The Quiet Loss of Ritual in Modern Life and Why We Need It Back
The quiet loss of ritual
I have been thinking a lot about the importance of rituals lately. About how deeply human they are, and how sad it is that particularly in the West — but increasingly also in other countries — we are losing this very thing that connects us deeply with ourselves and keeps us plugged into something greater than the noise.
The more we move away from ritualisation, ancient wisdom and the natural rhythms of life itself, the more confused we seem to become. We try to fill the space with toxic fixes, quick dopamine hits, distractions that numb us rather than nourish us.
And I feel it very personally.
I am deeply affected by the lack of these things in society. Sometimes it devastates me.
Where are our communities?
Where are the days where we spoke to our neighbours, knocked on the door and asked if they had some milk because we had run out? Where are the small, ordinary interactions that made life feel shared rather than isolated?
I feel truly sad, sometimes to my core, when I look at the way we are living.
And when I think about my future children, I sometimes feel a sense of panic. Where will I bring them up? What kind of environment will they grow into?
We say that it takes a village to raise a child.
But where is the village?
Where are the parents who choose not to give their children iPads as a default? Where are the parents who let their children run barefoot, get muddy, forage for berries, watch the moon rise and learn the stories of the stars?
Where are the children climbing trees instead of sitting inside scrolling through endless digital worlds?
Sometimes I feel angry about it. Sometimes I feel desperate.
Because I am someone who deeply longs for community. I am someone who deeply believes in the power of shared life.
And yet the structures that once held this are disappearing.
At the same time, I also feel content in another way. Because I have been fortunate enough to experience other ways of living.
Over the years I have travelled, learned from different cultures and spent time in communities that live much closer to the rhythms of life. Communities where ritual is still part of everyday existence. Where gathering is natural. Where people still sit together, share food, mark transitions, honour the seasons.
Seeing the world through these perspectives honestly saved me.
It reminded me that another way of living is possible.
In many ways I feel like a hybrid between two worlds. A bridge of sorts.
I carry within me the wisdom and traditions I have learned through travel, ceremony, and time spent in cultures that still honour ritual. These teachings now live quietly inside my everyday life.
And yet I also live in a city.
I enjoy art galleries. I love good design. I occasionally enjoy an extra hot oat milk latte. I appreciate style, culture, and the creative energy that cities offer.
I am here in Oslo voluntarily. Something inside me knows that I am meant to be here right now, even if I cannot fully explain why. At the same time, I also know that it is not forever.
And maybe that is part of the journey too — learning how to live between worlds.
But what saves me, what keeps me grounded even within the busyness and noise of modern life, are rituals.
Bringing ceremony into the everyday.
Because ritual reminds me that life is sacred, even within the ordinary.
Slowly, in my own way, I have begun creating the kind of community I long for. Through gatherings, through circles, through the work I offer.
At the same time I still yearn for already existing villages. Places where this way of life is simply normal.
Slowly, slowly I am beginning to find pieces of that here in Oslo.
But I also hold a dream.
That more people begin to wake up. That we step out of the endless rat race and begin to rebuild a more community-based way of living.
Because when I look around the world right now — with wars happening in this very moment, with so much division and noise — I believe what we need is vision.
Light.
A remembering of what it means to live as humans on this earth.
And if we truly want to raise our children differently, then we must begin by living differently ourselves.
It starts in the home.
It starts with ritual.
Bringing Ritual Back Into Everyday Life
Ritual does not have to be complicated. In fact, the most powerful rituals are often the smallest ones — the ones we repeat, the ones that slowly shape the atmosphere of our homes and our inner world.
These are some of the practices that help keep me connected — to myself, to God, and to something greater than the noise of modern life.
Take what resonates. Leave what doesn’t.
The point is not perfection — the point is remembrance.
𖦹 Cleanse your home energetically
Once a week I like to do a proper energetic cleanse of the house.
Not just cleaning surfaces, but actually clearing the energy of the space.
Rosemary is one of my favourite herbs for this. It has been used for centuries as a cleansing and protective plant. You can burn dried rosemary and let the smoke move through your home, or simmer rosemary in hot water and let the scent fill the space.
Another simple practice is placing a small pinch of sea salt in the corners of your home. Salt absorbs heavy energy and helps reset the atmosphere. Leave it there for a few days and then discard it.
It sounds simple, but it makes a real difference.
Your home should feel like a sanctuary.
𖦹 Create an altar
This is something I wish more people did.
