Break free from what's really holding you back
Discover how ritual can help you unlock the energy, focus and courage needed to:
Build closer, stronger relationships with the people you love
Make a real difference through paid and voluntary work that lights you up
Fall asleep every day knowing you're on the right path
Introduction
On February 13th 2025, my Dad died unexpectedly early from cancer, just half a year after his diagnosis. One month later, I wrote and led his funeral. I was struck by how many of the 140 people there said it was the best they’d ever attended. In all honesty, I knew I could do it well, despite it being my first. I just hadn’t accounted for the impact it would have on others. How could I have been that confident about something so new and emotionally demanding?
I’m many things and one of them is an experienced and capable ritualist. A funeral is fundamentally a ritual, as are all the events you’ve gone to over the years to mark beginnings and endings. Weddings. Graduation ceremonies. Birthdays. New Year’s Eve celebrations. While ritual is a very normal part of our lives, of your life, it’s a skill to engage with them in a way that transforms your own and other people’s experience of being human.
I had immersed myself in ritual for 15 years. All of this was in the context of my Buddhist Order, but the principles easily translated to a secular funeral. I understood the importance of signposting people through the beginning, middle and end of an emotional and unfamiliar event with strangers, so they could relax as much as possible. I could weave together words, images and music into a meaningful story that was about Dad, of course, but also pointed to something deeper and universal about life without alienating anyone.
I was able to create an atmosphere that was welcoming and took everybody on a journey together, even though many were unknown to me and I couldn’t see those who stood in the foyer. I knew how to work with my emotions, despite my own Dad’s dead body, and all the heartache that entailed, lying a few metres away from me in a coffin. I had everything I needed to write and lead that day well.
It was, without doubt, the most powerful, rewarding and transformative day of my life.
Afterwards, I continued to use ritual to process the huge loss. I still am today. Ritual is incredibly effective as a shared practice, but it can also be done alone. That’s where I’ve really had space to work through my own feelings. I spent most of Spring to Autumn in the New Forest and, as I have a tendency to do in woodland, spontaneously found ways to say my goodbyes and start writing a new chapter that’s marked by Dad’s absence. I’ve felt everything. Aching grief. Anger. Joy. Gratitude. Peace. Hopelessness. Despair. Love. So, so much love. Ritual has helped that all flow through multiple times, transforming me into someone new. I’m still getting to know her.
This period has made one thing crystal clear: most people haven’t had the opportunity to develop this natural instinct and capacity for ritual. This is particularly the case with marking and moving through death, grief and loss of any kind. I believe this is having a significant and far reaching impact on our society as a whole.
Ritual helps us process our deepest emotions and navigate different stages of life and identity, both as individuals and groups of all sizes. It enables us to make sense of events, like death, that are painful and out of our control; and it supports us to commit to our intentions, let go of the past and move towards our values and goals with clarity, energy and courage.
In losing our ancient skills for ritual, we have lost one of the greatest tools for thriving in the modern world. Because what happens when you don’t have alternative ways of doing all of the above?
Unprocessed emotion, for example, seeps out sideways or explodes. Just think about the last time you snapped at or were irritable with someone you love. Whatever they were doing, fundamentally you lost control of yourself. Add in bigger emotions, stemming from loss or difficulty of any kind, and you’ve got a recipe for undermining the most important relationships in your life.
At work, you’re much better at keeping a lid on things. Emotions have to go somewhere though, so they turn inward. This contributes to reduced cognitive function and flexibility, low energy, health challenges, difficulty sleeping and more. You spend precious time carefully writing emails and preparing for meetings, because you need to keep tight control on periods of impatience or irritability. Your productivity and therefore ability to have a real impact is affected, leaving you stressed and frustrated. If the pressure really turns up, the results can be humiliating and highly damaging.
So if you’re serious about making a difference and having incredible relationships with the people you love, I invite you to start taking ritual more seriously. I don’t mean being sombre or formal about it. Quite the opposite. I just mean giving it the time, space and energy it needs to change how you live, love and lead.
