Age, Love, Ritual

For as long as I can remember I've given my mother a hug before I went to bed. And two nights ago, for the first time, only months away from my 22 birthday, it stopped. I dropped the ritual, mutually with her. Nothing specific was said, nor was anything addressed about it. It got me thinking about affection and childhood.

It seems to me that maybe one of the ways in which people actual 'become adults' is through the shift in their relationship to ritual. As children we are innately spontaneous and chaotic, following our whims and fancies as we desire. Impulse is the chief sign of our actions, and Hunger our insistent, naive guide. The rituals and procedures our parents imposed around us were abnormal. They were deviations from our nature. The good-night story. Chores. Our adherence to them became a demonstration of our love of our parents. The reason giving a hug each night was so meaningful was, I think, because the ritual that underpinned it was against my childlike, basic nature. It was elevated and special.

However, with age comes the indoctrination into ritual. Work. Education. Taxes. Procedure and repetition seem to be defining elements of the adult existence. Ritual ceases its specialness because of its ubiquitousness. The hug I gave my mother shifted to the merely perfunctory. In adulthood, spontaneity might be the hallmark of sincerity because it is so counter to how we live our lives. Just an idea.