The Five Kisses

Among the many gifts of growing older, I have opened one that is especially precious. It is a deep respect and awe for the power of ritual to deepen our everyday life. Ancient cultures quickened to this instinctively and across ethnic and cultural boundaries similarities abound in the human response to this same awareness. In those days, everyday life was filled with gestures, food, talk, art and ceremony that incorporated ritual to affirm through their enactment the inner life. In our modern world, especially in the West it seems to me, there is very little left of ritual in our daily lives. We have routines, but not much ritual and there is a profound difference. Routines order our physical existence. Ritual feeds our spiritual one. Nowadays, for many, ritual has been cordoned off into weekly or sometimes daily, faith observances. We seem to have lost our understanding that it can be woven into every aspect of our lives.

In caring for my Mother over the long years of her dementia, I came to understand the power of ritual intimately. When someone is ill for a long time, the challenge to keep life meaningful, to feel like a 'real' person, seems to increase proportionately to the body's decline. Entry into the world of care giving is often made more difficult by the paraphernalia of that landscape and the ends and outs of requiring assistance with every detail of daily life. It takes a concerted effort to stay connected to the flow of the larger world in ways that nourish the spirit. As the years went by the decline of her health made activities increasingly difficult and so our connections to feeling real centered more and more on the inward experience. Activities gave way to moments. Big events no longer possible were replaced by small personal rituals of voice and touch. Some were funny and teasing: repeating the old bedtime advice 'sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite'; others more soothing and loving as I collected my goodbye kiss and said 'keep those lips kissable'. None of them were elaborate but all of them were rich with assurance. They became a form of communion between us—simple acts which carried within them something numinous.

One ritual proved to be a powerful bridge for all our family. As Mom moved closer to the end of her life, it became apparent we would more than likely not all be there when she died, and certainly not her beloved sister who was too frail to visit. It was then I began to give her what I called 'the five kisses' when I arrived and when I left, each kiss representing one of her children and the last one, her sister. Her face would fill with light. It was a simple act carrying within it the enormous power to affirm to her that we knew inside her weary body was a person who was still significant in the lives of others. It became our family's own private observance of communion.

I am thinking this morning, of how powerful are the simple observances we have the means to create. The same little phrase each day to our mate or children as they leave for work and school, the same blessing over food before it is eaten, a predictable good night kiss or pat or rub. Families and relationships are strengthened and endure through their use. The countless number of things we have the power to choose for ourselves through their use become part of the soul of our existence. We have forgotten where so much of our true power lies.

Mom died on a beautiful Spring morning with the new day streaming in through her window. As she gently sighed into her new life, my sister leaned over and performed the last remaining ritual which in the power and mystery of the moment was elevated to a holy sacrament.

She gave Mom her five kisses.

"A wisdom as constant as the North Star shines within all of us. It is always present, waiting to be tapped, waiting to guide use, to advise us. W need only use it to prevent its atrophy. No matter what our background, profession, color, or religion, employing this universal compass, this innate sense of what we know to be true, will help us establish a lifelong foundation—a place we can go to recover our sanity and regain our balance."

Nancy Cobb, In Lieu of Flowers