I go in every three weeks to get infusions for my ongoing cancer treatment. Every time, I stop at the nearby coffee shop and treat myself to a yummy coffee and a breakfast sandwich. A minor celebration, but one that I look forward to and that helps the day feel brighter.
Ah, my dear friend, thank you for sharing. Yes, and those minor celebrations often help us keep going, day by day, week by week, three weeks by three weeks. Sounds delightful - you will need to share with me sometime which coffee shop! Maybe we will need to grab a bite sometime 🩵
Thanks for this reminder to notice the small things….
Every morning, when I get up, I wash my hands. As I do, I invite a blessing for the day, say “ Good morning” to God. This small act somehow grounds me for the day… then I go and say “good morning”, to my little dog, who turns himself over for a scratch, and knows it’s nearly walk time. Then, a few moments of quiet thought for those I have promised to think about/pray for, then coffee and cryptic crossword.
This ritual sustained me through the difficult time of my partner’s illness and death, and sustains me now as I face a different life, different home, different days…. It helps me feel grateful, connected and brings a quiet joy in the midst of all the other things going on.
This makes great sense! Reading this has reminded me of what is missing in my days. I use to drink morning tea, but don’t seem to enjoy the taste much anymore. The closest I have to a ritual is sitting outside and listening to the birds singing. I adore that, but don’t do it consistently enough as I wish I did.
My love of coffee has changed over the years, and I have switched it out for tea a time or two. Our tastes change!
What a lovely ritual - yes, sitting and listening to the birds singing is delightful. I have a robin at my new home that is a lovely singer in the mornings. 🩵
Maybe this is a sign to go out a listen, even for a few moments, today :)
You and I share the same morning ritual! I make a pour-over coffee every morning rather than Kuerig , but I also use the opportunity to pause and be totally in the moment. As I pour the water out of the tea pot, I watch the glistening flow and try to be very patient because I pour the water very slowly. It’s a great way to start the day, isn’t it? 😊🙏
I'm glad we do! In my old house, I had a lot more room in my kitchen, and so I had a more robust coffee ritual (I have a manual espresso machine, and I'd hand-pull shots for a perfect americano).
There is something about that ritual that simply grounds me. It's just perfect. It's a perfect way to start the day. 🩵
I forgot to add that your coffee ritual reminds me of Thich Nhat Hanh's quote "Making a cup of green tea I stop the war'. The conscious awareness in each step of making the tea is an opportunity for peace. I love it.
Well, as usual, Alex, a story came to mind as I read your article today.
Regarding the "stupid socks" as an absurd juxtaposition to cancer treatment:
When Sarah had her first major surgery, the cranial vault reconstruction, at the age of six months, Ben and I accompanied the post-op nurses to the PICU at our children's hospital until we arrived in Sarah's room. While still standing in the doorway, I peered in at Sarah, still groggy but with her head badly swollen and face bruised, dried blood caked on her gauzy turban, Ben turned around and asked the nurse, "Hey, how big are your diapers? I was thinking I don't want to get up during the football game."
I cannot tell you how embarrassed I was that he blurted that out, but...medical humor. The nurse burst out laughing and said, "You'd be surprised. We do have adult sizes," and then she walked away.
Ben has this uncanny ability to bring levity to a heavy situation, while I tend to sit in the tension and discomfort of that heaviness. I think both are good in different ways.
Anyway, that's the story that came to mind I thought I'd share in your space today.
And I have my "morning tea" ritual much like your morning coffee ritual: I rotate among jasmine pearl (with one heaping teaspoon of stevia), raw cacao, and some type of ginger/green combo. That first sip feels sacred. It's like I'm starting on a blank page, and I always linger a moment to savor that. Even a few seconds feels like an incredible gift.
Hahaha, I can't believe he said that! I would be mortified! But, some people definitely get away with that humor. And they certainly can lighten the space so nicely. Thank you for sharing that delightful little story! 🩵
Oh your morning tea sounds soooooo delicious. I think many of us have a similar ritual with a different morning beverage. I had a hunch going into this that some of us would. A morning beverage is such a nice place to pause. Be present. And I love your words - "starting on a blank page." Such a beautiful description.
Thank you, Nancy, for sharing. Death does rearrange and change our routines and rituals. I can completely relate to feeling like they don't feel right doing them alone. I'm so glad you are working to recreate a new morning ritual for yourself. Time is on your side! One will come together that will honor where you are at. 🩵
Deeply wonderful. While I was reflecting on my rituals, I paused to notice how they've changed over time. And then I stopped on one in particular and thought how well it served me in one of the most intense times of my life across a couple of years and why I simply cannot go back to it. Its time was spent, it served its purpose, and it carries the memory.
