Everyone Leads a Life of Rituals

By Jeffrey M. Bowen

 

 In early March pairs of geese noisily arrive and patiently wait for the ice on our pond to melt so they can nest.  Hundreds of miles to the east, our collegiate granddaughter leaps up and down and shakes her shoulders and legs as she and everyone else at the starting line nervously prepares to compete.  Meanwhile, my wife spreads ingredients across our kitchen island as she reads directions for a dinner casserole from her old Fanny Farmer cookbook.

You might think these activities have little to do with each other. However, they share a common thread called rituals.  These are not really the same as habits, compulsions, or traditions.  A habit may define what we do almost automatically without thinking. Compulsion drives us to do something despite ourselves. Tradition is a repeated practice we embrace because it bonds us together for sharing at particular times. 

Rituals are like these but different in intriguing ways. They define who we are and infuse our lives with purpose and emotion.  For instance, geese instinctively mate and reproduce, but they do it in ways that bind them together for life.  With their new goslings, they parade across the water and fields.  One adult leads the group, the other follows, and often an apparent uncle serves as a sentry.  They become angry and trumpet their displeasure when their ritual is disrupted.

Our granddaughter’s starting line rituals may loosen muscles or reduce anxiety, but they also affirm training routines, competitive desires, and preparation that is universal among all track athletes. 

 

My spouse’s culinary rituals are rooted in the pleasure she takes from commitment, skill, and a delicious result that defines just who she is.  I am the beneficiary of her rituals, but so is everyone in our extended family who enthusiastically repeats the same rituals.

A rewarding investment of effort is crucial for ritual-building. In his insightful analysis of the “Ritual Effect,” Harvard business professor Michael Norton describes why the Betty Crocker baking company experienced a big sales slump after World War II.  

Young women initially enjoyed the simple convenience of the company’s fully premixed cake batter.  But within a few years a decline in sales prompted the company to ask the women why.  It turns out that they felt guilty about doing too little and wanted to add or adapt their own ingredients to make the batters their own. By switching the recipe from dried eggs in the package to real eggs that could be added, the company regenerated sales.

Something called the IKEA effect, generally known as DIY, has become spectacularly successful for the same reasons.  People value a product or activity more if they have put something of themselves into it.  Scholars call this an endowment effect.  Chefs would readily agree, as would most do-it-yourselfers. 

Professor Norton has spent a decade exploring rituals. His work explains why religious ceremonies and major holidays like Thanksgiving and Christmas produce an enduring impact on our lives.  Yet legacy rituals like these do not fully describe the impact of our own personal daily ritual signatures.

Rituals may involve a rite of passage or lifestyle dividing points.  They can build or destroy relationships.  Sometimes they create experiences we savor and love, but at other times they generate anxiety or stress.  Marriages, the birth of a child, or moving to a new job can produce either positive or negative rituals.

In any event, personal rituals are pervasive.  When one disappears, another may replace it.  Professor Norton coins the term “emodiversity” to describe the unique richness and changeability of rituals in our lives.

Symbols are linked to rituals. Often those symbols, whether they are objects or acts, provoke powerful memories. For example, our basement is a repository of ritual memories: books I refuse to dispose of, ties I have collected, and workout equipment I try to use every day.

The phenomenon of hoarding may be rooted in memories of bygone rituals.  Considering my own hoarding tendencies, my wife’s sometimes compulsive pursuit of a clean and organized house (she calls it being “house proud”) is a much-needed compensatory ritual. 

Rituals need not be a big deal. One of the memorable and distinctive examples in my life occurred in my third grade at the end of each day. As we filed out of the classroom, our teacher, Miss Magnusson, would make sure no ill feelings would linger. She required us to line up and shake her hand as we said goodbye. I never forgot her gesture.

Professor Norton’s research confirms that “rituals are everywhere, imbuing our ordinary actions with extraordinary power.” Their essence lies not in what we do, but in the meaning and emotion we give to just how we do it.