Water Ceremonies to Let Go and Move On

My ex-husband and I met when we were both in our early 20s, both working in the Boston labor movement, both devoting our every waking moment trying to make more space for working class people to be free in this world. It felt like the world was changing with us in 2008 as coming out of the economic crash the US elected its first African-American President in Barack Obama. Part of our early romance was time spent door knocking for the President in our neighboring state of New Hampshire, and having him drive me around the North Shore while I collected signatures for a contract negotiation at a local hospital. It was an exciting time, and we felt lucky to have found each other in it. Two years later, we even ended up postponing our honeymoon until the contract negotiations that he was leading at Harvard and MIT were settled. We were devoted to the movement and to each other. A perfect fit in a world on fire.

In the straight, cis, and very gender conforming culture that I was raised in, women are taught from girlhood to always be on the lookout for ‘The One.’ As girls we are told countless stories about how Prince Charming will sweep us off our feet one day, we just have to say yes when he comes to call. After that early version of ‘The One’ is established, we can transfer that fantasy onto mere mortal men in romantic comedies and other movie plot lines where the women spend the entire film obsessing about whether he likes her or not. There is literally a test for this in film, invented by an incredibly talented and very queer American cartoonist, Alison Bechdel. In 1985, Mo and Ginger, two lesbians in her comic strip Dykes to Watch Out For, are discussing going to the movies. Ginger says that she has a rule about which movies she’s willing to see. First, the movie has to have at least two women in it. Second, they have to talk to each other. Third, about something other than a man. Most movies fail this test because their main plot point is about ‘The One.’ He will solve all our problems and be the key to our happiness. Obviously men also talk and search for ‘The One’ but given the dynamics of sexism in straight, gender conforming relationships, the man has the ultimate power in deciding if she’s ‘The One’ or not. Once he confers upon her this special status, marriage, babies, and bliss are sure to follow.

I entered into our marriage with the bright eyed combination of hope and denial that 24 year olds specialize in, all fueled by the myth of ‘The One.’ It came as quite a surprise to me when we separated when I was 32. At first I thought that this was just temporary and surely he would come to his senses and we would figure this out. But as time went on, my denial and hope finally faded. I had to find a way to let go of who I was and become the person that I wanted to be. Lucky for me, I am a Native Muisca woman who was raised Colombian and Jewish. There is lots of culture in there for me to dig into and find myself in. I was not raised in the Muisca community, speaking our language, or knowing our spiritual traditions. But my ancestors have spoken to me my entire life, calling me home in my dreams. As I walk my path back towards them, I am still trying to figure out my relationship to Judaism. It is no accident that my family never talks about being Muisca, does not speak Chibcha and have mostly left our ancestral lands. Being raised Jewish was an active effort to further distance me without my consent from all of that and was used as a weapon of genocide and assimilation to ‘save’ me and ‘kill the Indian’ inside of me. People often think that being Indigenous/Native and being Jewish hold the same weight and value in my life. But when one identity is used to stamp out another, they are no longer equal. 

The one part of Judaism that I love and have been able to hold onto during my coming home journey is Mikveh. This is the Jewish word for a ritual bath that is communally owned and used (but not at the same time) when something changes in your life. To mark that change in the same way that Jews before us have done for thousands of years, all over the globe. In a Jewish community, building a Mikveh comes before building a synagogue. That’s how important it is. There are archeological remains of mikvehs that are thousands of years old. That’s how long our people have had this special relationship with water. When I got married I used the mikveh at Mayyim Hayyim in Boston. I invited five of my closest female friends to come with me and witness my immersion into the sacred waters. I remember writing in my journal beforehand, preparing my body by lovingly scrubbing myself clean from head to toe, and entering the water completely naked, surrounded by the love and support of my friends. It was a ritual that bound us all together and made my marriage real to me. We weren’t just two people that were in it. Now we had a whole community of people pledging to support our union and help us navigate life together.

