Ritual

I have always been slightly obsessed with rituals. 

When I was in college, I wrote a senior thesis on The Ritual of the Eucharist - a real page turner. I suppose this fascination was baked into me being raised in the Catholic Church, where the smells and bells and repetitive prayers can lull you into an almost lucid state - where you can be here and elsewhere all at once. And maybe that’s what is so attractive about the ritual. 

Rituals are a portal into the multiplicity of time and space. They can ground you into full presence with the mundane, or transport you to the presence of the extraordinary, the not-yet-seen or realized. They are a way of reminding myself that I am an ever-changing being who is in the process of becoming - and every step along the way matters. 

Even now in my life outside of the church, I find myself returning to rituals again and again, sometimes not even consciously. Merriam Webster defines ritual as an act or series of acts regularly repeated in a set precise manner. The common denominator in all of my ritual expressions is that I adhere to them when I have the intention to make something true for myself. 

I intend to have clear skin and not a speck of melanoma, so I wash my face and put on sunscreen every morning. 

I intend to be a writer, so I write every day for 30 minutes or more. 

I intend to look this cute while skating, so when I practice, I always challenge myself to do something that will push me to be better.

I started roller skating in 2020 in the midst and angst of the early pandemic, when I was desperate for balance and fresh air,  when I was hoping for something to make me feel like I wasn’t dying or already dead. Skating became an expression of my desire to feel alive.

There are actually quite a few rituals within my skating practice, when I really think about it. Each time, I follow a series of steps, each with its own purpose.

I remove my rings so my fingers don’t swell. 

I put on my wrist guards and change into socks. 

I lace up my skates and do a few warm-up laps, then I stop to stretch my legs and hips. 

I hook up my headphones to my Spotify playlist, and I practice the skill of the day: shifting weight from one foot to the other, crossovers, lemons, pivots and turns. 

There’s always a “victory lap” where I try a crazy move that I probably have no business trying, which almost always ends up with me on the ground - but falling is part of the ritual, too. It’s how I know I’ve completed the act of pushing myself to be better.

With this ritual, I’m already a devastatingly cool, sexy dancer on skates - even if I look and feel like Bambi on ice. In those glorious, sweaty moments when I’m skating, I can be both here and there are the same time.

Sometimes when I’m working towards something new or challenging, I’ll say this mantra:

“I can. And I want to. So I will.”

Ritual is the bridge between the “can” (the ability to act) and the “want to” (my desire). Ritual makes sure that I get from “I will” to “I am”.

Rituals can be as simple or as complex as you want them to be. The point is that they allow us to remember and honor where we are in time and space and what it means for us.

What rituals do you use to bridge who you are to who you are becoming?