Create a small sacred space somewhere in your home — it doesn’t have to be big.
A candle.
Maybe a stone or crystal.
A photo of someone who inspires you.
A plant.
Something from nature.
This becomes a place where you pause, pray, reflect, or simply breathe.
Every morning when I wake up, the first thing I do is light a candle on my altar. That small flame reminds me that the day is sacred before it becomes busy.
Sacred spaces change the energy of a home.
𖦹 Light candles — even in the daytime
I genuinely don’t want to know how much money I spend on candles each year.
But I regret none of it.
Candlelight shifts the atmosphere instantly. It slows things down. It invites presence.
And yes — light them in the daytime too. Why not?
Ritual is not reserved for the evening.
𖦹 Move your body intuitively
Movement does not always need to be structured.
Sometimes I simply ask my body:
How do you want to move today?
And then I let it express itself.
Maybe it stretches.
Maybe it sways.
Maybe it shakes something out.
Your body knows things your mind does not.
𖦹 Sit in stillness
Even a few minutes.
We are so used to constant stimulation that silence can feel uncomfortable at first. But sitting in stillness — even for three minutes — begins to reconnect you to yourself.
No phone. No music.
Just breathing.
𖦹 Grounding
There is real science behind this one.
Putting your feet on the earth — soil, grass, sand — helps regulate the nervous system and reduce inflammation in the body.
In summer, try to do this every day.
Take your shoes off.
Walk barefoot on the grass.
And if you have never walked barefoot in a forest before…
Oh my.
Try it once.
𖦹 Intentional gatherings with friends
Ritual does not only happen alone. Some of the most powerful rituals happen in community.
When you gather with friends, ask intentional questions. Go deeper. Hold the vision and potential of the person in front of you.
One of the most powerful exercises I learned during my shamanic arts practitioner training was something called intuitive witnessing.
You sit in groups of three.
One person receives.
The other two close their eyes and simply speak whatever images, feelings, or words come to their intuition about that person.
Maybe they see an elephant.
Maybe they sense travel.
Maybe they feel kindness, courage, or fear.
It might sound random.
But the receiver simply listens.
No analysing. No correcting.
Just receiving.
It was one of the most powerful practices I experienced during that training and something I still occasionally do with friends.
Try it.
𖦹 Create simple ceremony with friends
Gather some pillows on the floor.
Place a candle in the middle.
Make cacao or tea.
Pull some cards together.
Even something this simple can become deeply meaningful.
Presence itself is ceremony.
𖦹 Prayer
Prayer has quietly become an important part of my mornings.
Often I stand in front of my altar, light my candle, and simply speak.
Sometimes it’s gratitude.
Sometimes it’s asking for guidance.
Sometimes it’s surrender.
Prayer reminds me that I am not doing life alone.
𖦹 Gratitude
Sometimes gratitude comes easily.
Sometimes it doesn’t.
But I try anyway.
Even naming three things can shift the entire tone of a day.
𖦹 Visioning with a friend or partner
This practice has been a real game changer for me.
You sit with a partner or friend and speak your day as if it has already happened.
“I woke up and had a slow intentional morning. I did some breathwork before breakfast. I had a really productive day doing work that feels meaningful…”
When you finish, the other person repeats back what they heard.
Then you switch.
After that you go even deeper.
You begin speaking about the life you are creating as if it already exists.
“I am living in a home filled with warmth and laughter. My children are playing nearby. I have attracted the most kind, loving, conscious partner…”
Again, the other person reflects it back.
There is something incredibly powerful about hearing your vision spoken aloud and witnessed by someone else.
𖦹 Moon rituals
The moon offers a rhythm we can reconnect with.
The new moon is a powerful time for intention and sometimes fasting.
The full moon can be a time of reflection and release.
Simply noticing the moon again is already a ritual.
𖦹Chanting
Chanting or singing sacred sounds has been used in cultures around the world for thousands of years.
It shifts your nervous system and opens the heart.
You don’t have to be a singer.
Just let your voice move.
You do not have to do all of these things.
Choose one.
Maybe you start by lighting a candle tomorrow morning.
Maybe you take your shoes off and put your feet on the earth.
Maybe you gather two friends and sit together around a candle and ask deeper questions.
Ritual is not about performance.
It is about remembering that life is sacred — even in the smallest moments.
And slowly, quietly, ritual by ritual…
Perhaps we begin rebuilding the village again.