What a lovely reflection. Thank you for sharing! Some rituals are purpose built for the moment. We don't have to go back to them. They helped us. We can remember them. Thank them. And leave them in the past with gratitude. 🩵
Forgive the lateness of this comment, I've gotten behind in reading email (again). Life has been busy, and I've been away from my desk a lot this past month.
My rituals have become routine, so I don't recognize them as such. In thinking about your piece, I have rediscovered several. My rituals/routines also provide stability in a chaotic household where my spouse is experiencing cognitive issues, and mental decline which makes him moody and unpredictable. My most oft repeated is setting up the coffee. I always do it in the same order, fill the water, grind the beans, set the coffee maker to brew. Then I get my favorite mug (the one with the horses on it from PBS), and my spouse's travel mug ( it won't spill if he drops it or knocks it off the table). Then I fill the small clay pitcher with my fresh dairy cream, straight from the cow, and pull the syrups off the shelf to pour. It's all done by rote, now, but I feel a certain satisfaction when I look at the counter and see all the coffee makin's ready to go. Thank you for this, Love, Virg
Hello, my friend! You can read whenever you can! I'm just so grateful you take the time :) I get behind all the time. 🩵 I'm so glad this piece has helped to rediscover a few of your rituals! In writing, I rediscovered a few for myself too. I think so many of us can be connected to each other, in the morning with a coffee ritual. It seems to be a fairly universal experience. 🩵 Thank you for sharing yours. I love your favorite mug with horses! And I'm jealous about fresh dairy cream - you cannot beat straight from the cow. I just can't find that anywhere anymore.
Thank you for reading, Virg. I always appreciate your comments. More than you know! 🩵
Your essay, The Tiny Rituals That Hold Us When Everything Else Comes Undone, beautifully captures the profound impact of small, personal rituals in navigating life's uncertainties. Your reflections on how these seemingly mundane practices—like making coffee or arranging objects—serve as anchors during turbulent times resonate deeply. It's a poignant reminder that resilience often lies in the gentle, consistent acts we perform daily, offering us a sense of stability and presence amidst chaos.
I felt this one in my soul. Something deeply human about what you talk about.
“They're not grand solutions to life's difficulties. They're modest sanctuaries we've stitched by hand into our daily existence. Tiny spaces where we can slip our fingers and touch something familiar when everything else feels foreign.”
I agree: rituals don’t have to be pompous. They can be as small as making coffee the same way every morning. With full presence.
I hope this piece reminds people of this and inspired them to insert more intentionality, through ritual, into their life. At the end of the day, we give meaning to this chaos we live, and rituals are a magical way to do so. 🙏
Beautifully written as usual, Alexander. Reminds me of after my husband died, and I promised myself that if I managed to make the bed (ie pull up the duvet) it would be significant in that I wouldn't have gone completely insane with grief. It didn't matter how messy the rest of the house was (and it was), if the bed was made, I was okay, at least relatively.
Now, my early morning ritual is to rise, don the same clothes, make a cup of hot water and lemon, do some yoga, then go for a walk. Sometimes the order of these things change, depending on the time of year. But it always provides a container for my day to flow out of, and that makes a huge difference to how I experience it.
I have one cup for coffee, one cup for cracking eggs, one for soup and they all live in certain places on the the mug rack. It feels good when my head is chaotic. Like you say, humble, everyday certainties that we have some control over.
I love this essay! Rituals are indeed so important to give us comfort in the regular routines of life. There are so many wise quotables in your essay, but I chose this one: "What we call coping mechanisms are really just love letters to our future selves." I really embrace the idea of these mechanisms as love letters. What a wonderful metaphor. And very fitting, too.
For me, I enjoy my coffee ritual and take in the smell of the coffee (I also use a Keurig). I feed my cat, and then take my coffee to an end table while I sit on my comfy chair and write in my journal. I need this journal time to let my thoughts spill out over the page.
I go in every three weeks to get infusions for my ongoing cancer treatment. Every time, I stop at the nearby coffee shop and treat myself to a yummy coffee and a breakfast sandwich. A minor celebration, but one that I look forward to and that helps the day feel brighter.
Ah, my dear friend, thank you for sharing. Yes, and those minor celebrations often help us keep going, day by day, week by week, three weeks by three weeks. Sounds delightful - you will need to share with me sometime which coffee shop! Maybe we will need to grab a bite sometime 🩵
Thanks for this reminder to notice the small things….
