I spent a solid chunk of my life trying to figure out how I was going to save the world. Then I realized I couldn’t, so I decided to just do what I could.

I sometimes romanticize this in my mind as “I wanted to save the world, but I was only one person so I became an EMT so I could save people and make them happy. As an EMT I learned I couldn’t save everyone and even then I couldn’t make them happy. Then I decided to just give people more reasons to be happy and become a baker. That’s when it started working.”

That’s adorable and might make a good eulogy for me someday, but the truth is that’s what we all do. Everyone at some point fights with themselves over where they fit in the world, what they want to be, and what they want to leave behind. Some figure out, some resent the question and never do, and others just decide to let the world figure itself out and they’ll go where they fit.

I’m lucky as hell I found my way to baking and culinary. It’s not just a trade and career for me, it’s a calling and spiritual expression. I’d love if it paid more- who wouldn’t?- but it’s work that activates Heart, Mind, Body, and Soul for me and I can make something like a living doing it. That’s not nothing.

The reason I write so much about the spirituality I find and ascribe to my job is right there in the subtitle of the blog- “beauty in the mundane.” To be able to find beauty in the small, ordinary things in life means learning to be present. To let those moments of presence affect you and fill you means learning receptivity and humility, and your connection to everything else. That, stripped of culture or religion-specific elements, is the definition of spirituality I personally ascribe to.

Reality isn’t always pretty, and finding those moments of quiet joy are difficult when we are bombarded by the needs, demands, and high emotions actually living involves. That, I think, is where rituals- even prayers- actually come in to play.

“Spirituality is recognizing and celebrating that we are all inextricably connected to each other by a power greater than all of us, and that our connection to that power and to one another is grounded in love and compassion. Practicing spirituality brings a sense of perspective, meaning and purpose to our lives.”

– Brené Brown, The Gifts of Imperfection”

Here’s the thing people always get wrong when they hear the word “prayer.” Some folks who do pray regularly even get it wrong and it becomes a real problem for them later. Prayer is always for those who are praying. An omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent deity, by definition, had no need for prayers or praise. In fact, Jewish sages claim that “expecting God to answer prayer” is one of the ways sin is created. God doesn’t need the prayers or praying- We do.

Our finite lives and finite minds can’t even conceive of an entity like God- and yet we want to reach out and touch Them. We want to interact with them, and link to something greater, grander, and more profound than we could ever be on our own. We need prayer to feel like we can talk to God, but we really need the grounding, the feeling of connection, and presence more.

At that point, if ideas of “prayer” or “God” give you an “ick” feeling (as many do and for good reasons), then it’s truly not the biggest jump to get “woo-woo” with it and switch “prayer” out with “ritual,” “incantation,” “invocation” or “spell.” If more folks in organized religion started wondering what they and their fellow believers were trying to conjure up weekly, I wonder if some of them wouldn’t think a bit harder about why.

It’s with all of that in mind that I started coming up with my own little morning ritual. Leaning on my Jewish-flavored spirituality and culture, it started with finding that short invocation I mentioned in this post. After that, a little curiosity and some research turned it into a brief, quiet, three-part ritual and litany I recite when I get ready for the day.

It doesn’t need to make sense to anyone else. It can be a called a “good luck charm” or superstition if you or anyone else really want to call it one and avoid deep discussions at work, but it only needs to mean anything to the person doing it.

I’ll be honest, sometimes I do feel a little self-conscious when I put down my things, grab my apron and tools, and start my recitation. I wonder if my colleagues are giving me weird looks while I center myself and begin my day. I believe we all do something like this, in our own ways. Theirs simply don’t look like mine. Yours probably won’t either, if you consciously have one. I’m sharing mine here, but feel free to share yours in the comments if you’d like.

Stay Classy,