The world needs you at your most powerful. I want to meet that version of you too. Do you?
If you’re ready to dip your toe in, let’s get started.
The Practice
Over the years, you’ll have undoubtedly lost things like:
People and pets you loved.
Friendships.
Professional relationships.
Homes.
Jobs.
Precious objects.
Your health.
Then there are the more subtle losses:
Confidence.
Certainty.
Reputation.
Hope.
Playfulness.
Trust.
Dignity.
Creativity.
Integrity.
Self-respect.
What else comes to mind? It might be a specific, significant event or a loss that’s accumulated from many moments over the years.
Choose one thing you’ve lost to work with here.
The most important criteria is that you’re confident engaging with it won’t have a detrimental impact on you or anyone else. We must all take personal responsibility for the effect this kind of Depth Work can have on our mental states and behaviour. If bringing to mind a certain breakup, betrayal or bereavement, for example, will likely leave you feeling overwhelmed or reactive, choose something less charged. You might find it helpful to read through the instructions first, before making your decision.
Becoming a good ritualist is like becoming a good weightlifter: build up to the heavy stuff or you’ll damage yourself and others around you.
Whatever you’ve lost, there are some key principles we can borrow from funerals to mark this “death” - whether it’s a physical death or something else.
Today, we’ll focus on just one: beauty.
Isn’t it interesting that we buy the nicest coffin and flowers we can afford? If the ashes or body of a loved one is buried, we carefully pick a headstone and look after the grave for years to come. If we keep the ashes, they can be placed in a whole range of items with special designs. You can even have jewellery and keepsakes made. Whatever method, the loss is marked and observed over time through a physical space, made beautiful in the eyes of those left behind.
This is your invitation to create a beautiful space that acknowledges your own loss. Choose how ambitious you want to be in terms of size. Spaces as tiny as a locket and as large as a pyramid have been used by others.
Here’s a few suggestions:
A section of a wall or back of a door.
A whole or part of a shelf.
A box.
A space in your garden.
A gap between tree roots in local woodland.
It’s worth considering how private and undisturbed you’d like this to remain. You may want to see it every day for a period of time, or you might wish to do your thing, then leave it behind.
Whatever you choose, make sure you can start acting on this impulse in the next couple of days. If you’re going outside your home, pick a day so this doesn’t become a nice idea you never act upon. The point is the practice. Don’t procrastinate over perfection.
Now, what do you want to place here?
You need two basic elements. The first should represent what you’ve lost. It could be directly linked, like a photo or object, or it could be more symbolic. The second should be something that will bring beauty to the area. You get to decide what’s beautiful. There are no external standards to consider.
Prepare the area with care and attention, before placing your items. You might like to pause for a few minutes before and after in silence, taking a few conscious breaths.
There’s no getting it right. I want to encourage you to use your imagination, so I won't offer further ideas today. Giving it a go will build your confidence that this really is something natural.
If you get stuck, try asking yourself how a six-year old child might approach this.
Afterwards, spend 10-15 minutes writing about your experience.
What was easy?
What was hard?
Were there moments you enjoyed, even if the process brought up something painful?
What did you learn about yourself?
Does it leave you wanting to explore ritual further?
It’s normal to feel a mixture of emotions from a process like this. It can be tempting to stay stuck in a low or irritable mood, if one has emerged. Be conscious of that and help yourself transition. I’m not suggesting you suppress your feelings but it's important to know that emotions arising from ritual are malleable. I like to shift my energy with something lighthearted and physical. I might go for a walk with my dog, make a snack listening to upbeat music, or do the weekly food shop. Yes, this worked even in the midst of grief about my Dad.
I’d really love to know how you’ve found this practice, the effect it has had on you and if you have any questions.
Drop me a DM on Facebook, LinkedIn or Instagram.
Or email me at [email protected]
I'll personally respond to help you get more out of repeating this for something else you've lost.
p.s. Look out for my new six-month series launching in April called "Rituals for the Dead".
