A couple years ago, I had the chance to experience something that I have both feared and desired for some time. I waited a long time to write about it because it affected me on a deep level.
Twice a year or so, here in Denver, there is a hook pull ceremony call the Danse of Life. I have never attended. I avoided it, not because I am not interested, but because I always felt like I would be intruding into a ritual that I was not ready to be a part of.
In the summer of 2011, Fakir Musafar and his apprentices were in town, and held a hook pull ceremony. Attendance was limited and they had long ago run out of space. But about two hours before the beginning of the ritual, I was approached and asked to accept one of the spots vacated by someone who was not able to attend.