When that effort failed, I turned to mikveh once again to help me let go and move into a new phase in my life. Looking back on it, I see the guiding hand of the universe in my rediscovery of this wonderful and ancient ritual. Mayyim Hayyim does not hire very often, yet they were looking for a consultant to help them organize an event for and by Jews of Color and Indigenous, Mizrahi, and Sephardi Jews. Furthermore they wanted more of us who identified as any of those things to become Mikveh Guides. They also knew that that meant centering the work of racial justice in their organization more. A perfect time and way for me to engage with the organization. As I got to know the staff, the mikveh, and the ritual more, I fell deeply in love. As a Native Muisca woman I already loved water and know that it is the source of all life. All of our Muisca creation stories and sacred sites are on and about water. I decided to become a mikveh guide because I wanted my people, Indigenous Jews and Jews of Color to have access to this gorgeous ritual that had become so meaningful to me. To be able to be guided by someone who shared their experiences, and could help them feel like they belong.

I have been blessed with support from many people as I peel off the layer of being a wife and let go of my marriage. So far I have immersed in water twice as part of that process, and am planning a third mikveh immersion now that my divorce is finalized. The first ceremony was at Kibbutz Hanaton in Israel, where I met with Rabbi Haviva Ner-David for some spiritual guidance before immersing in the waters of Mikveh Shmaya. The mikveh there is very grounding, homey, and refreshing. I was so comforted by Rabbi Ner-David’s compassionate and attentive listening during our spiritual session, and was able to craft a ritual for myself based on our conversation. I wrote it out on simple loose leaf paper and she laminated it while I prepared myself to immerse. It is a ceremony in three parts. The first is about letting go of the past. The role of wife and caregiver. The expectation of children that did not come. The second part is about the present moment. The state of being I was in as I entered into this special time with the water. My open heart combined with my female intuition. The third is about the future. Stepping into my power and enriching my life. Reaching for peace, joy, creativity, gratitude, faith, balance, and reciprocity. 

My second immersion was at Kaaterskill Falls in Upstate New York. I was visiting some friends who live up there and when I got to this waterfall, I was stunned. The only thing that I could think as I looked up at the water and the rock face was, God lives here. All of our Gods live here. It was a very heady experience. When I looked up at the water, I just knew. It was the first time I had been outside and felt that presence with such force and clarity. I spent that summer going to all kinds of different waterfalls, just following my intuition and trying to listen for the universe to tell me where to go. I found a hidden stream that turned into a small waterfall that flowed into a swamp in the middle of a municipal golf course. I found a waterfall in the middle of a small town. I hiked down to a waterfall that looked like an ancient Mayan temple, even though we were nowhere near their territory. But there was something special about this waterfall. I don’t know why but I know that I belong there.

I came back to Kaaterskill Falls when a friend wanted me to guide her through a mikveh ceremony. We had planned it pre-pandemic so when we had to move it outside, there was no doubt in my mind where we should go. We masked up, distanced, and camped by the lake nearby. The morning of our immersion, we woke up early but took our time getting down to the waterfall. It was windy that day and the sun hadn’t fully come out to heat up the water. Cold but undaunted, we started to prepare with some meditation and writing down what was in our hearts. I wasn’t really sure if I would immerse with her, or just guide but she encouraged me to go in too. I read aloud what she had written down as she dunked her entire body in the small pool of water beneath the falls. 

Then it was my turn to go in. She read the first part about what I was letting go of, and I dunked. The second part about what I was grateful for, then I dunked again. The third part about what I was reaching for, and I went under for the final time. Or so I thought. But when I came back up for air, I could feel the waterfall itself drawing me in like a magnet. Despite the goosebumps on my arms and my chattering teeth, I began my swim and climbed up the rocks to be directly underneath the waterfall itself. The rocks were slippery and formed a wide base to stand on beneath the waterfall. It was a thin stream of water that kept swaying from left to right like a pendulum in the breeze. As I stood beneath the waterfall and looked up, it swayed towards me and fell down right on my head in greeting. I met God. They were happy to see me. I left the waterfall with a full heart and a nourished spirit. 

To my eternal frustration, I have learned in the past year that change happens slowly. I did not emerge from these mikvehs feeling like a completely new person all at once. Rather I emerged feeling that I had left something important behind. A weight that I hadn’t realized I was carrying was gone. I was one step closer to becoming a new and different version of myself. Although some of these steps have been accompanied by fear or sadness, I am so grateful to have found the strength to keep going despite these hard and confusing feelings. I am proud of who I am. All the choices that I have made to get to this version of me. All the people who have helped me along the way. I am proud of where I have ended up and excited to see where the universe takes me next.