The shoes put on each time
left first, then right.
The morning potion’s teaspoon
of sweetness stirred always
for seven circlings, no fewer, no more,
into the cracked blue cup.
Touching the pocket for wallet,
for keys,
before closing the door.
How did we come
to believe these small rituals’ promise,
that we are today the selves we yesterday knew,
tomorrow will be?
(Excerpt from “Habit” by Jane Hirshfield, in Given Sugar, Given Salt)
We are packing up our lives again: the third time in less than three years. Boxes are being filled, once again, with our belongings. In a little over two weeks, we will leave our current apartment and move up four floors to another of identical size and view. More upheaval is the last thing I desire, but after two episodes of water leaking into our living and dining area from the forgetful tenant living above us, we began to worry if another next leaking episode might occur when we were out of the apartment. Fortunately, another unit has become available in two weeks’ time, and we have jumped at the chance to re-locate. But for the moment, my daily routine–the small rituals that keep me grounded– has been completely undone.
In times of transition, our daily habits, ones that calm and center us are often disrupted. The irony is, of course, that in times of upheaval, we need them most. Quiet, meditation, time alone, a solitary walk –whatever habit nurtures our inner lives is a kind of spiritual re-fueling, something essential to navigating the ups and downs of life. When I cannot find time or space free of interruption or distraction, not only is my creative work is compromised, but my disposition suffers. I become irritable, tense, and overwhelmed by all that needs doing. I have to remember to hit the pause button and take the time I need to simply be quiet, find a little space of solitude so important to the mental and emotional space that feeds my spiritual and creative life.
In solitude we give passionate attention to our lives, to our memories, to the details around us.—Virgina Woolf
Not only do everyday habits or little rituals calm and feed us, in the face of life’s passages, passages, like birth, puberty, marriage, and death, we create rituals. Not only are they a way of honoring transitions from one life chapter to the next, but they do even more for us. In times of uncertainty and change, our rituals help us cope. They minimize the helplessness or depression we might feel without them. They allow us to acknowledge and express our deepest feelings, offer a sense of meaning and connect us to what is sacred. They also remind us of our need for connection to others, for community. Our rituals, whether more formal or the everyday habits we have, help us navigate difficult times, providing some sense of the familiar, of constancy. In that sense, they are healing.
What habits or “small rituals” feed your inner life? Whether a morning walk or run, a warm bath, meditation, a quiet time to write or simply gaze out the window, listening to music or sitting quietly in a park, we find comfort in our daily routine. Our modern world is full of noise, rushing, busyness, and constant interruptions, competing demands. Quiet, solitude, a space of one’s own: all offer a different kind of nourishment and healing, no matter what change, turbulence or challenges life throws at us.
“Everybody should be quiet near a little stream and listen.” (From the children’s book, Open House for Butterflies, by Ruth Krauss, 2001, illustrated by Maurice Sendak)
Your little rituals and habits are also important in creating a sense of safety and comfort in a life turned upside down by cancer. In Rituals of Healing (1994), Jeanne Achtenberg and her colleagues discussed how rituals act as outer expressions of inner experiences, helping you relax, re-connect with yourself and the little pleasures in everyday life. They help you calm your mind and concentrate on positive thoughts, all important to the healing process.
Ted Kooser, poet and cancer survivor, began a routine of morning walks during his cancer recovery. In the introduction to his book, Winter Morning Walks: One Hundred Postcards to Jim Harrison (2000), he described the unexpected benefit of his daily walks:
“In the autumn of 1968, during my recovery from surgery and radiation for cancer, I began taking a two-mile walk each morning…hiking in the isolated country roads near where I live…During the previous summer, depressed by my illness, preoccupied by the routines of my treatment, and feeling miserably sorry for myself, I’d all but given up on reading and writing… One morning in November, following my walk, I surprised myself by trying my hand at a poem. Soon I was writing every day… I began pasting my morning poems on postcards and sending them to Jim…”
Kooser’s habit of walks in the early morning was not only important to his recovery, but to his life as a poet. He began, again, his routine of writing daily.
This morning, as I write this post, sitting amid boxes, packing paper and a living space that seems to be unraveling a little more each day, I’ve found solace in carving out some time to write. It was a time to pause, to re-set, be quiet and gaze out the window–despite winter’s early blast of cold and snow–and feel a little oasis of calm. And it showed.
“How is the day going so far?” my husband asked as he quietly made his way to the kitchen for coffee.
“It’s full,” I said,” but before I began the tense litany of my growing list of “must be done by…” I managed to laugh. “Brace yourself,” I said.
He patted my shoulders, grateful, I think, to see that my tension had eased a bit by having a little time of solitude and quiet, enjoying my coffee and writing — my daily ritual that calms and nurtures. Today’s “must be done by” list seems a little more manageable somehow.
Writing Suggestions:
- What daily routines offer you some sense of solace?
- What has helped to calm or comfort you in the midst of doctors’ appointments, treatment or recovery?
- What habits or routines have helped to ease feelings of stress, pain or suffering–or sustain you?
- Write about your habits or “small rituals,” the ones that feed your inner life.