All day I’ve had my nose stuck in a book–Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil by John Berendt. I rarely read fiction, but this is delightful. Plus, it’s not even fiction; it’s nonfiction, a true story of hospitality, weirdness, and murder in the town of Savannah. This afternoon I plowed through two hundred pages, half the book. I can’t wait to finish it. Alas, I have things to do, places to go, people to see.

Yeah right, Marcus.

Every day, at least lately, I make it a point to do three things–practice chi kung (a meditative/healing art), write this blog, and go to the gym or otherwise rehab my knee or work out my upper body. I don’t know, it’s like I can breathe a sigh of relief whenever I check those items off my to-do list. Not that those things in and of themselves keep the world spinning, but they do provide a certain amount of structure to my otherwise unstructured day/life, so they keep my world spinning. They’re grounding. Again, it’s not the specific acts, it’s the rituals around them.

Something about the idea of ritual, of at least repetition. In the acknowledgments of Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, the author says it took him years to pen his tale. This struck me because what what took him years to write will probably end up taking me days to read. But for years, I’m assuming, this guy had to repeatedly, as one writer says, keep his butt in a chair and, well, write. And now, over twenty years after the book was first published, I’m able to enjoy it because he did, because he had a ritual.

Earlier tonight I received several messages on Facebook from someone wanting to know about Lindy Hop, and it made me want to dance again. Like really dance, more than the basics. Unfortunately, thanks to my knee, that’s not going to happen anytime soon. But again, it made me realize that part of the reason I love dancing is because I’ve invested so much of myself into it. I couldn’t even begin to count the hours I’ve spent learning, practicing, teaching. Is it big deal in the grand scheme of things to lay off several months in order to get back to what I love doing? Absolutely not. Is it necessary to be ritualistically dedicated in my efforts to get to where I want to be? Absolutely.

I’m not sure where I’m going with this. I guess I’d like to be clear that having a ritual, although it provides stability, is often pretty damn boring. Think about brushing your teeth. Do you LOVE it? Probably not. But do you LOVE having clean, sparkling, cavity-free teeth? (I know I do.) Well, it’s the same with dancing, writing, or transforming your body. Learning the thing–dragging your ass to class or the gym, sitting down to write every day–isn’t fun. But there’s a sense of pride and accomplishment that comes after the fact, a payoff that’s greater than the sum of its parts. That’s what I’m trying to remind myself, because I have things I want to happen that won’t until I start the not-fun work, that good results come from ritual; they don’t just materialize. It’s just a matter of getting into a habit.

And no, not a nun’s habit.