Darkly Devotions

Lyric prose meditations that play with elements from evangelical Christianity, Buddhism, yoga, reiki, Tarot and “weird voodoo shit.”

~by Cindy Clem

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Opening exercise: Build-a-Ritual

Create for yourself a morning ritual. Use at least three elements from each list below in any combination or order that you like. At the end, say, “That was a ritual. By the power vested in me, I performed a ritual.”

Motions:

Today’s passages:

“Once you have committed to your energy exchange with the Divine, set aside a full day for the experience of the attunement. You will want to take your aura-cleansing bath with a pinch of sea salt and dress appropriately for the ceremonial occasion. […] create an altar for the occasion as well. Place a white candle honoring the Divine and Mikao Usui on the altar. You may want to add flowers to your altar, pictures of saints, drawings of angels, or other touches to note the significance of this occasion.” ~Brett Bevell, Reiki for Spiritual Healing

“Place your cards in plastic bag (to protect them), put rock salt in the bottom of the shoebox, and place the deck on top. Pour the remainder of the salt over the deck. Put the lid back on the shoebox and tape it shut. Place the shoebox in another plastic bag and seal it. Place the whole package where it can get as much direct sunlight as possible. Say the following prayer, then wait three days and the deck will be ‘reset,’ or pure. You can then throw away the salt, bags, and box.” ~Joseph Ernest Martin, The Compass Guide to the Quest Tarot

See also: ritual and

Accessing the divine
Anxiety/compulsion
Ceremony
Comfort/pattern
Cultivation of patience
Fear
Focused play
Mystery
Setting the mood
Tradition
Trappings of
 

I grew up as a low-church Protestant. We didn’t do ritual. Ritual was a throwback to the Old Testament system of sacrifice and law, and Christ came to fulfill the law. Those Catholics and Episcopalians were trapped by their rules. We were the Evangelical Free Church. The closest we came to formal ritual was in passing around grape juice in the same plastic communion cups, rattling in the same metal container, every month. The body of Christ might be broken matzo crackers one month, day-old chunks of bread the next. After church my sisters and their friends would run to eat the communion leftovers. I wanted to join them (bread!), but it seemed somehow punishable, an abrupt switch from the sacred to the profane I found tempting but unsettling. I wanted rules. I wanted ritual, both for its mystery and for the boundaries it set. This is the beginning. This is the end. This is the part where you feel something.

Yet as I’ve finally begun to explore spiritual practices that engage ritual, I’ve found it irksome. At its best, ritual allows you relish the moment[1]. But too often ritual devolves into a set of rules. I want to flow with Reiki. I want to play with Tarot. I don’t want to bother with salt baths and altars and ceremonial dress and shoeboxes and flowers and sunlight. But it’s hard to say no, I’ll do it my way. As much as I rebel against rules, I feel lost without them. What if my way isn’t right? What if my way is too lazy or sloppy or impatient? What sacrifice does the divine demand before it reveals itself?

Matthew 7:7-8: “Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives, and he who seeks finds, and to him who knocks it will be opened.”

Closing ritual: Write your desire on unlined paper. Fold the paper three times, set it on the floor, and weigh it down with a double terminated crystal. Walk around it three times while repeating the following chant: “All I have to do is ask. All I have to do is ask. All I have to do is ask.” Walk around it backward three times, saying, “Ask is do to have I all. Ask is do to have I all. Ask is do to have I all.” Take three deep breaths, shake salt on your head, and see what happens.