Rituals that keep me going

and bring magic into my day

I’ve always raged against the expectation of me to do things out of sheer obligation. Choice drives me. It influences every part of my life – from how I write to how I navigate relationships and intimacy.

When I cook, for example, it’s not just to get food on the table. I experiment with ingredients like they’re my own messy works of art. The idea of cooking just to satisfy hunger feels stifling. Maybe it's the rebellious teenager in me refusing to play by the rules or accept the ordinary. Or maybe, I’m just terrified of slipping into the cliché. At least, that’s how I used to think – until I realised recently how much of my life is actually shaped by rituals. I’m not only talking about the family traditions and the rituals we might follow for celebrations like Christmas, Easter, Diwali or Ramadan. I mean the small routines which we wrap our days around, sometimes without even noticing how important they’ve become for us. These little daily rhythms are like scaffolding, holding me steady. How did I end up relying so much on these routines?

I began wondering: are these daily moments rituals, indeed, or are they just repetitive routines – those habits we all fall into because, as humans, we crave a bit of structure and stability? But then I realised that rituals feel different from habits. They’re intentional. When I listen to Ezra Collective’s Ajala on repeat during my workouts, is it simply because it’s become a ritual, or is it because its rhythm syncs well with my breathing, energising me every time?

Or, take my morning coffee. I absolutely love the smell and can’t start my day without a strong shot of espresso. Some mornings, I don’t even get to finish it before I’m off on the school run, but it’s a ritual I can’t skip. And then there’s the smooth stone I keep on my desk, a little relic from my grandparents’ home and a reminder of the last summer they were both still here. I hold it when I need to steady my thoughts, and when I need to go back to that safe, warm place in my memory.

It might sound a bit woo-woo to you, but I’m shamelessly making space for my rituals. Sometimes, they show up in my writing practice, other times I tuck them into my self-care moments, but I’m pretty certain they’re no longer just habits – they’ve grown into essential parts of my life.

My writing rituals

When it comes to writing, my rituals either inspire me or keep me grounded. Being a full-time working mother, I write in small, precious pockets of time – usually in evenings or on weekends. But let’s imagine it’s a rare, quiet Saturday afternoon. If I’m not holed up in a cosy café, I’ll be in my creative space (which manifests as a guest room, my work office, and anything else I need it to be). But when I call it my creative space, it gives me permission to feel like a proper writer.

I love nature walks which keep me calm the mind, and I feel lucky to have access to this beautiful part of Epping forest just minutes from home. This is a picture of a river running through the forest, secluded beneath the branches of green trees.

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Here’s a glimpse at some of my writing rituals:

1. Inspirational objects: My desk is more than just a workspace – it’s like a mini gallery of memories. There’s a small sculpture, a flyer from an art exhibition and a ceramic cup from my favourite café by the canal Mother Works, which unfortunately shut down during the pandemic. Before I begin writing, I take a moment with these objects, touching them, caressing their surfaces, and letting their stories nudge me to tell my own. It’s a simple act but I need that energy.

2. Merging words with found objects: I also call it “writing with substance”, or mixed media collage. I gather bits and pieces I come across with: scraps of fabric, torn magazine pages, old postcards, and random objects I’ve collected over the years. Arranging them on paper, I create little worlds, stories told through texture and colour rather than sentences. It’s a tactile process that frees my mind, allowing ideas to form visually before they take shape in words. As I piece together these fragments, I often find new connections and metaphors that slip into my writing in surprising ways.

   

   Four mini collages I did recently

3. Cooking as creative fuel: As I mentioned earlier, cooking is a form of creative play for me – mixing ingredients, experimenting with spices, and crafting meals without a recipe to adhere to. There’s something about the alchemy of flavours that opens up new ideas in my mind. Whether I’m kneading dough (it happens not more than twice a year) or simmering a sauce (far more often), the process feels like storytelling – starting with raw ingredients and slowly shaping them into something whole.

4. Found words journaling: One of my favourite rituals is using found words as writing prompts. I keep a box of random words and phrases collected from old magazine pages, packaging, and even the odd note from a café board. When I’m feeling creatively blocked, I sift through the box, pulling out a handful of words at random. I arrange them into new sentences, letting their quirky combinations surprise me. Sometimes these fragments are nonsensical, but other times, they unlock an unexpected idea that sparks my next piece of writing. It’s like a mini scavenger hunt for inspiration.

5. Dancing it out: Okay, this one’s a little embarrassing, but here it goes. When I need a break, I put on my favourite playlist and dance like nobody’s watching (hopefully, no one is!). It’s silly, but it shakes off the tiredness and re-energises me. There’s something about moving freely that unlocks creativity – it’s like giving myself permission to be playful again. I’ve read about dance movement and its healing and liberating benefits – it’s even used in therapy – so I’m not making it up. This quick dance movement exercise by Ekin Bernay is my favourite one.