Atai, Becoming

by Emma Bevan

She was dizzy with excitement, fear and pride… at last, she had completed the annual Climb.

The members of her tribe parted as she limped through on bruised feet, cut and sore from gripping the cliff face. Their voices became hushed, their eyes glittering with anticipation —would she now survive the dive into the river far below?

Atai focused on her breathing, the calm place in her mind that she had learned to focus on with the priestess who trained them all. She recalled how to slow her heartbeat in order not to panic as she waited to burst back out of the river, and stepped nearer the edge, clearing her mind of the excited cheering and whispers of her tribe.

She looked out over the river, then walked to the very tip of the cliff. Curling her toes around its rough edge, she gazed down at the waters of the river. Some of the clan had tales of how it swallowed you if you were not worthy and spat you out when it merged with the sea.

But Atai knew as she looked down, down and down beneath her, that the river was a giver of Life, that it filled their thirsty mouths with cool water and fed them fish from its clear depths.

As she lifted her arms to signal she was ready for this leap, this initiation into adulthood, the crowd gasped behind her. As the adrenaline coursed through her body, Atai focused on what lay ahead, determined to succeed. She crouched down low, then as quick as a dart dived over the edge of the ancient cliff.

Atai fell fast from her rocky perch. It seemed such a long fall from above, but suddenly the ice cold grip of the river claimed her outstretched arms. Atai kept calm, flicking her body around to face up and out of the waters. Her heartbeat slowed as much as she dared— knowing that if she took too long to surface the river would have no choice but to claim her for its own.

With her limbs working hard in the freezing water Atai thrust upwards, her lungs beginning to burn with the effort of not inhaling the water. She at last burst out of the waters into the sunlight and the air!

Atai was almost overwhelmed by the many emotions and sensations as her body tried to keep afloat, breathe the cool air deep into her lungs, and grin all at the same time; she was ecstatic!

Then, a noise, faint and far above her. Slowly she realised it was the sound of the clan, far above on the rocky cliff, cheering and shouting in her triumph!

Atai swelled with pride —even as she prepared for her next task. Once she had heaved her weary body up onto the bank of the river, Atai must now wait for the first animal to cross her path; be alert, aware, and wait quietly until a creature actually did crawl, fly, or run past. Despite the elation of her successful dive, she also felt exhausted and welcomed this moment to sit still on the grass and await her ‘spirit’ or ‘totem’ animal.

In the sky, no birds flew overhead, the grass lay undisturbed by insects, and the river showed no sign of leaping fish. The air became still and heavy with intent, and Atai wondered if her spirit guide would ever reveal itself.

As her breathing became more regular and the damp of the waters dried on her tingling limbs, Atai heard a faint drumming noise. Then she saw huge clouds of dust rising above the trees in front of her. The drumming was turning in her direction. She rose to her feet as a herd of galloping horses burst out of the trees and into the open space in front of Atai. Her heart leaped as she realised this magnificent animal was her spirit guide!

Slowing a little as they entered the clearing, some horses glanced around nervously, others were snorting loudly. As they trotted towards Atai, one looked directly at her. Fascinated, the initiate was compelled to walk forward a little as the white mare walked out from the herd and walked towards the young woman. She held out her palm and the beautiful horse stretched out her neck and sniffed the hand, nibbling the outstretched fingers with her bristly lips, making Atai giggle quietly.

The young woman and the mare regarded each other, their eyes reflecting each others’ understanding. The proud mare bent her head and allowed Atai, trembling with delight, to stroke her flowing mane. She then turned slowly back to the herd, and they began to trot out of the clearing and reenter the trees.

Atai stood, transfixed by this momentous encounter, her heart pounding with excitement and joy. The horse was considered to be a faithful guide to the Otherworlds. For Atai and her tribe it symbolized stamina, endurance, and faithfulness; the mare especially was associated with the feminine aspects of nurturing and fertility.

These ancient beliefs were well-known by the young woman. She had absorbed all the stories and teachings of her elders, curled up at their feet each night by the fire. She understood now that not only was her guide one of stamina and endurance —borne out by completing this initiation at her young age— but her journey was to be a meaningful and spiritual one.

Atai shook herself from her reverie, realising she had a long trek back to the path (where one of the men would have been sent to help her home on their own horses), and set off light of heart and of foot, for she knew she would now have the respect and responsibility she sensed she had always deserved…

‘This walk feels so different now’ Atai thought to herself, as she picked her way along the overgrown tracks that meandered through the forest. She knew all the paths well, almost as though she had created them herself. Atai had always explored the forests and rivers, learning the names and uses of the plants, and the habits of the creatures that shared the land.

Whilst her feet trod their familiar route, Atai let her mind wander over the day’s spectacular events. It was if she had been dreaming —’But,’ she spoke out loud, ‘It IS all true!’

“Are you so happy that you talk to yourself?”

Startled out of her thoughts, Atai looked up to see one of her clansmen waiting on his horse, grinning broadly, with her mount standing beside him at the end of the path.

‘Buka!’ — she blushed as she swung herself up onto the smooth mottled back of her mare.

Atai, still flushed with the thrill of her encounter, quickly told him about her dive, and the beautiful creature that had approached her.

“Is your companion still worthy of you, now that you have conquered both the Initiation and connected with the white mare?” Buka teased her, though they both knew he was thrilled with her success.

Atai grinned. ‘I think both she and my human escort will suffice for now’ she countered. ‘Will all the tribe be back in the village when we arrive?’ Atai knew there was always a feast following the test, whether to celebrate the success, or acknowledge the passing of those who did not make it. She shuddered suddenly, remembering the sad acceptance in the eyes of Sare’s mother last year.

