Spiritual ritual takes many forms. If you're Catholic, you might think of Communion. If you're Buddhist, you might think of meditation. And so on and so forth. Among other things, these activities give people a way to "practice" their faith and stay focused. Such rituals have always fascinated me.
Why? Well, for one thing, I grew up in an atheist home. It was a happy, kind-hearted and good-humored one, with parents who loved each other as much as they loved their kids (and who still do). We had our own rituals: summer trips to the lake, car wash blitzes on the driveway and sledding in the winter. Suckers for a hard-luck story, we fostered stray animals -- abused pups, orphaned ducklings, one-legged pigeons, you name it. We watched science and nature shows. We ate at the table. But we didn't pray. And that's just fine. We were good without a god.
Yet for me the absence of spiritual ritual fueled a certain curiosity, even fascination, with it. When I was a kid, there was a very pretty Ukrainian Orthodox Church just down the street from my grandparents' house. I used to ride my bike to its steps and peek inside the widows on Sunday mornings just to watch the rituals within.
When I grew old enough to explore and understand the doctrine and beliefs of various religions, I decided they weren't for me. But those rituals? Wow, they were really something. Beautiful. Even as a non-believer I could sense the comfort they gave.
So it should have come as no surprise that as a young woman of twenty years old I found myself wandering the ritual-rich landscape of Rome. Perhaps it was a combination of fate and my own curiosity that led me to cross paths with a brilliant woman performing an ancient ritual in the Roman Forum: She was burning an aged beeswax Vestal candle at the ruins of the Temple of Vesta. (Vesta is the ancient goddess of the home and hearth, symbolized by an eternal flame that burned in her temple and in homes.)
The more she told me about the Vesta tradition, the more its simplicity and focus made sense to me. It was breathtakingly beautiful, ancient, authentic, natural and it sparked a lifelong love with the classics. However, as a young woman with wings on her feet, I didn't really need it in my life on a personal level.
After all, life was easy. Life was fun and free. I had big dreams and the world was my oyster. What could ever go wrong? I didn't need a faith. At that time, I thought faith was fluffy. It was for needy people. At that time, I had it all figured out. A big-shot legal career, designer pencil skirts, tangibles -- that's what mattered.
Yeah.
Fast forward a couple decades. Career struggles, a bumpy marriage, a near-death experience, an identity crisis or two... for me, finding faith wasn't a one-shot religious experience. It didn't happen because of childhood teachings or a soul-seeking trip to the mountains of Bali. It was more a messy, slip-shod type of enlightenment that happened between cooking dinners, managing my mediation practice, helping my son with homework and trying to explain to my husband why I was so bitchy so much of the time.
Today, the simple but age-old rituals of the Vesta tradition -- the ones I first learned about decades ago in the ruins of an ancient temple -- serve as my GPS for the soul. They uplift my spirit when our increasingly angry, sanctimonious world wears it down. They give me focus when my thoughts or worries distract me. They give me peace and comfort when my fears -- Time is moving too fast! My son is growing up too quickly! My husband and I are getting older! -- begin to kick in. They give me a way to express my reverence and gratitude for life and to honor the things that are most important to me.
And that's a good thing. Just ask my husband: I'm a much happier, wiser, more intuitive and balanced person to live with. That hasn't just made my marriage a better one, it's affected all areas of my life.
Vesta rituals -- at their most basic -- involve offerings of salted-flour either set by or sprinkled into the flame of a candle. Baked salted-flour wafers can also be passed over the flame both at meal-time and during times of meditation, reflection, trouble or gratitude. This ritual nourishes the sanctity of the home, strengthens marital and family solidarity, and soothes the soul.
A lararium is another custom: This "household shrine" is located near the entrance of the home -- to bless the comings and goings of family members -- and holds cherished family mementoes and a candle. The flame of this candle provides a spiritual focus for the home (the Latin word "focus" means hearth, as the hearth fire is the center of the home). I've even been known to videotape a burning Flamma Vesta candle with my smartphone and play it back at the office, just to ground and relax myself in the middle of a hectic day.
To me, there is something inherently sacred and reassuring about looking into a flame, especially the Flamma Vesta. Perhaps it's in our blood. After all, "fire worship" is one of the earliest forms of religion known to humankind. Who hasn't experienced "the magic," as my husband calls it, when looking into a simple flame? Now when I see the flicker of the flame, when I hear its crackle on the wooden wick of a Flamma Vesta candle, when its amber glow lights my home -- well, I'm home.
Visit www.FlammaVesta.com to learn more.
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