This weekend I went to the first real wedding of my adult life. I was probably five years old the last time I attended one and the only thing I can remember was crying at the bouquet toss.
Flash forward to this past Saturday and I’m in Chicago, watching little kids run under tables in tiny suits. I was the adult attempting small talk around the cheese display. Already it was set up to be an out of body experience.
At the reception my bf and I were assigned to a table with a handful of my cousins and their partners. After we took our seats, I looked around the decorated hall. We were supposed to be there from 4 - 10 pm, but as I tried to envision what would happen over the next six hours, I felt at a loss. One of my cousins and her girlfriend have been making the rounds at various weddings and knew all the possible peaks in the reception. They wondered aloud if a bouquet would be thrown and who, in attendance, would be most likely to catch it. I loved hearing the anticipation mapped out onto certain moments, each one a symbol of matrimony and shared love.
From my perspective, the evening was exactly what a wedding should be.
The bride cried during the vows, I cried during the vows.
They cut the cake, we ate the cake.
Speeches were made, striking the balance between funny and poignant.
The couple danced, we danced. My uncle danced with everyone.
No bouquet was thrown, which was very merciful towards the millennial couples in the room.
It was a ceremony in every sense of the word. While I enjoyed it thoroughly, I couldn’t help but feel like an outsider in a house of worship. I almost wanted to turn to the table of cousins and get an honest report on how invested they were feeling. In those moments of collective celebration, it helps to have a reference point or two.
When the bride and groom performed their first dance, I was struck by how our longest traditions have maintained traceable patterns. It’s necessary for their survival. Because we know the routine, we’re willing to step into the role.
Our experiences—especially the big ones—are more impactful when we’ve been there before, or seen someone close go through it too. A sense of fulfillment seems eminent. Being in the now is great and all, but sometimes connecting the dots across timelines can make everything feel more rich. The past can work for us and against us.
The continuation of these traditions must be driven by both our love for collective nostalgia and deep need for ritual. I’ve accepted the fact that my formative years didn’t provide much fuel for nostalgia, (and thus the disconnect at times can be real) but at any point in life a ritual can be made.
I flew back from Chicago in a middle seat, pondering my future in between podcast episodes. It’s been almost five weeks since I released my booklet and during that time so much has happened but I don’t have a tangible sense of anything right now. Everything is very much in the works. This has left me feeling somewhat unmoored and I’ve been searching for the missing piece that helped anchor me for so many months. I got off the plane and schlepped my way back to the car, still pondering. As I inched along the 10 freeway on the way home from the airport, I realized The Big Thing that I let slip through the cracks: my morning meetings.
They started as a way to keep up with my to-do list, but evolved into a legitimate meeting with myself at the beginning of every day, to ensure I met the booklet release. While I knew it was a grounding process, it didn’t feel like anything special. So, the daily meetings fell away without fanfare when the booklet was complete.
But without them I’m at sea!! Yesterday I filled up my yellow notebook with meeting musings and felt a sense of myself return in a big way. With no pages to spare in my trusty yellow companion, I immediately went to the stationary store for a replacement. This one has more pages but is still lightweight.
Who knew these meetings helped me chart my time and place in space—no small feat. I’m back into it now and back to using my ritual trackers to stay committed to it, week by week. You may have seen them in my instagram stories, when I move them into different configurations along my windowsill.
I started calling them ritual trackers very casually, but from where I stand now, the name means more than I had initially intended. We tend to refer to our repetitive daily activities routines or habits, but I think that undercuts their importance in our lives. Routine has a bad connotation, it’s practically synonymous with “boring task”. Ritual however, has a sacred tone. It reminds us of the gravity of our actions. Life is made of ritual, big and small. Each deserves reverence.
As an offering to the little things, I decided to make these ritual trackers to order on my website, if you want to join in with me.
Whatever you do, find a way to connect the disparate dots with a single thread of intentional action. If we’re lucky, our rituals will grow substantial enough to foster future nostalgia. And just like that, this limited time offer human experience becomes a little more fun to participate in.
That’s all for today, I’ll see subscribers on Friday and everyone else on Sunday with Moments for Now. Don’t forget to send in your submission to:
momentsfornow@gmail.com
xx
James
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