Buka saw at once where her mind was wandering and urged his horse into a gallop, knowing Atai’s mount would follow and that its rider would have all such thoughts blown from her head. Atai snapped her head up and instinctively gripped with her knees, feeling her mare’s muscles bunch underneath her as she pushed forward to keep up with Buka’s ride.

She immediately realised exactly what his intention was. Smiling, she crouched low over her horse’s mane, squeezed her legs tighter and willed the mare to run faster.

Atai lay almost flat against her horse’s neck. ‘Let us see how fast we can fly!’ she whispered to the mare, tightening her grip around its body.

Buka’s horse was only inches ahead now, and Atai was able to cut across a bend in the path and steer her horse in front.

“Now we see how bold she is!” cried Buka joyfully as his cousin sped past, urging his ride into a gallop also, but too late —Atai was glancing over her shoulder, the wide smile on her face glimpsed briefly before she once more bent forward over the neck of her sturdy horse.

As the mare’s hooves thundered down the old track, Atai looked down and watched with admiration the grace with which the animal moved, each muscle contracting and extending; ripples and shadows running across the surface of its skin, as though a river was flowing over the horse —then sat up a little as she helped the mare negotiate her way over some fallen trees —slowing a little just to tense her hind legs, the little horse lengthened her neck and leaped over the trunks and branches.

‘Whoooo!’ Atai yelled —the mare’s leap mirrored the joy in Atai’s heart.

Buka, close behind, was full of admiration for his cousin. Although only nineteen harvests had passed, she was unlike many her age. Even as a baby, she had possessed a querying expression, one that told you she was one of the Old Souls.

Atai slowed her mare to a trot; the track widened as they neared the village. Buka pulled his horse up beside her, just slightly further back. “Why do you not ride head to head, cousin?” queried Atai.

“This is your day Atai” Buka smiled, “And I have had my triumphant rides into our village. This is your moment. I have had the honour to be chosen to escort you home. You must enter first and I will be right behind you.” Buka paused; he knew Atai was not one for attention and she often slipped quietly out of village gatherings when they threatened to overwhelm her, but today she would have to remain until the end of the feast. He knew she would be needing support to make it through the ceremony.

“I know the thoughts passing through your head, kind Buka, and I will be needing someone to keep me focused, I am aware of that.” His cousin smiled up at him.

Atai slowed her horse further, taking deep breaths,wanting to ride in looking as confident as possible. ‘Can I appear unruffled? Can I use my breathing techniques from the dive to help me here?’ Atai asked herself, and found the answer that was returned to her was Yes.

‘I return humbled by my passage into adulthood, full of joy and gratitude’ she murmured, sending positive thoughts out to the ancestors, and the spirits of the trees and rocks around her. As Atai chanted this to herself quietly, she focused on slowing her heart again, not as dramatically as for the dive, but enough for her not to allow the tight band of panic grip her chest and throat, as tight as the vines that almost choked the trees around them, an image that had often haunted her when she was summoned to a large gathering.

Buka observed the play of shadows upon Atai’s face, and knew she was preparing for what would be for her a potentially intimidating ritual which marked the end of the Initiation.

As both riders fell into a more calm and reflective state, the two horses fell into step with one another, and meandered down the path that led to the village. Atai, head bent, concentrated on her breathing. The young woman’s green eyes half-closed; trusting her horse, relaxing into the rhythm of the hoof-beats and her heart. The riders’ attention was caught by the scent of the ceremonial fires, and then they heard the excited chatter and singing of their tribe. Atai rode forward into the clearing of the village where a great cheer greeted her. Her father stepped forward to help her from the horse, her sister approached with handfuls of moss and herbs with which to wrap Atai’s swollen feet, and her mother kissed Atai’s forehead in the solemn tradition with which an Initiate is greeted; then grinned and threw her arms around her daughter.

Suddenly, people were crowding, questioning, cheering, congratulating as the wave of people swept them into the hut. Her family managed to steer Atai to the side where they huddled in the corner, sank gratefully down onto the soft furs. Their time together now was limited and they would have to wait until the morning to be able to talk; so, quick hugs, trying to thank Kela, her sister, as the cool, soothing herbs were wrapped tenderly around her feet and secured with leaves, whispered congratulations, loving smiles —before the crowd finds them once more and ushers Atai and the fellow survivors of the leap towards the middle of the hut. For a moment she glimpsed the great table where their leader was sitting, dark eyes watching each that danced and sang in front of the fire. Atai peered through the smoke to see which other participants of the Initiation had already arrived. The atmosphere was familiar, yet she felt the extra excitement as today she was to be honoured too.

The room grew hotter and louder as the last of the successful divers arrived. Buka had pushed forward, seeking his cousin; his eyes found hers, and she could see clearly his question reflected there —was she ok? Atai quickly scanned down her body with her mind, and found to her surprise that yes, she was doing fine, the crowd and the noise were bearable; so she grinned back at Buka, nodding —yes, yes, I am fine she mouthed over the heads of the clansmen. She felt exhilarated, for she had not once felt the tightness pull around her chest or throat. Could the experiences of today have already changed her so much?

These thoughts were snatched away as she was grabbed by the shoulder and spun around. The Initiates were required to dance around the fire as the rest of the tribe sang their praises, stamping their feet as they chanted, the dancers picking up the rhythm. The singing, chanting and dancing, the pungent fumes from the herbs thrown into the fire, the heat of the flames, whose shadows danced along the walls, the hypnotic sounds of the stamping and drumming, all combined to send the dancers into something of a trance. The mesmeric pull of the ceremonial rite tugged at Atai’s mind and heart, and she was completely absorbed into the beat. The ancient rituals , at once both comforting and exhilarating, were calling to her soul and to her blood.