Rituals on Repeat

There’s a beautiful seaside town in southern India named Pondicherry. Colonized by the French until the 1950’s. The French Quarter lined with mustard colored homes, exquisite gardens and bougainvillea draped from the walls. Large wooden doors intricately carved holding intrigue behind.

Pondicherry most beautiful at dawn.  Waking up at 5am walking the empty streets observing how people start their day. Finding tradition in basic tasks. Women wrapped in colorful saris hunched by the wooden doors pouring buckets of water to brush away yesterday’s dirt. A new day. While the ground damp, they sit with a bowl of rice flour and chalk to create mandalas, circles with intricate geometric lines. First a small pinch and then effortless sprinkles creating elaborate lines. Works of art. By mid morning the mandalas smudged by the feet of pedestrians. Washed away by afternoon rains leaving hints of what once was. Birds and ants carrying the rest. Nothing left by evening. The impermanence of life. Beauty temporary. Rice flour an offering to represent the unity of humans and Mother Nature. The next morning, it starts again.

Rituals teach us a lot. How do we start our day? Do we read something that opens the heart and mind? Is there an offering to something or someone bigger than us? I still wake up at 5am. Read something meaningful. Set an intention. Sometimes at my altar. Light incense. Rituals give us purpose. Pay attention. Create space to bring a deeper reverence to your life. Find purpose in the mundane. When I start my day with meaning and lose my way, I know I can always start again as rituals teach on repeat.