeated physical ordeal has kind of “unplugged” my masochistic streak to a great degree; pain just isn't the turn-on it might once have been, because it connects with those experiences now and not with playtime. Might not be a lasting effect, I don't know yet. I'm a bit sad about that, but I'm okay with it. If I have permanently sacrificed an enjoyable kink on the altar of spiritual development, so be it.) Even as a bystander, I can honestly say that I've never found witnessing another's ordeal in any way erotic. I get too caught up in their suffering to objectify them.
You're bringing infamy to our faith.
I know of no ordeal worker who is claiming that heathen faith requires ordeal at all; in fact, most are at great pains to emphasise diversity in the expression of heathen faith. I hardly see that endurance and dedication can bring ill-fame to anything. If people are worried about ordeal workers bringing heathenry into disrepute, perhaps they could stop lying about the people and practices involved. Every time you make up a nice juicy story about torture, abuse, or medical neglect, the faith takes a hit right along with your intended target.
Putting people through physical ordeals is abuse.
I deeply, deeply resent this one. As I said I'm not an ordeal master, I've only ever given support or been the one going through the ordeal. I guess that according to the anti-ordeal brigade, that would make me a pathetic victim.
Well, I'm not a victim. The people involved in my ordeals are not my abusers. They're my allies. In some cases, they're my great friends. They've travelled with me through some of the most extreme experiences I've ever endured. There has been no coercion. Nobody has ever lied to me or misled me. No-one ever said to me “you have to do this or you're not part of our clique.” No-one's ever said “we'll think less of you if you don't go through with this.” No-one's ever said “you have to do what we say because the Gods will be angry if you don't.” Nobody has ever forced me to undergo ordeal. I've walked voluntarily into the ritual circle; I've bared my own back to the whip; I've thrust my own hand into the fire. And I've been supported, cared for, loved. There was proper care, damage limitation, compassionate support, and whatever lessons needed to be learned were duly learned. Where risk has been involved I was properly appraised of it ahead of time, repeatedly and by separate individuals.
You've obviously had it too easy in your life--that's why you have to counterfeit suffering this way.
Anti-ordeal work people are very, very keen on talking about how they've undergone painful and difficult life events, and contrasting these with the supposedly lightweight kinky fun that physical ordeal workers are fictioned as engaging in. They've experienced “real trials and tests,” whereas we've only been “poked with sharp objects” in (of course!) “a sexually charged and exhibitionist [sic] setting.” Well, I have a few questions for those who offer such cheap, thoughtless little snipes.
What do you think? Do you think I've never suffered? Do you think I've never bled? Do you think my whole life was laid out for me like a turf lawn outside a mansion, rolled smooth and free of hazard? Do you think I've never faced hardship, violence, ill-health, suffering? Yeah, I know that other people have horror stories worse than mine, but I'll tell you this-it was bloody well bad enough. Bullying. Harassment. Abuse. Violence. Medical neglect. An attempt on my life by someone I loved. All the time I was growing up, and well into adulthood. I've had people-not naïve sheltered folks, but people who have seen the worst that humanity can dish out-professionals who work with battered spouses or homeless teens, people who are themselves survivours of childhood abuse-express surprise, on learning my history, that I'm even still alive, let alone functioning as an adult. Although I've made a lot of progress, I've been left with areas of permanent and incurable psychological damage by the things that have happened to me in my past.
Try and imagine how it feels, then, not only to be told that the suffering involved in the ordeal work I've undertaken is counterfeit, but to have everything I went through as a kid and a young adult written out of the script to suit the self-serving agenda of people who don't even know me. It's a gut-wrenching feeling. It's like being humiliated and beaten up all over again. It's like having all the hard work of undergoing ordeal smashed in front of me. Imagine what it feels like to undergo something like the ritual described earlier in the post, and have that dismissed as just kinky shenanigans, not real, not meaningful. I try very hard to rise above it, but oh, it is hard.
It's also very dangerous. Like it or not, ordeal work is here to stay, and that means we have to have meaningful, reality-based dialogue around it. Making up scare stories, or credulously spreading them around without checking your facts, does not achieve that. All it does is create an atmosphere where the only discussion that can be had is about how awful physical ordeal work is and what terrible nasty people ordeal workers are. If people are so used to having to fight to hold space for their practices that they may be more apt not to register more reasonable notes of caution, this does nothing to improve safety or quality of care.
Although it can be a profoundly healing thing, by its very nature ordeal work does involve risk. We need to be constantly vigilant regarding those risks. There are the obvious medical dangers posed by practices such as cutting or branding: transmission of blood-borne infections, wounds going septic, etc. Moreover there are also more subtle dangers that we need to be aware of. Risks like becoming too reliant on ordeal at the expense of other important techniques; pushing oneself too far, too quickly; becoming emotionally hooked on the process; feeling that one can only ask for help or support in the wake of ordeal proper, and not at other times; delayed adverse emotional reactions. We need to be talking about these things and in an atmosphere of finger-pointing, scaremongering, lies and half-truths it is much harder to do that.
Bless bless.