Rituals

I miss ritual. My days are dry, especially in winter, being in America without ritual. My nights are hard and long.

My years of living on earth, in Asia, are well-integrated in rituals, as far as my vivid memory displays to me. I am away from my land for a few years and realize that most of my challenging times of adjusting to the new environment, America, Vermont, Burlington, or here in Washington DC, to live without acquiring a sense of having a ritual as a part of my growth. Something is missing.

Ritual plays a meaningful part of my, spiritual, growth. Ritual embraces a time of reflecting, gathering of community in a very sacred space and time. Ritual calms and nourishes my spirit. Ritual advises me to see, think and feel beyond my ignorance. Ritual provokes my sleeping inner child. Ritual becomes an invisible part of my move. Both formal and informal ritual signifies thought-provoking messages.

Simple but refined ritual that I always miss is to “wai”, a gesture of paying respect to the elders by putting your palms together on a chest level, in a lotus shape and bending your forehead to touch the tip of the fingers, my parents before going to school or going out anywhere. What does ritual do to me in this context? Going to school is an exciting and challenging time for kids. When I wai my parents before going to school, they touch my head, smile and often provides verbally support to me. Their hands to my heads send a very warm vibe to my day. It is a time of parenting. They told me to be a good girl, pay attention to classes, work hard, be patient towards things that I don’t like, and be nice to others. It is the blessing morning time. I am ready to face the world. I feel gregarious.

The result of this ritual turns to be a major part of my life. The simple act of wai stimulates me to be humble as my head bound lower, to the earth, observing thoroughly into my unrefined actions. Ritual grounds me.