Domestic Rituals

When I read your post, my first thought was that microwaves and exhaust fans have taken away much of that lovely smell that signaled dinner time in the home.

The image also on this page of washing on a clothesline reminded me of my father.

I remember my dad talking about the fact that the days of week in his childhood were marked by different smells. Monday was washing day, so his home had that aired-washing smell. Tuesdays, he was greeted as he came home from school by the steamy smell of ironing. Wednesdays brought the smell of freshly baked bread. Fridays were redolent with other baking - cakes and biscuits prepared for the weekend hordes. Sundays carried the mouth-watering smell of the lunch roast.

He used to say sometimes that he wondered how kids today were able to feel the same sense of ritual, security and safety that he'd felt as a child, because these predictable routines were no longer a part of life.

Although he didn't use the word 'sacred' to describe his experience, I do believe that this sense of ritual is a sacred one. And I also think every family does have its rituals, even in this modern age. However sometimes this is an unconscious thing - and sometimes the particular 'rituals' are perhaps not as healthful or sacred as they could be.

I guess awareness and mindfulness are key - so we can ensure the rituals we have are nourishing for the soul - and do indeed bring that sense of the sacred into the everyday.

Hey Sue,
Mindfulness is key. Not to dismiss the power in the ordinary, to relish the commonplace.

I too live in a rural environment where we are constantly experiencing being with the earth. We have separate buildings and each has its own specific purpose - bathing, sleeping, cooking. We must go outside to enter each space. I like that bit of wind in my face, rain sprinkles in my hair, glimpse of sunset, between my different activities. It reminds me that I am an earth creature and keeps me humble in a way. I applaud you're keeping of the sacred within the domestic. It is all too easy to lose connection with that when we automate and crave luxurious comfort.

That sounds like an amazing place to live Judy,
Your comment on being an earth creature really strikes a chord with me. I like to be aware that this flesh and these bones are a garment of the earth...

That's an interesting idea...much of it comes down to a removal from the physicality of maintaining existence.

Yes. And I have always felt tugged to return there and live that, and yet a parallel tug has kept me living in a (relatively) pampered modern environment. It feels as if there is a need for cells embodying that understanding to be found standing in a supermarket check-out queue even more than chopping wood in paradise.

I spent a winter in rural patagonia many years ago. There was no electricity, no public transport and no telecomms. I still recall the depth of communication and connection with people from then when we had to haul water, chop wood, tend fires and all the other sacred domestic rituals.
With living in a widespread community, where most transport was on foot unless you got lucky enough to hitch a ride, time spent together was enjoyed fully and had a spaciousness to it I no longer experience unless I really make the effort for it to be there.

That's it exactly. What a great example. In wanting everything done for us in the pampered sense of modern living, we have diminished the joy of interaction that is found in the doing...

Miss may be the wrong word, but I'm thinking the dishwasher has taken away an important after dinner ritual that reminded us the value of work and forced a bit of cooperation and negotiation on getting jobs done.

Certainly, there is the possibility for the shared chore of washing and drying...If we recognize the value of these tasks, in the doing of them, then perhaps we can get beyond the "just getting it done" attitude.

I sorely miss opening the milkbox just outside the door, where foot high snow still covered the ground, and pulling out a fresh cold freezing bottle of milk! :~)

That's a great memory of a domestic ritual that has been lost.

You know, the one thing that has kept my husband's family together has been the work on the farm. It is hard work for sure and I am sure I wouldn't have liked it growing up. As the family has gotten older and modern convienences have arrived to their rural farm, the family has become more reluctant to keep the family farm going. Life has gotten busy, digging ditches is hard, remember to change the water is a huge responsibility and no one really wants to take the hour and a half drive up the mountain to make sure Fish and Game isnt accidentally "stealing" water. Water rights are a huge issue on the farm. Personally, I wish I would have asked more questions and been more attentive to how everything works. Grandpa is getting old and he can't do it all himself anymore. Perhaps if we make it up to Utah this summer he can show me at least once more how to guage water.

When my husband was a child not too long ago (no, I didnt) his family had to fill the cistern each month and sometimes each week with water from off location. It was a time that the family got together and worked together, creating a family activity for all to share in. Each child learned responsibility and conservation from this act of drawing water. About ten years ago, the county finally laid water lines to the homes in their rural area. This modern act supplies the family now with fresh, reliable water, but it also caused the family to rely less on each other for their sustanance and cleanliness and made them in effect a little careless in their consumption.

Its a good thing they still have to change water from the family ditch for their farm and shovel coal each winter which I will testify is a very dirty and smelly task.

My mind recalls for some reason the domestic tasks of Cinderella and how the attitude of the sisters can in many ways be a trap we fall into.