As I sit at a virtual dining table, I can almost feel the smooth texture of the wooden chair against my skin. From the other end, a voice gently asks me to wait as the food is prepared. Glancing sideways, I observe noodles being prepared. "I will serve you first, then prepare another bowl for myself," the voice promises, imbued with love. This simple act of waiting, listening, and anticipating nourishes more than just my physical hunger; it feeds a more profound yearning for connection. By the time this virtual experience concludes, I am enveloped in the warm embrace of love. This voice belongs to my 6-year-old nephew in India. Learning how to play the game was not just about fun; it was a bridge to lessen the geographical divide between us, fostering a deeper bond.
My bond with him has grown stronger. Each week, I dedicate an hour to play with him. This seemingly mundane ritual has opened new channels of connection and affection. Engaging children of this age in lengthy video calls is often challenging, yet we have turned it into an eagerly awaited event. This experience has taught me that connection can transcend physical distances, blossoming in the most unexpected ways.
Similarly, my connection with my other nephew, soon to be nine, is marked by conversations around imaginative game design. With my older niece, painting and reading bring us together. The younger one, it's about food and play. My engagement as a full-time aunt reaffirms each bond needs a different invocation. Each relationship has its unique mode of connection, reflecting the diverse ways in which we can relate to and understand each other. The key is to find that ritual.
Moving from the virtual to the tangible every morning, unless rain pours down or my alter ego steeped in sadness weighs heavily, I find daily solace in my walks through the nearby woods. These walks are more than just a physical activity; they are a journey of discovery. Each step reveals something new amidst the familiar—the shapes of leaves, the songs of different birds, and the flow of the stream. These walks have become a source of constant learning and reflection, showing me that even in the most routine paths, there are always new wonders to uncover.
Continuing this theme of connection, every Friday evening becomes a special moment shared with my friend—my husband. Whether over a bowl of cheesy nachos at our neighbourhood pub or singing our favourite songs at home, these moments are filled with presence and no heavy conversations to unwind the week. They remind me that joy often lies in the simplest activities shared with those we love.
Similarly, I make it a point to message my closest friends across continents every week. A few who will happily disown me because of my relentless messages. These simple texts are threads that help strengthen our friendship despite the spaces that creep in when life throws curveballs. It doesn't mean we are consistently there when it matters. These weekly messages mean we try to show up despite all the other pluralities of life that consume us.
And in the quiet moments of each day, I dedicate fifteen minutes to sketching and ending my night with a poem. This practice, routine as it may be, is a daily reminder of the importance of pausing, reflecting, and indulging in activities that feed the soul.
Even something as mundane as opening the fridge after a grocery trip becomes an opportunity for gratitude. These moments of thankfulness for everyday privileges are small yet significant rituals that ground me in the present.
These practices, these rituals, have become integral to my life. They aren't just routines; they are portals to my inner self, each one enriching and awakening me. They have taught me that rituals are not just about the actions themselves but the connections they foster — with others, nature, and oneself.
Experts have written a lot about rituals to improve the outer lives. I always feel a need to shine the light on how rituals can help peer into the depths of the self intentionally.
Esther Perel has written about the importance of rituals in connection to developing better relationships; I see them as pathways to deeper bonds with the self. Each one, whether a message from a childhood friend or a walk in the woods, is a step on a path that lights up with each forward movement, leading to a door that opens into a realm of endless possibilities.
After enduring two immensely challenging years, these rituals of connection have played a role in my being around. They remind me that simple, repeated acts of connection can build the most enduring bridges within us and with the world around us.
Writers, philosophers, scientists, poets - they all cultivated rituals that nourished their creativity and work. Walking, a common thread among them is a testament to this. A wonderful blog detailing these daily rituals can be found at the end of this post.
There is a lot that can be explored in this theme of rituals and connections. I don’t want to go scientific. I can write at length on the bouquet of rituals, but I will save that for some other day. I want to retain the simple message that these are gateways to our inner selves.
I was thinking of what poems to share; these came to my mind. I hope you like them :)
“A Ritual to Read to Each Other” by William Stafford If you don’t know the kind of person I am and I don’t know the kind of person you are a pattern that others made may prevail in the world and following the wrong god home we may miss our star. For there is many a small betrayal in the mind, a shrug that lets the fragile sequence break sending with shouts the horrible errors of childhood storming out to play through the broken dyke. And as elephants parade holding each elephant’s tail, but if one wanders the circus won’t find the park, I call it cruel and maybe the root of all cruelty to know what occurs but not recognize the fact. And so I appeal to a voice, to something shadowy, a remote important region in all who talk: though we could fool each other, we should consider— lest the parade of our mutual life get lost in the dark. For it is important that awake people be awake, or a breaking line may discourage them back to sleep; the signals we give – yes or no, or maybe— should be clear: the darkness around us is deep. Small Kindnesses by Danusha Lameris I’ve been thinking about the way, when you walk down a crowded aisle, people pull in their legs to let you by. Or how strangers still say “bless you” when someone sneezes, a leftover from the Bubonic plague. “Don’t die,” we are saying. And sometimes, when you spill lemons from your grocery bag, someone else will help you pick them up. Mostly, we don’t want to harm each other. We want to be handed our cup of coffee hot, and to say thank you to the person handing it. To smile at them and for them to smile back. For the waitress to call us honey when she sets down the bowl of clam chowder, and for the driver in the red pick-up truck to let us pass. We have so little of each other, now. So far from tribe and fire. Only these brief moments of exchange. What if they are the true dwelling of the holy, these fleeting temples we make together when we say, “Here, have my seat,” “Go ahead—you first,” “I like your hat.”
How we observe and cultivate rituals that connect us with ourselves and everything else that feeds our souls is a pathway to a field of possibilities. These rituals weave the fabric of our lives, making it richer, more colourful, and infinitely more meaningful.
A reflection for you :
"How have the simple, repeated rituals in your life shaped your understanding of yourself and your connections with others, and what new meaning might you discover in these everyday practices when viewed as intentional acts of self-connection and mindfulness?"
This week’s recommendations :
The original blog that inspired the book Daily Rituals by Mason Currey.
On the topic of rituals. and the human condition
If you want support in writing in a tender and loving way, check out
. They are an amazing and cosy community for writers. I attend the authoring circles with the group. I have also attended a season of learning that is curated a few times each year.I wish to share a snippet of my loving conversations with my nephew. I often feel they have the power to move people :) Instead, here is one of my weekend art sprints. I created five watercolour paintings in two hours and have started a long oil painting project on something that rattles me.
Have a blessed Thanksgiving. Until next time.
~IK
rituals are beautiful! thanks for sharing this:
'I make it a point to message my closest friends across continents every week...These simple texts are threads that help strengthen our friendship despite the spaces that creep in when life throws curveballs.
And in the quiet moments of each day, I dedicate fifteen minutes to sketching and ending my night with a poem. This practice, routine as it may be, is a daily reminder of the importance of pausing, reflecting, and indulging in activities that feed the soul.'