Danielle shares how she used Be Ceremonial to create a ceremony to release the grief of losing her job and set intentions for her upcoming brain surgery.
Ceremony has always been a bit surface-level for me, somewhat perfunctory, based on what I felt I was supposed to do on certain occasions. I realized with my job loss and upcoming surgery I needed to go deeper. I wanted it to be more personal ~ to mean something more.
I had been looking for a way to acknowledge and release the feelings I was having about my upcoming brain surgery and my recent job loss. Megan is a trusted friend and confidant, and I knew she was the right person to coach me on how to do that. Using her app to guide us, she asked me clear, neutral prompts that helped me determine where I wanted to do the ritual, what time of day made sense, whether I wanted to be alone or with someone, and what I wanted out of it. She was so incredible at inspiring me to think deeply about what I needed to feel supported.
On June 4, 2025, I performed a ceremony alone on a small stretch of beach by the Toronto waterfront near the Sunnyside Pavilion. I played Khruangbin, cleansed the sand with the smoke from dried herbs, and sat cross-legged on a blanket, eyes closed, breathing in lake air and letting the sun warm my face. I chose the water because it’s where I feel most like myself and where letting go feels possible.
I began with the job-loss ritual, naming what hurt ~ the sadness of leaving a place I’d given more than fifteen years to, the people I would miss, and the betrayal in how it ended. I took a length of rope and tied a knot for each strand of betrayal.
Then I read aloud the stories people had written about me and why they loved working with me, and with each one I loosened a knot, until the rope softened again in my hands.
Next, I opened a leather-bound journal my husband gave me for an anniversary and wrote intentions for the chapter ahead in my career. When I closed it, I closed that chapter so I could meet what came next ~ my surgery.
Two weeks after my job ended, I was diagnosed with a brain tumour. This ceremony took place the day before surgery, after months of living suspended between what was behind me and what was ahead, tangled in feelings I couldn’t fully touch. Closing the work chapter made room for the truth of my body and the road in front of me. I let myself name the unfairness of it ~ my plans for a micro-retirement were suddenly rerouted by a massive tumour and the long recovery to follow.
I asked myself what I would need to heal. The answer arrived simply: a sheltered space to convalesce, and a tangible symbol of the love holding me up. Megan had shared a story of people drawing hearts on their hands on surgery day. I wanted something bolder, something I could carry like a charm. I had temporary tattoos of myself printed and asked my friends and family to wear them on the day of my surgery, so their love could travel with me, right on their skin and in my imagination.
To close, I placed two pieces of chocolate in my palm ~ one bitter and one sweet. I ate the bitter first for the sharpness of what had been taken and the sting of what felt unjust.
Then I ate the sweet for the energy I wanted to bring into surgery and recovery: steadiness, hope, and a softer kind of courage. I took one final deep breath, eyes closed, and let the lake take the rest.
What this ceremony gave me
Clarity. Intention. Joy. Release. I felt so clouded by my emotions before, so tangled up in them. Taking the time to intentionally unravel them with ritual was life-changing.
I really loved the tying and untying of the knots on the rope. It was a truly visceral representation of what I needed to do to untangle myself. I also loved the chocolate ~ it’s such a rich and satisfying treat anyway, but to weave in the symbolism of the bitterness with the sweetness was a remarkable way to finish the ceremony.
I learned that marking life’s moments that matter is an important way to make a core memory where you get to control the narrative.
