The best thing to happen in my little corner of the world during this universally shitty year is that, through luck and friendship, I’ve found myself living in a light-filled apartment, and right now the sun is rising and the whole room’s gone golden bright.
I’ve been thinking about ritual — about little pleasant daily rituals, about more introspective lunar rituals, about (when we’re allowed to gather again) seasonal community rituals (celebrations, holidays, shared meals). Particularly when it comes to the little daily ones: there’s something inherently more appealing to me about this concept of crafting rituals than in the attempts at “building good habits,” “creating structure in a workday,” that kind of popular dialogue (especially at this time of year) about self-betterment. Even if they boil down to the same actions in practice. (Or in praxis. That’s a new word for me. Does it mean something distinct from practice? More of customs/practices than, say, practicing the clarinet?)
But I suppose the difference lies in intent: am I optimizing myself as if I’m a machine, a cog in the capitalist engine? (Listen, who knows if there are cogs in engines? Many, many people who are not me.) Or am I creating containers (a term I’ve heard from Chani Nicholas, from Shawn Hitchins that I’m trying out) that suit me and allow for flow, play, dilly-dallying, comfort, progress? It feels like that’s a crucial, foundational difference.
In the meantime, in between time, I’m trying on the ‘write in the morning’ thing. Coffee, a spot that is not my normal work-for-money spot, and I write. Write what? At this point, I don’t know and I’m trying not to care. A rambling journal entry, a rambling blog post. The point is the praxis/practice. Trying it on, does it fit?, tinker and tailor. (No soldier, no spy.)
Full moon tonight, and in its home in Cancer, which happens to be where the moon was when I was born. Yes, I am astrologically bragging; I am also a Leo sun. Point being (besides my auspicious moon), look up tonight.