Ritual and Sudden Change
How One Prepares You for the Other
A few months ago, a clay colored Robin started both building a nest outside my office window and singing distinctive melodies. I had never noticed this melody before and learned that it is only used from breeding until the babies leave. Other times, they are silent. After a week or so, I watched the two Robin parents take turns sitting for hours in the nest. Eventually, I heard the tiniest chirps and watched the parents fly a hundred times a day to our compost pile to get slivers of papaya and feed the two opened mouths. The babies grew so fast that they were starting to climb the sides of the nests within a few weeks. Then, one morning I watched the parents swoop down to a nearby tree and sing their melodies with intensity. The same tune, repeatedly, rang out for about an hour. Finally, the first bird, and ten minutes later, the second took their first wobbly flight to a branch near their parents. That afternoon onward the term empty nest took on new meaning. None of the Robin family ever returned.
The Robins had me thinking a lot about all of the rituals, the repetitions of raising children. that incessant calling: what it modeled, how it offered a direction, and how it showed belief in their babies’ ability to fly. They weren’t going to stop until their babies flew to their voice.
In the 70s and 80s, we…
When I was growing up, my mom was single and worked full time as a bartender. My sisters were mostly out of the house, as they were eight and nine years older than me, respectively. Like many Gen Xers like to post online, I spent a lot of my time alone or outside and with neighbor friends. What I was never modeled (and probably why I loved school so much) was how to create structure for myself. How to inhabit the world, how to know when I was ready for the next thing. My worst fear was being unprepared and uninformed. At home, there was never a list of things I should do each day. Sometimes I’d come home to an empty house and make myself cinnamon toast or a mayonnaise lettuce sandwich. Sometimes my sisters or mom would be home and they’d make a pot of spaghetti or chipped beef and gravy. But I could never find patterns or rituals.
Various strays (friends, boyfriends, relatives, and animals) lived with us without even a discussion. I never knew what to expect for meals, events, or people. Unfortunately, this didn’t cultivate a sort of enlightened detachment. In fact, it fomented both the inability to say no and a hypervigilance to watch for the next thing that might take me by surprise. If you had asked me then, I would have said, I’m fine, but I was unplugged from my feelings. And unconsciously I internalized the stress, which materialized in cold sore outbreaks, passing out regularly and, after I hit puberty, cystic acne.
The Revolving Door
This vigilance turned to a numb feeling when I was thirteen, and mom became a full time foster parent. A full time commitment to unpredictable change in the house. It instilled in me a value of always helping others, which of course is good. My bedroom and my sisters’ old bedrooms served as both respite and long term spots for girls (four at any one time) who needed a placement. Sometimes they’d stay a day, a month or for years. I never knew. All had lives more challenging than mine, so any struggles I felt were moot. Mom continued to be a foster parent for ten years after I left home. One time we did a tally and figured there had been a total of 87 girls who lived with us.
What kind of Rituals do you practice?
Not until I turned fifty and started to make some internal health changes, did I realize that I needed rituals and routines—a way to care for myself daily. I wanted belief in myself the way those Robin parents called to their babies. What could those rituals look like? Some of the first ones I taught myself: Making my bed. Drinking water and coffee in the morning. And, doing those things consciously. In California, daily movement was swimming at the local high school pool before sunrise or hiking behind my house in the Eucalyptus groves—again, consciously. Now, its meditation, some yoga movement, getting in water, pulling a tarot card writing for myself, and waking up before everyone else to feed the animals and clean up the house. I don’t feel dread or excitement before, during or after these things. They are automatic, and afterwards, I feel ready, poised for the day. Whatever it might bring.
The Science Behind Rituals
Scientific literature continues to build a case for the healing power of personal and group rituals. Personally, these practices have worked cumulatively to over time ground and heal my chaotic mind and destress my body. How so? When recent sudden changes or hard news has arrived, I notice my thoughts, my body’s response, and I give myself time. I’m not rattled or stuck in thought loops. Or, if I am a little pinched, it passes quickly. Rituals of any kind or frequency (prayers, coffee alone, staring at or immersing yourself in nature, beginning of end of life rituals, cleaning the grave of a loved one who has passed, sports rituals, yoga, a good jog, etc.) provide mental and emotional stability.
A New Addition
A few days ago, Michael and Lazlo rode bikes down our dirt road to the grocery store to pick up a few items. Lazlo found a little black puppy alone in the road. I was home tutoring. We weren’t looking for a puppy, and lately, I had been firm about not taking on any more expenses. But there stood Michael outside my office door with a look of sweet openness and concern. He showed me this little face. I didn’t need to process concern or future worries about finances. I knew. With that empty nest outside the window behind me, I asked to hold his tiny body. Later, Michael commented how he was surprised I didn’t hesitate or talk about the time or money aspects of taking on a new pet. I replied, “I just knew.”
Caring for “Potter” (He had a Harry Potter zigzag scar, which turned out to be dirt.) is now a new part of my daily ritual. How are the other animals responding? Shakira is happy to have a playmate. Monica, as you can anticipate, isn’t thrilled, but she’s an equal opportunity hater of all other animals. But we are making sure Monica, Shakira, Ike and Izzy all feel our love and attention each day. And, they can count on us to be part of their lives daily.