The slow secret life of rituals

Sometimes a whispering of the soul is all you need to sustain you. Feelings that you thought unreachable come flushing down the sleeping alleys of your being, waking you up from the drowsiness of your own rapture.

Winter is here and the gentle rhythms of its breeze guide my hands as I perform the ritual of water bowls in the garden every early morning. To any outsider this action of offering conceals as much it reveals but to me the very fact of choosing water as a symbol of purity help me pave my way to another realm of emotion.