creating my own rituals.
learning rituals, letting go, and creating something new.
**Hi! I wanted to share a MuseLetter I put out a couple years ago, before I put my work on Substack. Re-reading it reminded me to keep leaning into my rituals and stay present for how they want to evolve. I hope you enjoy <3
originally published april 11th, 2023
The act of letting go is one that is extremely necessary for growth and transformation. But without guidance, it can feel very vague. What exactly does it mean to release something that is intangible?
I think this is why we need rituals. We are physical beings living in a physical reality. To make the intangible tangible, we need to do something…take some sort of action, involving our senses, that makes our intentions manifest.
Recently there has been a lot on my heart I’ve wanted to release. But exactly how to has been a question I’ve had to ask myself. My intentions alone weren’t enough. I needed a ritual.
My relationship with ritual has been a windy road…
I was brought up in a church that sort of denounced the idea of ritual. I was taught that rituals weren’t necessary, because “God is available to us at all times.” I was taught that we didn’t need to go through any motions to access the spiritual realm, because it was ever-present. And while I do believe there’s a lot of truth to this, deep down I was always longing for some way to feel like my prayers and intentions were real.
Additionally, I was raised by two born-again Christians whose spiritual lives were started from scratch by the time I was born. They didn’t pass down the traditions they were taught as children. I was given a foundation of knowing that God was always with me, but I still felt like there was a missing piece: practice. I didn’t grow up in an environment where spiritual or religious practice was modeled for me or passed down by elders.
My senses were longing to be involved in my spiritual process; simply using my mind to connect to God wasn’t enough. I craved a connection to the earth, to my body, and to the elements, in a way that wasn’t separate from my prayers, but an integral part of it.
My spiritual cravings were satiated when I found yoga. I was taught the importance of ritual, and how I could infuse my intention and attentive awareness into symbolic acts. I was shown traditions that had been practiced by yogis for thousands of years, like fire puja and mantra. For the first time, when I needed to release something, call something in, or pray for something, I now had practices I could learn and turn to that served as conduits for my intentions.
Several years into practicing with the community that showed me the power of ritual, I parted ways with them.
The reasons for this require a much longer letter, one I might write one day. But in essence, the teachings and culture of that community no longer aligned with who I wanted to be. I couldn’t keep growing there, so there was no other option but to leave.
Leaving that yoga community on one hand felt like a relief. On the other hand it was very difficult. It filled a role in my life that I had longed for for such a long time, and now I was on my own again. So I went inward, stopped listening to the voices of other teachers and gurus, and listened to my own voice as I guided myself through my spiritual practices. I sifted through all the things I learned from that community, and one by one decided what needed to be unlearned, thrown away, held onto, or rearranged.
Ritual was one of the pieces I needed to keep, but I had trouble figuring out how to reintegrate it into my life.
The way ritual was taught through yoga was very specific. It was passed down through a lineage of yogic practitioners who utilized the Sanskrit language, the yoga pantheon, and other elements that, while beautiful and powerful, weren’t derivative of a culture I could call my own.
I was facetiming my friend one day, lamenting about my disconnection from ritual.
“I felt so connected to my former yoga community because for the first time, I had elders showing me how to practice rituals when I needed them. I don’t have those elders of my own.”
She replied, “You have the ability to create your own rituals; you can become that elder that shows your children what to do when they need guidance.”
It clicked. It was time to create my own concept of ritual. It was time to take the foundation of spirituality I was shown as a child, the elements of ritual I was taught as an adult, and create something authentic to me.
I started to notice the ways in which I was already practicing ritual without realizing it.
I was sweating in the sauna one day, looking down at the oddly perfect beads of sweat that had formed on my leg. I realized sweating was a ritual for me. I sweat to intentionally release toxins, both physical and energetic, by spending 20-30 minutes in the sauna, eyes closed, focused on my breath, and praying.
