I am writing this in a cafe in Sydney, 8:35 am. A steady stream of gray-suited professionals, fluorochrome-clad construction workers, and blank-faced patrons blocked out with headphones await their particular caffeinated boost.
They are barely present, bored and unsmiling. They take their hot drink and crawl into the concrete jungle, making room for each other in silence, not recognizing each other. The air of resignation is heavy.
Morning coffee is a deeply rooted cultural process in Australia. It amazes me how much hold the frothy milk frenzy has on the psyche of its citizens!
It has become a deeply ingrained habit.
Habits are all the rage these days. We’re all looking for faster, easier, and better ways to do more with less friction. Habits are marked as the definitive solution to lack of effort, to become unlimited. We are trying to change our habits and overcome our own self-sabotage. There are some amazing books on the subject, from Stephen Covey’s ubiquitous original, The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People, to Charles Duhigg’s most recent insightful, The Power of Habit.
The books aim to make success automatic, by developing patterns of behavior that move from habits to routines that generate results. Clothes, routines, results and PRESTO! Success.
But why do we want to be more on autopilot? So we see less? Taste less? Experiment less? So we get lost in worry? So do we numb ourselves to daily reality so we can hustle and rush our way to some future state where clothes are no longer needed, because we’ve finally reached that elusive destination?
And if we turn the focus? What if we dive into each choice instead of blindly walking through it, resorting to automatic anchors?
What would happen if we brought the power of awareness into our daily practice?
I remember reading the book Shogun by James Clavell. In it, he writes about a Japanese nobleman who, trying to win back his estranged wife, completes a tea ceremony for her. The ceremony is carried out with a simple and exquisite attention. Every move and movement done with care and love. She cries for the beauty of her efforts, the moments saturated with love, she surrenders to each gesture.
I love this idea: the dedication of attention to daily practice. The tea ceremony is a special ritual full of meaning.
What if we brought that kind of dedication and awareness to each of our daily moments? A glass of water upon waking becomes a time to cleanse yourself and rejoice in life. A shower becomes a purification ritual where thoughts and bodies are washed and ready to receive the gift of a new day. Morning coffee becomes communion with others, savoring carnal pleasures. Opening the laptop becomes a magical opening to a world of possibility and connection.
There is no room for stress when we are exquisitely focused on the meaning and glory of our present moment.
Instead of clothes, watch out.
Instead of routines, rituals.
Instead of results, revelations.
What you think? Where can you bring the magic of rituals into your daily life and work? What difference would that make to your experience of the day?
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