I've been thinking about the word "ritual" lately, how it carries this weight of ceremony and meaning that feels almost embarrassing to apply to something as mundane as going for a walk or making sure the sink is clean before bed. But maybe that's exactly the problem—we've relegated ritual to the sacred, the special, the performed, when the most powerful ones are often the ones no one sees.
Most of these aren't impressive. They're not aesthetic. They're not part of a "routine" I show off or document. But they keep me clear. Sane. Functional. They're systems I built—or stumbled into—that reduce friction and prevent spirals. I don't follow them perfectly. But when I do, life moves with a little more ease.
These aren't hacks. They're agreements I've made with myself. And they work because the equation is embarrassingly simple: I do the rituals, I feel good. I don't do the rituals, I feel bad. That feedback loop keeps me showing up again and again, not because I'm disciplined, but because I'm fundamentally lazy and have learned that doing these small things now prevents me from having to do much harder things later.
Each one functions as both a pre-decision and an ongoing agreement. Pre-decision because I've already determined what I'll do instead of having to choose in the moment when my capacity for good choices might be compromised. Agreement because every time I show up, I'm recommitting to the person I want to be.