Every morning, when I get up, I wash my hands. As I do, I invite a blessing for the day, say “ Good morning” to God. This small act somehow grounds me for the day… then I go and say “good morning”, to my little dog, who turns himself over for a scratch, and knows it’s nearly walk time. Then, a few moments of quiet thought for those I have promised to think about/pray for, then coffee and cryptic crossword.
This ritual sustained me through the difficult time of my partner’s illness and death, and sustains me now as I face a different life, different home, different days…. It helps me feel grateful, connected and brings a quiet joy in the midst of all the other things going on.
Best wishes to you❤️🕯️
What a beautiful ritual, Bernadette. I can imagine how grounding that must be. Thank you for sharing a glimpse into your morning. 🩵
This makes great sense! Reading this has reminded me of what is missing in my days. I use to drink morning tea, but don’t seem to enjoy the taste much anymore. The closest I have to a ritual is sitting outside and listening to the birds singing. I adore that, but don’t do it consistently enough as I wish I did.
My love of coffee has changed over the years, and I have switched it out for tea a time or two. Our tastes change!
What a lovely ritual - yes, sitting and listening to the birds singing is delightful. I have a robin at my new home that is a lovely singer in the mornings. 🩵
Maybe this is a sign to go out a listen, even for a few moments, today :)
Very nice, Alex. Very well written and enjoyable!
You and I share the same morning ritual! I make a pour-over coffee every morning rather than Kuerig , but I also use the opportunity to pause and be totally in the moment. As I pour the water out of the tea pot, I watch the glistening flow and try to be very patient because I pour the water very slowly. It’s a great way to start the day, isn’t it? 😊🙏
Thank you, Don. That means a lot!
I'm glad we do! In my old house, I had a lot more room in my kitchen, and so I had a more robust coffee ritual (I have a manual espresso machine, and I'd hand-pull shots for a perfect americano).
There is something about that ritual that simply grounds me. It's just perfect. It's a perfect way to start the day. 🩵
I forgot to add that your coffee ritual reminds me of Thich Nhat Hanh's quote "Making a cup of green tea I stop the war'. The conscious awareness in each step of making the tea is an opportunity for peace. I love it.
Well, as usual, Alex, a story came to mind as I read your article today.
Regarding the "stupid socks" as an absurd juxtaposition to cancer treatment:
When Sarah had her first major surgery, the cranial vault reconstruction, at the age of six months, Ben and I accompanied the post-op nurses to the PICU at our children's hospital until we arrived in Sarah's room. While still standing in the doorway, I peered in at Sarah, still groggy but with her head badly swollen and face bruised, dried blood caked on her gauzy turban, Ben turned around and asked the nurse, "Hey, how big are your diapers? I was thinking I don't want to get up during the football game."
I cannot tell you how embarrassed I was that he blurted that out, but...medical humor. The nurse burst out laughing and said, "You'd be surprised. We do have adult sizes," and then she walked away.
Ben has this uncanny ability to bring levity to a heavy situation, while I tend to sit in the tension and discomfort of that heaviness. I think both are good in different ways.
Anyway, that's the story that came to mind I thought I'd share in your space today.
And I have my "morning tea" ritual much like your morning coffee ritual: I rotate among jasmine pearl (with one heaping teaspoon of stevia), raw cacao, and some type of ginger/green combo. That first sip feels sacred. It's like I'm starting on a blank page, and I always linger a moment to savor that. Even a few seconds feels like an incredible gift.
Hahaha, I can't believe he said that! I would be mortified! But, some people definitely get away with that humor. And they certainly can lighten the space so nicely. Thank you for sharing that delightful little story! 🩵
Oh your morning tea sounds soooooo delicious. I think many of us have a similar ritual with a different morning beverage. I had a hunch going into this that some of us would. A morning beverage is such a nice place to pause. Be present. And I love your words - "starting on a blank page." Such a beautiful description.
When our Sheila died It disrupted several morning rituals we had together. Not only had she died, routines and rituals were blown apart.
Doing them alone does not feel right.
Slowly... I am building a new morning ritual.
One I would like to get back to, but have not yet manage recreate it.
Time is on my side... for now.
