At the start of this year, I joined a writing workshop called Writing Through Loss and Trauma, and for the first time, I truly feel like my writing is going somewhere. I’m working on different stories, and with this regular practice, I hope my words will find an audience. One of the most valuable lessons from this training has been learning to see myself as a writer—allowing whatever comes up to flow onto the page without judgment. This newfound freedom has led me in unexpected directions, nourishing my soul, which is always seeking new ways to grow and become a better human being.
Through this process, I’ve come to realize that writing itself has become a ritual for me, much like my meditation ritual that I already practice. It brings grounding and meaning to my days.
Recently, I had a wonderful conversation with my daughter about the difference between a habit and a ritual. The key distinction, we realized, is consciousness. You can drink your morning coffee while scrolling through your phone, or you can take a moment to be mindful—acknowledge the many hands that helped bring that cup to you, reflect on your plans for the day, and set an intention. Suddenly, drinking coffee becomes a beautiful ritual rather than just a routine. ☕
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