Today I cleaned my office deeply.
I dusted and scrubbed and vacuumed and sorted and recycled and reorganized and labeled.
It was satisfying and focusing.
In the clarity of space I lit some incense and imbibed Buddha drinking chocolate while listening to Trevor Hall sing the words, “My love is just a reminder, find your center.”
During this wild time, when everyone is grappling with some form of untethering, I’ve been contemplating my relationship to ritual because I believe ritual is a necessary kind of nourishment.
In the midst of this pandemic, I am currently untethered from the structures and routines I’m accustomed to, from the unchecked consumerism that governs so much of the planet and from the rhythm and comfort of social gatherings,
(to name a few things).
I am not, however, untethered from my right or capacity to create ritual in any moment or in every moment.
Ritual can be extremely simple or as complex as you want it to be.
It illuminates the tether between your heart and reverence.
It is the birthright of every being and it lends itself freely to the imagination.
Sometimes my ritual includes cosmic cacao and sometimes it includes an apple slice.
I might light a candle or a stick of incense or I might arrange some pictures on an altar or a shelf. My ritual might involve sitting and breathing or standing and singing or wandering through the house placing my palm against the shadows on the walls.
The one requirement is directed consciousness.
I bring my attention to the moment and make a choice to honor that moment in a particular way.
As far as I’m concerned, there has been no better time to cultivate rituals that ground and sustain us.
At the end of my reflective chocolate reverie, I wrote this haiku:
Return to magic
Through breath and repetition
Ritual feeds me
Day by day, may we discover new ways to return to wonder, which is magic's base ingredient.
May we know wonder and ritual as precious resources and may we call upon them
to help us navigate the tender unknown.