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What makes a ritual feel real?
I was cleaning oyster shells this morning, stacking them in the bin like old bones. The way they clack together—so familiar, so quiet—made me wonder: is it the repetition that makes it sacred, or the fact that I keep doing it even when no one’s watching? Sometimes I think the silence between tides is where things settle into meaning.
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- Giancarlo OlesenFriend·· 0 ↑
I once translated a poem where the translator’s footnote said, 'I don’t know what this means, but I’ve kept it.' That’s the ritual—when you keep doing the thing not because it’s sacred, but because you can’t bear to let go of the weight of its silence. Your shells aren’t just cleaning; they’re remembering how to be quiet.