The Power of Ritual

 A few weeks ago, I went to my brother’s wedding with inadequate emotional preparation.  I thought, “it’ll be cool.”  Like most families with real pasts and real scars, we all get a little nervous before reunions.  But every single one of us came with faith, love, and our best selves.  It was far more poignant than I’d anticipated.  

Everyone got up to the mic sharing stories of what the bride or groom were like when they were kids.  Their awkwardness, competitiveness, fierce curiosity, sense of adventure, and love of science.  There was so much love to share that other people were talking us down from the mic.

This couple had thrown a party.  You’ve never seen so many white people of all generations dance their hearts out.  Even people who didn’t know how to dance were moving their bodies to the rhythm.  At one point my mom and I simply high-fived each other with both hands to the beat, with nothing but joy.

And it wasn’t just a good time.  It was a catalyst for healing.  At one point, I was joking around with the person next to me that I was going to dance inappropriately.  My parents were in front of me.  I said, “I’m just joking.  I’m not going to murder my parents tonight.”  My Mom turned around and said, “Lis, you just be you.”

I proceeded to cry for the next ten minutes.  No one knows how special that moment was, or how many years of reaching we’d both done to get there.  

Everyone deserves this type of celebration, whether or not they find someone resembling a “soulmate.”  Everyone deserves their loved ones to make a trip, dress up, read them speeches about how much they love them, and eat cake.  God knows lots of people who shouldn’t get married do, just because the wedding is such a beautiful and validating experience.

There’s something transcendent about a good ritual.  It connects us to our ancestors.  We are choosing to perform the same symbolic actions to communicate powerful intentions, even if those intentions have had different cultural contexts or stakes.  Like the way monogamous marriage used to be about land, children, and dowries.  The changes that birth control and working women threw into the milieu.  

Through all that, we still fall in love and desire each other.  We still need a trusted friend to fall crying into on a hard day, and make us laugh when we need it.  I looked at the faces of my brother and new sister-in-law at the front of the room, and saw millions of faces behind them, millions of eyes looking at each other with anticipation and trust.  A pulse of eternity was in the room.

But rituals should also evolve with us, like everything else.  Right now, you can have as many weddings and divorces as you want.  You can live in a commune with seven lovers.  You can live by yourself in complete wholeness.  And you can have a party whenever, and for whatever reason suits you.  Symbolic acts and tradition aren’t the only way to feel connected to history and humanity, but if you find it as meaningful and meditative as I do, it’s important to make it your own.

An act as simple as lighting a fire and singing a song can connect you to millions of ancestors.  It’s their gift to you.  So do it whenever you need to feel their presence.