Rituals, as I define them, are events that follow a prescribed order to create an atmosphere of focus. Rituals can be as simple as crossing yourself before a large ski jump to the complexity of a Traditional Japanese Tea Ceremony. Rituals can be simultaneously participated in by millions of people, such as Mass at The Vatican, or can be done by yourself, like your psych-up routine before a big game.
Because the actions involved are largely ceremonial, outsiders looking in on a foreign ritual will often not understand it. That's part of the point. In ritual, the need for clear communication through actions and words has been put aside. Those who understand a ritual do so because they've studied it beforehand, much like how we can sing our country's national anthem as a group of spectators.
So if it's not meant for communication between people, why do we do rituals? What is the purpose of the stylization, the formality, the ceremony? Why robes and chalices and holy items? Why should anyone with half a brain want to participate in mind-numbing repetition?
Let's talk for a minute about partner dancing. Ballroom dance, salsa, swing, blues, however you dance with another person, there are some set rules.
- There is music. Even if it is in your own head, music exists. Even if it is simply the rhythm of the beat of your own heart, to dance, especially with another person, there must be music.
- You are doing the same dance. If you want to samba and your partner wants to waltz, you're gonna have a bad time. Wanna dance with someone? Make sure you are on the same page.
- You must hold yourself up. Partner dancing involves something called frame. It means that you must turn your body from an amorphous noodle into something sturdy. When your partner puts his/her hand on you, he/she must feel confident that he/she will be able to transmit power, energy, and intent through the combination of muscle and bone that connects your two brains. Each dance has its own combination of rigidity and flexibility that makes this possible.
- You will step where/when you are supposed to. Again, this varies with the dance, but every dance has a rhythm of stepping. Vary from that, and someone's toes are getting crushed.
Music is playing. Good music. Strong music. The kind of music that sticks in your veins and makes you want to move. You are with someone who hears it too. The two of you take hold of each other; strong yet flexible. A pause of anticipation, then the downbeat comes and you move. But not you as in the singular, you as in the plural. Both of you move. You step in sync with each other, one person leading and the other following. Then it happens; the you plural becomes the you singular as the two of you move as one. The connection between person and person and music ceases to exist as islands in the ocean becomes one combined continent. The feeling is wondrous, ecstatic. It blurs and obscures all of the outside world, focusing in on the connection between two separate people. The feeling lingers long after the dance has ended and you have left for another partner.
So too is true ritual. Done well, it binds the participants in a welcome trance; shutting out the distractions of everyday life to focus on that which has been set aside. Rituals help us focus on family, community, celebration, discipline, unity, morbidity. Small rituals can even help us in concentrating on a task.
In the casting aside of my old culture(s), I've come to miss my old rituals. As I study new cultures, I feel drawn to new rituals. And as I examine these new rituals with my skeptic eye, I note the similarities to my old rituals: food, drink, meditation, touch, music, love. In the quiet of my mind, I hear my heart yearning for ritual, for that which brings me into focus and connection with others. I'm not sure where the journey is leading, but it's comforting that the way seems so familiar.
I'm still here,
LT
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