Rituals That Carry Us

Weekly wisdom to level up your creative life in 3 minutes.

A SHORT STORY

This past Friday, I got married.

We were lucky to have my dear friend Patrick as our officiant.

During the ceremony, he quoted the great mythologist Joseph Campbell, and I’ve been thinking about it ever since:

"Marriage is not a simple love affair; it’s an ordeal, and the ordeal is the sacrifice of ego to a relationship in which two have become one."

Hearing that, I realized how much of what we did in preparing for the day—the clothes, the first look, the gathering of friends and family to bear witness, the breaking of bread, the speeches—was itself a ritual designed to soften the ego and help us step into the reality of becoming “one.”

Through it all, I felt deep gratitude for the individuals who went before me, who now uphold this sacrament.

And, of course, I reflected on how many invisible rituals guide us throughout our lives—subtle practices that point us toward our truest selves.

As I feel the ring on my finger now, I sense not only the weight of this commitment but the invisible rituals—past, present, and future—that guide us toward each other. In that guidance, I find both a profound gratitude and a quiet wonder for the life it calls to us, reminding me that perhaps, if we pause and notice, we can see the invisible rituals guiding us all.

Which daily or hidden practices quietly guide your path?

A POEM

“The Truelove” by David Whyte

There is a faith in loving fiercely
the one who is rightfully yours,
especially if you have
waited years and especially
if part of you never believed
you could deserve this
loved and beckoning hand
held out to you this way.

I am thinking of faith now
and the testaments of loneliness
and what we feel we are
worthy of in this world.

Years ago in the Hebrides
I remember an old man
who walked every morning
on the grey stones
to the shore of the baying seals,

who would press his hat
to his chest in the blustering
salt wind and say his prayer
to the turbulent Jesus
hidden in the water,

and I think of the story
of the storm and everyone
waking and seeing
the distant
yet familiar figure
far across the water
calling to them,

and how we are all
preparing for that
abrupt waking,
and that calling,
and that moment
we have to say yes,
except it will
not come so grandly,
so Biblically,
but more subtly
and intimately in the face
of the one you know
you have to love,

so that when we finally step out of the boat
toward them, we find
everything holds
us, and confirms
our courage, and if you wanted
to drown you could,
but you don’t

because finally
after all the struggle
and all the years,
you don’t want to any more,
you’ve simply had enough
of drowning
and you want to live and you
want to love and you will
walk across any territory
and any darkness,
however fluid and however
dangerous, to take the
one hand you know
belongs in yours.

Grateful,

Michael