the soul afraid of dying ([info]schneptune) wrote,
@ 2008-09-25 10:47:00
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Current mood:working

ritual
So I've been sitting here numbing my brain with the 17854 jpegs this poor little Dell has accumulated over the past five years, looking for one particular picture of one particular yellow office building, and suddenly I wanted to get up and practice the Texas dip in the empty office. This is partly caused by boredom, and partly, I think, by the urge to impose sense and order on the world. (The jpegs contain neither, for the most part.) To perform a little ceremony to straighten out and get back on track. I could just stand up and stretch for a moment, but no, I had to think of a ridiculous curtsy.

I love ritual. This was probably made all too clear during my Bridezilla phase, during which I tried to incorporate anything that might be Meaningful into our pseudo-wedding. I stopped short of the broom-jumping because that seemed a little tacky, but there were plenty of things in there that weren't natural or obvious choices. It just all seemed like it would impart some special blessing on our directionless, traditionless lives. And I search for that daily, seeking out trivia and instructions that won't do a bit of practical good. Redacted recipes from medieval to Victorian times; weaving and braiding techniques; curtsies; orders of procession among the British nobility; dances; mythology; the meanings behind superstitions. I'd probably study the Japanese tea ceremony if I wasn't afraid of being told, extremely politely, to fuck off; it seems to exist at a higher level of decorum than mere Western etiquette.

What's your favorite ritual--traditional, personal, or other? I'll just be over here practicing my curtsies.


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My Ritual....
[info]vintage_fish
2008-09-26 06:54 pm UTC (link)
I waver between my own private spirituality and existentialism. I think I'm torn down the middle - I spend perhaps 50% of my time being devoutly religious in a very unique way and 50% of the time certain that Life is pretty much a What-You-See-Is-What-You-Get sort of thing with nothing further or greater.

That being said, when I -am- religious, it is common for me to conceptualize trees as being the greatest form of Life. This is contradictory to the foundations of my religious beliefs, and I haven't reconciled it yet, but that's another story.

I wear an amulet daily that is a stone (turquoise) disc with a steel tree and moon in an oval hanging over the disc. Until a recent weary, sleepless night caused me to leave my amulet at a friend's for a week, I had only missed wearing it once in the last decade.

I wear my tree for everything but sleep. I wear it showering, swimming, hiking, biking, SCUBA diving, and more. I wear it with casual attire and formal clothes; when I wear a corset, I shorten the cord so it hangs just at my collarbone.

Years ago I had a tattoo engraved on my right upper arm, modeled after my amulet. A strong part of the decision to do this was to ensure that the symbol would always be with me as a reminder of what I believe and to what I belong. If I told you that I am the property of a grove of cottonwood trees, you would probably laugh at me, so I won't.

And here comes my ritual.

Every night, just before I lay down to sleep, I remove my amulet.

This is a delicate time for me; a time for meditation and reflection. I hold the amulet between my right forefinger and thumb, and I wrap the cord around my fingers - this is mostly because I have a cat. Dangly cords are fun for cats, and I won't have the cord chewed upon.

I hold the amulet close to my face; I rest my chin on my closed hands. I shut my eyes and I clear my mind.

I begin to think of my grove of trees - I use the word 'my' loosely, here; I am theirs, they are not mine. I recall them as clearly as I can; the cool shade, the rough bark, the perpetual sound of breezes in the limbs and leaves far, far above me.... The scent of sun and dust and lichen as I pressed my face to their trunks....

Some nights I remember each of the trees in all of their splendor. Spring and summer, dusty rain and baking winds, cicada song droning and constant, thunder, clouds and the threat of storm, clear skies and great green hands reaching to feel the sun. I remember them at night, how even with my poor vision and in the pitch black I could find each tree and know they could feel me too.

I remember how I would go to them in my sadness and let go of my problems; how I would cry on them, never in judgement.

I remember the feeling of insignificance welling up in me, consuming me, breaking away any pain and showing me that I was a part of Life, a part of everything, and how, in my insignificance, I was a piece of what was important.

I remember these things, and, with the sensation of my cheek pressed against bark and the scent of lichens still in my nose, I gently kiss the amulet and then hold it to my heart briefly before coming back to my bed, some hundreds of miles distant. Then, and only then, Can I sleep.

That is my ritual. I have never told anyone this much; perhaps I shall post this on my own journal, as well.

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Re: My Ritual....
[info]schneptune
2008-09-29 05:14 pm UTC (link)
That's lovely. You are lucky and diligent both, to feel so connected. I'm envious.

Do post this on your own journal--a friend once told me that journals are a way to store your beauty so you don't lose track of it. This is beauty for sure.

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