Rituals as an antidote: stability in a divided world
There's a moment in Vulnerable Balance when Nuwara, the protagonist, stands in the middle of the desert. The sky glows orange, the sand crunches beneath her feet, and she feels the weight of her choices. A small fire is lit for her, an ancient ritual performed by generations before her. It's a moment of stillness, of connection, where the past and the present converge.
The remarkable thing about rituals is that they speak a language that doesn't require words. They connect across borders, cultures, and time. Where words fail, rituals can provide support.
Yet we live in a time when that stability is often lacking. We scroll endlessly through screens, switching from stimulus to stimulus, and lose touch with the essence of who we are and where we come from. Rituals offer a countermovement: a way to pause, feel, and remember that we are part of something larger.
Rituals as a compass
Indigenous ceremonies, like those in the book, demonstrate that rituals are not just tradition, but also guidance. They bring people together and remind us that we are part of a community, of nature, of a larger whole.
We all know it, often without even naming it: a cup of coffee in the morning, a hand on a shoulder, a candle we light. Small acts that bring peace, that gain meaning through their repetition and intention.
For Nuwara, rituals are a way to stay afloat in a world that constantly challenges her. They bring her back to her roots and demonstrate that growth lies not only in progress, but also in remembering, pausing, and connecting.
Together in a divided world
Especially now, in a time of polarization and acceleration, rituals can be a source of connection. They invite listening instead of judging, gathering instead of distancing. Rituals create space for doubt and silence, something we've often lost in our society.
Perhaps that's their strength: they don't have to give answers. They open up a space where we can reconnect with ourselves and each other.
The invitation
The question then isn't whether rituals still have meaning, but which ones we dare to embrace. Perhaps something grand and collective, perhaps something small and deeply personal. It doesn't have to be much: a moment of silence, a small gesture, an act that reminds you of what truly matters.
So, what ritual could you start today?
