When I was a kid, I was taught to pray before I went to bed and before I ate my food. My mother or father told me what to say and I repeated what they said. It was a regular ritual.
Yet, as I grew older, the sacred rituals became less about G*O*D. The sacred ritual of prayer gave way to more profane rituals.
One regular ritual, I enjoyed was the daily after school break.
After a long day of learning, I would reunite with my brother. At home, we would playfully fight over who could lay on the couch, while we watched cartoons on television. We would laugh and giggle as we pushed each other off the couch.
Snacks were usually involved too. I loved those little raspberry flavored coconut cakes. And we had some pop or soda or whatever cold, sweet drink was in the refrigerator.
We pushed and shoved each other, all the while laughing, until we both would fall asleep on the couch. About 30 minutes later, each of us would be doing home work in our respective bedrooms.
It was a daily habit, a ritual to end the school day and begin the evening of studying.
Years later in grad school, I had lots of profane rituals. The main one was this:
- Get up.
- Take a shower.
- Drive to classes.
- Write.
- Read.
- Study
- Talk to advisor
- Go interview Black women in scattered sites public housing in Lucas County for Master's thesis project
- Eat something
- Drive home
- Go to bed
- Repeat
There was a lot more going on in my life, but the education rituals continued. And then one morning, I recall opening my eyes and saying,
Oh , great. I'm awake.
This kind of sarcasm about the fact that I was living and breathing seemed. . . . not quite right. That's what I thought a moment later. And it was this feeling of dread for the same profane ritual that inspired my redirection toward something that would be a little more sacred and less cynical.
I got back into martial arts. I was one of three women in the group for a long time. Every meeting began with meditation. I made friends and they were my core group of people. We had pizza parties and watched martial arts films. I learned a lot about negotiating conflict using your physical assets and weaknesses. I wish I could say that I meditated on my own after class. I didn't.
I started to incorporate more sewing and knitting into my daily life. And as a younger person, I had really gotten into the flow of creating my own clothes or crocheting blankets. I had been doing some kind of needlework since I was really young. I taught myself to knit as a teen.... I had quit marching band and regularly making music. . . I needed something that would center me and provide a sense of self-efficacy. But, I was not sure then if regularly sewing and knitting was a sacred ritual.
What I can say is that I was trying to create more meaning in my life. I was trying to find something that centered me. I wanted to find the answers to a lot of events that were happening in my life at the time . . . like becoming an adult, the dissolution of regular nuclear family activities as my parents divorced, and of course the after school break ritual was long gone.
Things change. Life events cause change. People decide to take actions that seem to turn everything we know upside down. I think I read that the Buddha said that life is suffering. From further reading, I understood this to mean that attachment causes suffering. Then I decided, don't get too attached. Change is the only constant.
I like to be proactive about things, you know? Well...
Rituals mark endings and beginnings. They provide meaning during times that are highly stressful and the world seems to be going topsy-turvy. They are repetitive, they can involve many people or just one. They can include food and drink. They can be petitions for goodwill or blessings. Rituals could assist in addressing conflict. They provide a sense of self-efficacy when the world seems so big.
So, being proactive, I got really organized about my rituals. Some are seasonal craft-making rituals that bring a lot of meaning to my life and renew friendships.
However, in the midst of my regular rituals, sewing, wire jewelry-making and knitting, I found that I still was feeling quite off center.
I was in the midst of change....again!
I said some words.
It was not a prayer.
And yet, I found myself feeling like I needed a moment of silence. . . . real prayer. The kind of prayer that says,
please, help. Someone, anyone. . .Universe, God, Jesus, Krishna, Allah, Buddha, Science, TINA TURNER!!!
I mean What What Tina Turner do right now?
WHOA!!!!!!!
What cognitive dissonance!
I mean, except for going back and examining Tina Turner's life for help, what sense did any of this make?
But, I am human and as much information as there is about the human condition, there are still circumstances that mystify. I have an ability to look forward with hope. And I can think through possibilities and probabilities about what could happen. And still I need a regular ritual to get my brain out of the emotional hijack.
Surrender......
Just a moment of silence, just a moment to breathe, just a moment to contemplate, just a moment of prayer.
In solitude, I found myself thinking about making prayer beads or beads of contemplation, or meditation. My mother taught me to pray and my father taught me to never surrender. Perhaps, a humanist ritual is the space between.
See this article from
Scientific American on rituals.
