Why ritual?

Why indeed? Why not live by the seat of our pants? Better yet, why sit at all? Why not just cannonball into the proverbial river and let it carry us downstream into the unknown? Isn’t that what we should be doing in order to live our truth, to express our authenticity, and to be in the now of our lives?

Mmm, not so much. You don’t have to agree with me, but if you continue on, we might come to an understanding, and wouldn’t that be delightful? So I propose we begin at the beginning: why ritual?

We need a starting point, and that point needs to be well-rooted. Ritual doesn’t have to be complex, something done on the third rainy Sunday after the seventh crow has landed on the power lines. Ritual is something repeatable, done with dedication and intent. It can be as simple as that first delicious morning stretch while still in bed, when the cobwebs of sleep are brushed away from all the tissues within the body, before planting the feet on the ground to say,

“Thank you for another day of opportunity and endless possibilities.” 

Ritual can be a place to pause, a place to reset ourselves within our day. Maybe it’s as simple as shutting the computer mid-afternoon to close our eyes and breathe deep enough – and long enough – that the shoulders relax to roost closer to our beltline. Or maybe ritual takes place at the end of the day, enabling us to let go of transgressions and triumphs, allowing us to release anything that might hinder sleep. The when and the how of ritual will go a long way in keeping us centered and present. 

Ritual also implies consistency and mindfulness. In order for something to be considered a ritual, it must be done regularly and thoughtfully. I have daily rituals and weekly rituals. But I must admit with full disclosure, because I hope, dear reader, that you will come to appreciate my candor and honesty, as I continue to share these blog insights into my life, that at one point, I was so enthusiastic about ritual that I had a hard time fitting my work in between the rituals I had created. So word of warning, ritual works best when it has meaning and purpose. 

Let me explain: I partake in some rituals daily, morning and night, and others weekly. Each of my rituals has purpose. My morning ritual is simple: I get up, use the bathroom, brush my teeth, throw water on my face (and I do mean, throw water—there’s something freeing about scooping cold water onto my warm morning face that reminds me of being a kid, when that was all I needed besides a bowl of Cheerios to start my day—the word cheer is in the name and quite frankly, I just realized that writing this sentence, wow—apparently I’m not always that fast on the uptake) and then head to my ocean room to meditate for ½ hour. Simple right? Yes it is. Although meditation can be challenging (more on that later), this is what I do:

• I sit. 
• I close my eyes, and I breathe. 
• I breathe deeply and with curiosity. 
• I let my breath be my eyes, and I journey through my body simultaneously seeing and feeling the topography within. 
• Again, more on that later, but trust me when I say it’s a most invigorating journey – one that I hope to take you on in the future.

The second daily ritual comes in the evening, when I get back into bed and pick up my journal. Journaling is my way of saying adios, arrivederci, and au revoir to the day. I reflect, and sometimes I even cast a connotative thought or two into the future, written down mind you, so that my mind is free of clutter when I do rest my head on my pillow and shut my eyes. Anything and everything graces the pages of my journal, which I take care in choosing – the color of the paper, the hand, whether the pages are lined, grid, or blank, all affect my journaling pleasure. What’s written is one aspect, while the experience of writing, feeling the paper grip the nib of my pen, is of equal importance to me. 

This is ritual, and part of ritual is devotion. Devotion means “love, loyalty, or enthusiasm for a person, activity, or cause.” I am devoted to writing. The act of writing, using a pen is an expression of beauty – I love the soulfulness of cursive on the page; my character, my passion, and my sense of beauty is on full display with each letter and word formed. There is an interesting distinction though between writing as a novelist and journaling as a yogi – I could never journal via computer, it’s too distant to my feelings. I can write novels and journal using a pen, but I cannot journal using a keyboard. 

Now to my weekly ritual: flowers (sigh and add googly eyes and a blissful smile here). Each week, I buy flowers for my home, for the vases that hang above my headboard, and for other spaces that beckon my fancy. It is an indulgence, but it feeds my soul. I take great care in picking the flowers and arranging them – that in itself is a form of meditation, focused concentration on creating whimsical balance. The color, the shapes, the scents reflect my mood, and that is both grounding and uplifting.

Ritual adds keystone consistency to life. Ritual is a starting place, a resetting place, and an ending place. Ritual enables us to step with confidence into the river no matter how fast or slow because we know our anchor points. Ritual moors us so that we can discover our truth in the authenticity of our now. So why ritual? I trust you know the answer.