Ritual Is How We Survive the Big Things

My Dad passed away recently, and honestly you may be hearing things from this perspective for awhile.  The raw recalibration that happens when you lose someone important, unfolds as writing for me. 

Dad didn’t want a funeral or a formal service. Those rituals never fit him. The church rites he grew up with had lost their meaning. The hushed formality of funeral services had a forced reverence he wasn't a fan of. The machine of it all, the scripted performative solemnity. It wasn't him. 

I get it. I mean, he raised me, this all feels true. 

I see "Ritual" collapsing around us. We’ve swung so hard toward the clinical, the measurable, the “scientific,” that anything sacred or symbolic gets squeezed out. Rituals have been institutionalized, monetized, and drained of their soul. Trying to reclaim them on our own way, feels like we are sheepishly stealing cookies from the cookie jar, not wanting anyone to notice our awkward attempt at sacredness. 

And yet…

Last week we gathered in a community hall with the friends and family who lived alongside my Dad. Our Celebration of Life was an afternoon of coffee and chat in the warmth of a country community hall. We needed a time and place where grief could be felt, honoured and mirrored back to us by others who loved him too. It wasn’t a “service,” but it was absolutely ritual. It felt critical.

Perhaps this is the essence of ritual:

A safe structure for the immense things to move through us.
A framework that gives our grief permission to exist.
A moment or practice that offers us the invitation to be present and say, “You can feel this now."

Ritual invites us down a path, Offering a safe container to feel, to be present, to allow the overwhelm and love and loss to wave through us. Without the container of ritual, we flounder, not knowing the appropriate time, place, or way to grieve. So while the old frameworks no longer serve us, it doesn't mean we don't need what they hold. 

Now that I’m home, more rituals are needed here too. More moments and time to allow, safely allow, these feelings to be felt and digested in my body. I need ways to let them move through me and not get trapped, shut off, or shoved down. The beauty of this human experience is to be present to the full range of experiences, the highs of love and the lows of loss.

Loss has its own metabolism. It needs time. It needs room to digest.

And here’s where I’m noticing the difference between routine and ritual in a very embodied way.

Routines help me regulate. They bring me back to a place where I can function. They build Ojas, a steady capacity that lets me handle the big stuff without collapsing. But routines are often done in rote mode. I get them done, check the box, and move on. They are mostly stripped of mystery and meaning, any reverence or intention that would support deep healing.

Ayurveda and Yoga ask us to bring awareness back into the everyday. Let even the simplest habit carry intention, shift from autopilot to presence. But that shift requires specific intention, especially in a world that wants us multitasking 24/7.

Routines will always be routines… until we choose to infuse them with ritual.

And that’s where they transform.

A cup of tea (we laughed at how we could use 20 mugs a day without blinking an eye).
A walk (arm in arm around the block, letting the crisp cold air blow in our faces).
A photo examined for an extra minute before we pass it to the next person.
Brushing and petting his cat, Blackie, who doesn’t warm up to anyone easily.
Letting his favourite music play in the background
Stealing a piece of his wardrobe, a sweater or touque we all remember him wearing.

A small act becoming ritual. An activity offering a container for emotion, memory, and meaning. Any practice can become a time and space, a presence that grounds us into the deep and wondrous magic that a ritual is meant to hold.

Shifting from our default operating system to one that is present is all that is needed. Doing that thing with extra attention and intention - recognizing our need, energy level, processing ability - and responding with self-love, self-compassion, and self-care in the moment.

So I’m sitting in the question now:

How do you create space to process the big things in your life?

What routines slide easily, almost naturally, into ritual for you?

What routines regulate you? 

I’m collecting ideas, listening, receiving.
Send me your rituals, the ways we honour the people who hold a dear piece of our hearts, and our own heart in the process.

xoxo
Jill