I thought of making flower arrangements. Years prior I’d watched a friend of mine create flower arrangements, and it inspired me to do the same. Every grocery-shopping trip included bundles of flowers I’d bring home. I’d take my time intuiting how to make the most beautiful arrangement I could, while listening to music and burning incense. It became this self-love ritual I couldn’t do without.
I thought of my baths. For the last five years or so I’ve cultivated habits and customs for taking baths: I scrub the bathtub with lavender castile soap, run the hot water, pour myself a large glass of drinking water and a cup of hot tea, place flowers either in the bath water or in a vase nearby, adorn my bathroom with candles, burn sage, etc. etc. Through this bath ritual I’ve created a space for myself to access God in a way I can’t elsewhere. Something about these baths, and my mindful preparation for them, amplifies the way I’m able to converse with my higher power, my ancestors, and myself.
I realized that ritual had actually never left me. Without recognizing it I was cultivating rituals that helped me merge my intentions with the present moment.
There was one I still craved, however. One that always helped me release what I needed to let go of: fire ritual. This was the main form of ritual I was taught in my yogic studies.
I decided to create my own version of fire ritual the night of the most recent full moon.
I built the fire with attentiveness and intention. Once the fire was ready I rolled up a “joint” of mullein, lavender, rubbed sage, and red raspberry leaf. On a piece of notebook paper I began to write down everything I wanted to release, paying attention to my exact wording. One by one, I tore off each item, read it aloud, gently rolled it up, and threw it into the fire. I focused my awareness on the ash forming, and the smoke rising up into the sky. I said a prayer when they were all done, and smoked my herbs as I gazed upon the flames.
There are so many more elements I want to add to my newfound fire ritual, but this start freed me in a way. It reminded me of the same thing my friend reminded me of: that I have it within me to cultivate the practices I need. I am that elder/auntie/motherly figure I’d been searching for to teach me how to practice.
I am eternally grateful to the teachers who showed me the importance of ritual. But my gratitude doesn’t make me dependent on their guidance any longer. I can take what I’ve learned and apply it to the next level of my personal evolution.
And it’s not only for me anymore. I think about my nieces and nephews, and the children of my own I may have one day. I think about them coming to me with a problem or worry, and the tools I can share with them to help them release their worries into the hands of God. I think of their hopes and their dreams, and the rituals I can share with them to help keep them aligned with their deepest desires.
I am so grateful for the role ritual has played in my life in my adulthood. It’s shown me that my sight, smell, taste, hearing, and touch, can all play an integral role in the way I commune with the divine. It’s shown me that the questions, desires, and worries on my heart, can be made manifest and transformed into something new. And now, I’m learning that ritual can be created, from the depths of my heart, from what I’ve been shown, and from the help of people I love.
I define ritual as: a routine with attentive awareness and intention. I wonder, what rituals do you practice? Are there rituals you practice that you’ve been taught by elders or teachers? Have you created rituals for yourself? Do you practice rituals that you didn’t necessarily categorize as ritual before?
I’d love to know what answers you have to these questions!
My hope for you is that wherever you are on your journey, you find and lean on practices that help ground you into your body, and connect you to Source. And I hope that, if it calls you, you give yourself permission to rewrite the script, and create practices that are authentically aligned with you.
With so much love,
Carly
YOGA THINGS 🙏
YOGA IN THE PARK: Join me Sundays, 12pm in Freedom Park, atl for a free community practice. No registration or fee. No experience or abilities required. Just bring a blanket, some water, and yourself and move, breathe, and chill under the trees. (Updates and more info on my instagram: @carlybrown.yoga)
I am now teaching 2 weekly public classes in a studio: The Intown Retreat in Decatur! Friday and Saturday mornings at 9am for a heated flow class. It’s challenging but doable for all levels. Come see me if you’re looking for a new studio class <3
I hope to see and connect with you soon
💗
Love! So beautiful. Now you have me thinking about my rituals.