Thank you, Nancy, for sharing. Death does rearrange and change our routines and rituals. I can completely relate to feeling like they don't feel right doing them alone. I'm so glad you are working to recreate a new morning ritual for yourself. Time is on your side! One will come together that will honor where you are at. 🩵
Deeply wonderful. While I was reflecting on my rituals, I paused to notice how they've changed over time. And then I stopped on one in particular and thought how well it served me in one of the most intense times of my life across a couple of years and why I simply cannot go back to it. Its time was spent, it served its purpose, and it carries the memory.
What a lovely reflection. Thank you for sharing! Some rituals are purpose built for the moment. We don't have to go back to them. They helped us. We can remember them. Thank them. And leave them in the past with gratitude. 🩵
Forgive the lateness of this comment, I've gotten behind in reading email (again). Life has been busy, and I've been away from my desk a lot this past month.
My rituals have become routine, so I don't recognize them as such. In thinking about your piece, I have rediscovered several. My rituals/routines also provide stability in a chaotic household where my spouse is experiencing cognitive issues, and mental decline which makes him moody and unpredictable. My most oft repeated is setting up the coffee. I always do it in the same order, fill the water, grind the beans, set the coffee maker to brew. Then I get my favorite mug (the one with the horses on it from PBS), and my spouse's travel mug ( it won't spill if he drops it or knocks it off the table). Then I fill the small clay pitcher with my fresh dairy cream, straight from the cow, and pull the syrups off the shelf to pour. It's all done by rote, now, but I feel a certain satisfaction when I look at the counter and see all the coffee makin's ready to go. Thank you for this, Love, Virg
Hello, my friend! You can read whenever you can! I'm just so grateful you take the time :) I get behind all the time. 🩵 I'm so glad this piece has helped to rediscover a few of your rituals! In writing, I rediscovered a few for myself too. I think so many of us can be connected to each other, in the morning with a coffee ritual. It seems to be a fairly universal experience. 🩵 Thank you for sharing yours. I love your favorite mug with horses! And I'm jealous about fresh dairy cream - you cannot beat straight from the cow. I just can't find that anywhere anymore.
Thank you for reading, Virg. I always appreciate your comments. More than you know! 🩵
I could listen to your voice non stop.. its so soothing.
Dawwwww, thank you, my friend 🩵
Your essay, The Tiny Rituals That Hold Us When Everything Else Comes Undone, beautifully captures the profound impact of small, personal rituals in navigating life's uncertainties. Your reflections on how these seemingly mundane practices—like making coffee or arranging objects—serve as anchors during turbulent times resonate deeply. It's a poignant reminder that resilience often lies in the gentle, consistent acts we perform daily, offering us a sense of stability and presence amidst chaos.
I felt this one in my soul. Something deeply human about what you talk about.
“They're not grand solutions to life's difficulties. They're modest sanctuaries we've stitched by hand into our daily existence. Tiny spaces where we can slip our fingers and touch something familiar when everything else feels foreign.”
I agree: rituals don’t have to be pompous. They can be as small as making coffee the same way every morning. With full presence.
I hope this piece reminds people of this and inspired them to insert more intentionality, through ritual, into their life. At the end of the day, we give meaning to this chaos we live, and rituals are a magical way to do so. 🙏
I love this reminder that rituals don’t have to be meaningful to anyone else. They just have to work. Cheers, Alex
Beautifully written as usual, Alexander. Reminds me of after my husband died, and I promised myself that if I managed to make the bed (ie pull up the duvet) it would be significant in that I wouldn't have gone completely insane with grief. It didn't matter how messy the rest of the house was (and it was), if the bed was made, I was okay, at least relatively.
Now, my early morning ritual is to rise, don the same clothes, make a cup of hot water and lemon, do some yoga, then go for a walk. Sometimes the order of these things change, depending on the time of year. But it always provides a container for my day to flow out of, and that makes a huge difference to how I experience it.
Beautiful
I have one cup for coffee, one cup for cracking eggs, one for soup and they all live in certain places on the the mug rack. It feels good when my head is chaotic. Like you say, humble, everyday certainties that we have some control over.
Hi Alex,
I love this essay! Rituals are indeed so important to give us comfort in the regular routines of life. There are so many wise quotables in your essay, but I chose this one: "What we call coping mechanisms are really just love letters to our future selves." I really embrace the idea of these mechanisms as love letters. What a wonderful metaphor. And very fitting, too.
For me, I enjoy my coffee ritual and take in the smell of the coffee (I also use a Keurig). I feed my cat, and then take my coffee to an end table while I sit on my comfy chair and write in my journal. I need this journal time to let my thoughts spill out over the page.
Thank you for this excellent, insightful post.