Rituals

Little, seemingly unimportant, acts done in the same order, at the same every day, bring a lot of order in my life.

I have had the same breakfast for eight months in office now, and not for lack of choice. I sandwich my omlette in my toast in the same way, I use the same coffee machine, I follow the same order of going about in the café during breakfast, every single day. Now the actions have become automatic, I do not need to think while I do any of this.
I shower before I go to bed at night. Yes, I know, that is unusual, but I cannot fall asleep until I do. Every night, it is the same order of events, replayed. This, in turn, helps me go over my day and plan the next. It helps me take stock of life.
When I get ready in the morning too, I am swift and I know exactly what goes with what and what else goes with the previous ‘whats’. It is because I become like a wound-up doll, executing the same steps of the doll-dance.
The Sufis believe that all of existence is a dance, and I completely agree. The steps are actually sequenced and if we manage to follow them, we get past most routine activities without even realizing that we did. Rituals are good mundane. Rituals are good.

Running Backwards

Tracing your wounds
Back to where they belong.
Scars
Leading into one another,
Forming roads that lead backwards.
Falling, falling through space
Through time,
Through words,
Into her eyes.
Splash.
Tears form puddles on those roads
Without milestones
Endless, infinite,
Like the songs
She heard with you.
Your tears,
Silent
As they mingle with mine
In infinite waiting,
Endless, within and without,
Like those roads
That lead backwards.