#22 Rituals - Olivia

The ritual is a rare bird.

It's the bizarre cousin of tradition and habit that fraternizes with a more serious edge.  It lacks the same nonchalance (in my estimation) as garden variety "routine," but it also seems more habitual and quirky than the idea of tradition.  The word ritual invokes a certain sacred nature for me.  I think of Egyptians, to be honest.  Rituals seem like they need outfits, but I'm probably just confusing that for basic preparation.

I suppose a ritual doesn't have to include virginal sacrifice, but I do think it should hold a little pomp.   Even the most seemingly trivial rituals can hold a note of ceremony if you do it right. 

While I hesitate to say that I don't have any personal rituals, they are certainly few and far between.  Perhaps writing on this blog counts as a ritual?  But even then, we can see I was thrown off by the holidays (don't worry folks, you'll get those posts back.)  Other than that, I'm stumped to think of my own rituals.  I feel like I had several when I was young, but some how grew out of them. 

When I was young, I remember after school rituals best.  After school, I would come to my grandparents house, pick up the remote and watch very specific television shows.  My sister and I would watch the same television shows until they stopped airing, and then we would move on and find something else.  I'm pretty sure I watched the entirety of The Power Rangers at my grandmother's house.  I also saw the rise and fall of The Rosie O'Donnell Show.  But what made this mere habit of watching shows after school into a full blown ritual would be presence and sanctity of the Schwann man treats. 

If I was aware of my grandparents being superb at something, it was their taste in treats for their grandchildren.  Otter pops, Push-pops, Creamsicles, Mini cups filled with all kinds of frozen delights, and most hallowed of all, the Mississippi Mud bar.  

But eventually, the after school ritual came to an abrupt end when I switched schools in 7th grade.  And really, nothing came to replace it.  Since then, I've been a "fly by the seat of my pants" kinda gal.  I get antsy with monotony.  I change my hair all the time and crave the thrill of something new. 

That said, I do admire the ritual and generally like the idea, but I'm just not sure where it would fit in my life. 

Maybe that should be a 2011 goal?

Goals of 2011 thus far:

1) Read constantly.
2) Write just as often.
3) Try foods I remember disliking.
4) Learn to sew.
5) Get hair cuts regularly.
6) Speak jive.
7) Get on a regular sleeping schedule.
8) Thoughtfully create rituals. 

#22 Rituals -- Don

There are two kinds of rituals: the religious ceremonies that follow a particular pattern and which are meant to produce a specific spiritual result and the secular routines we fall into by habit.  Because it’s a new year and I’m already feeling grumpy about what it’s going to take to survive the winter ahead, I’m going to stay away from discussing the religious type of rituals and stick to those ordinary habits that we so often fall into.  I figure that grumpy begets grumpy and if I grouse about religion today, I’ll only incur that much more grumpiness.

Like pretty much everything else in life, rituals are beneficial when they help us get through our day and are obnoxious when they stand in the way of where we want to go.  My morning rituals, for example, are good because by having a set pattern for my morning activities, I don’t have to think too much about what I need to do next.  Perhaps I’m like a lot of people, but my brain isn’t interested in doing any heavy lifting until it’s got a little coffee lubricating its gears. Furthermore, during the school year, I don’t allow myself to have any coffee until after I arrive at work (this practice helps to motivate me to get out the door and on the road), so I need my morning rituals to help me get through mornings without leaving behind the work keys or my wallet while, at the same time, not overtaxing a brain that is going to grind its transmission if I try to force it into first gear before it’s sufficiently warmed up.

My morning rituals help keep me moving forward without the need to try and remember what I’ve got to do next.  I never have to wonder if I brushed my teeth this morning because I always brush my teeth after I put on the deodorant.  I don’t have to wonder if I remembered to put on the deodorant because I always do that first thing after toweling off from the shower.  If I’m getting dressed and I’m not soaking wet, I can assume I’ve also brushed my teeth and put on the deodorant.  See?  No heavy lifting for the brain that still wants to go back to bed even when it only vaguely understands that there’s still breakfast and socks to deal with.

My best rituals come at the gas station.  If at all possible, I try to buy my gas at Speedway because I like the special routine of signing in at the pump with their customer rewards card.  Now, everyone who knows me knows that I can be cheap about a lot of things.  Back when I was a kid, gas stations used to give away plates and towels as customer loyalty reward gifts, but I’m grateful to live in the 21^st century because I don’t want a free towel or a plate (or even a roadmap), I want a free hot dog or a free slice of pizza.  And, from time to time, that’s what Speedway gives me. 

They also give me a free fountain drink about every five times I buy gas because part of my Speedway ritual is buying a Diet Pepsi at the fountain.  So while other people might find the whole extra motion of putting in an additional card into the pump a bother, I like it.  I like to stand there while the pump is thinking it over after I’ve put in my Speedy card and read the message, “Processing Customer Loyalty.”  It’s almost like the gas pump itself is an old friend when it flashes my name on its screen, “Welcome, Don Dudding.”  Of course, my old friend knows my name but goes on to tempt me to buy two bags of Fritos for an extra 200 points.  “Sorry, Gas Pump, not today.  I’m just here for the gas, the Diet Pepsi, and a free hot dog if you spit a coupon out at me for a free hot dog.”  Although the free hot dog (or slice of pizza) coupon only occasionally comes at the cash register after I’ve paid, it comes often enough to keep me coming back.  Sometimes that free hot dog is enough to persuade me to go ahead and get those two bags of Fritos so I can garner those 200 bonus points.  I mean it; anyone who doesn’t love bonus points is a communist.

I have on occasion tried to buy gas and not get the Diet Pepsi at the fountain.  It just doesn’t work.  I drive away feeling deprived and it’s difficult to steer through the tears streaming down my cheeks.  It’s as though the truck got its beverage so I need one too.  Of course, I can live without the hot dog or the pizza because I’m going to wait for a free one. 

I was going to stay away from commenting on religious rituals, but in closing I’m finding it hard to end this blog without pointing out that the spiritual benefits of religious ceremonies are sometimes difficult to point to and say definitively “this is what I got out of that,” but my gas station rituals, on the other hand, have had their ontology proven time and again with chili sauce, mustard, and onions.