At A Glance Author Rebekah Contact [email protected] IAM rebekah When N/A Location Rhode Island, US I close my eyes, only for a moment, and the moment's gone
All my dreams, pass before my eyes, a curiosity
Dust in the wind, all they are is dust in the wind.
Dust in the Wind, by Kansas
Writing this is very difficult; I'm crying a lot. I could feel the endorphins, and the love, in the air of the Mill. A week later, I'm only just now starting to "come down."
This was my third time attending the annual Rhode Island Rites of Passage Suscon. At the first, I saw a woman have a problem with her suspension. While there was certainly an abundance of staff trained in medical emergencies, I felt that I needed to do something, anything, to help. I sat with the woman as she sipped her juice, and quietly admired scars on her back. (A scar is an injury that has healed. One doesn't heal unless one has survived; therefore, scars symbolize survival. This woman was one tough cookie.) When I got home, I renewed my CPR certification and earned another certification in First Aid; I was never going to feel again as though I couldn't help
For this, the third ROP Suscon, I was allowed to assist the staff. I spent three days handing out bottles of water and juice boxes, as well as the occasional glucose tablet. On the one hand, I did pretty much what I did when I began with the Red Cross in 1979. (I began my work with them by handing out cups of orange drink to potential donors, after their temperatures had been taken.) Any kid could have done what I did. On the other hand, by being available to run around with juice boxes, I was able to free people who could be more useful elsewhere. I also found that seeing my friends bleed a little, with what amounts to fresh wounds, bothered me far less than it had in past years because I was, well, needed. I didn't participate in the conventional sense (in that I didn't suspend), but my presence was felt in what I would like to believe was a positive way.
Attending a suspension event is like no other event. A convention such as this allows people whose appearances are shunned by society to be themselves, ourselves, for a few days. It's a highly emotional event because a suspension is, indeed, a rite of passage. The history of suspension may never be totally archived because so many cultures have embraced it through the years. It takes a very strong individual to trust someone to pierce his or her skin with needles followed by hooks, and then to allow someone to lift one's self from the safety of the floor on which one's feet traditionally belong.
Ah, the feet. I did my best to look for people who had never "gone up" before, because I felt that they were the most likely to become dizzy and not be familiar with the feeling. I watched the coaches go back and forth with the suspendees, until the suspendees were on tiptoe, and then finally... off the floor. Each time someone's feet left the floor for the first time, I wept a little, honored to have been allowed to witness something so highly personal. It was like watching a child's first steps, with the emotion ranging from shaky... to confident... to delighted! The emotion was truly palpable.
One man with whom I spoke felt that he should have been able to stay up longer than he did, because his friend was still up. I reminded him that this was his ritual, and that it wasn't a competition. I'm sure that there are indeed venues in which suspension turns into a contest, but that wasn't the case at this event. (This man went on to do a Superman Suspension two days later, staying up for over forty-five minutes.)
I spoke with a woman who was afraid to let her feet leave the floor, feeling that she was "too fat," Her weight was absolutely well within acceptable limits. As someone with a big tush, I told her that, if I'm not too fat to suspend, neither is she. While she didn't set any records with a time frame, she completed what she started. She can be proud of herself.
Another man got dizzy, but decided to try again. He succeeded. I'm quoting Tony with his permission:
I keep dreaming about my feet, like the exact moment they left the floor. the rush of all those new feelings and sensations hitting me all at once. My chest tightening up like a scared hermit crab in its shell. Then as if I unknowingly flipped a switch in my head it stopped. I was overcome with this sense of euphoria. I was awash with the mindset of (like you said) just being born. I was in this new place doing amazing things. Everytime I figured out I could do something new I was so happy, and excited all I could do was let out a goofy laugh. when I finally started siwnging around I never wanted to stop. when Craig pushed me around the room for the 1st time, all I did was close my eyes and envision some lush, surreal landscape. Then I added some spinning and I was not in the room anymore. I was on my own vast, surreal playground. It was beautiful, I've never felt more comfortable or more at peace than I was when I was suspending. I was glowing and it was the most beautiful thing I've ever done.
Several times, I thought he might be dizzy, but it was simply that he was trying to put into words the sentiments that he was feeling... but words failed him.
The three-day event was held in several rooms in a mill in Rhode Island, USA. Trained piercers, some of whom have EMT education, were members of the crew. People came from as close as two miles away, and from as far as the United Kingdom. While there were many things going on, the combination of a fantastic reception crew, supplies stocked in advance, and people who worked well together made Suscon 2005 a successful event.
Unlike most of the other attendees and staff, I have never suspended. I actually have no desire, currently, to suspend. I attend events such as this not only to meet people with whom I have been corresponding via IAM, but also so that I can, cheesy though it may sound, breathe in some of the love and emotion that's in the room. I wanted to assist the crews because, to me, it was the only way I could possibly repay them for the opportunity to attend. Cash, while needed to run such an event, just didn't seem like enough.
I had an incredible time and would go again next year, even if Rites of Passage wouldn't let me help. That said, I'd love the chance to assist these warm, loving, brilliant people. It was an honor and I thank them with all of my heart.
Much love to all of you, and thank you again.