America is so weird, and I say this as a person with a degree in anthropology, whose study centered on American culture and what it means.
Other places are not (necessarily) better. We like to think they are, because they have bank-breaking lavish three day wedding parties with elephants, or lavish quinceañeras with dresses as wide as a two-lane pedestrian bridge. We come of age with excessive alcohol, prepare for wedlock with excessive alcohol and strippers and ritual starvation, and bolster those who’ve recently lost a loved one with a hot dish. Other places seem to know how to ritual, while here we seem to only know how to drink and crumble carbs and cheese over a 9x11 pan and bake at 350 for an hour.
Lest we get all romantic about them and less about us, I’ll also mention that for some folks coming of age might involve four days of solo food deprivation and wandering (which less-than-rarely ends in death) or involuntary tattoos, or singing a long monologue in a language you don’t speak right at the age your voice breaks. Ours involves…
Drinking?
Legally?
Yawn.
The beautiful thing about the land of melting and our inherent lack of structure, is that we have the opportunity to craft and create the sorts of important recipes and rituals we want (and I’m not suggesting that we cherry pick from the rituals of others).
And that’s where I am now.
I’m making a ritual to celebrate(?) my upcoming surgery. The end of one chapter, the beginning of another. My specific recipe is below the paywall break, but my general guidance is here for everyone:
Start with purpose. Thanks to Priya via Maggie, this is the most important thing so that you can orient yourself and your allies. For me, the purpose of this transition ritual is to ceremonialize and maybe celebrate an important milestone. If you don’t take the time to identify the purpose of your ritual, you will end up filling in with… filler. Ritz crackers and an open bar, with not much meaning.
Find the most central and important action, event, and teammate(s) to achieve your purpose and loop them in early and often. Trust them. Delegate to them. While you and your matron of honor might both have ideas, they might not be the same ideas. My experience as a doula has really helped clarify this, because doula presence often interrupts tacit roles various folks play in birth. A great doula also asks you about purpose and preferences, so you can do that, too.
Take the food and beverage off the table (you can add them back later). But if you think about the essence of your ritual first and imagine that the food/beverage didn’t make it… what would happen? Would people share stories? Is singing and dancing important? What kinds of roles exist?
Practice gratitude for every attempt to make the thing happen. Lots may not go according to plan, and if you and yours are going to attempt heroics, definitely make sure it’s for something meaningful.
I have served toasting beverages in jelly jars (because the toasting was more important than the vessels), and whipped up a delicious (if hideous) gluten free cake at a wedding (because inclusive cake felt meaningful to the bride). I have let the firemen in (because: fire), I have kept the firemen out (because of rules about who sees who when. I have escaped out of windows (again, fire) and stuffed bridesmaids into leggings and love-threats that they are in no way to mention feeling cold or visibly shivering in front of the bride. I have made bouquets out of found objects. I once shared my highly embarrassing “crush it” playlist in an operating room to help someone birth because… if you have to birth in an operating room, shouldn’t you get a sweet soundtrack?
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