i’ve never done this before, so i don’t really know what i’m supposed to do...
(god knows i’m not brave enough to ask for help)
how do i narrow it down? there are so many options…
a vibrant red catches my eye. a flash of metallic silver earns a second look. something monochromatic entices a brush of the fingertips…
i start stacking and away i go
The memory has vivid details even after all these years: the table is filled rows and rows of gleaming paperbacks. A few dozen at least. It’s summer 2003, and a host of unfamiliar names and titles flood my mind like a tsunami. I’ve stepped into a new world, it’s going to take a moment before I find my bearings. Bright, late-morning sunbeams grapple with the harsh glare of overhead fluorescents, leaving no room for shadows as each vies for supremacy. There’s the aroma of coffee in the air; the crack and hiss of espresso machines; an occasional whiff of paper.
I pick one of the books up at random to feel its fresh unbent spine and allow the freshly cracked pages to fan my face.
Sublimity.
I have arrived.
I can still picture all of these little fragments in my mind’s eye but the memory is like a dream, lacking precision and detail; overall, it has a vaguely warm, comforting feeling associated with it.
I suppose that was probably the day I fell in love with reading.
Well, actually, you know what? I guess that’s not quite right… because my memory isn’t of reading on that bright summer day in ‘03. No, what I fell in love with on that particular morning, was selecting and arranging the next books on my “to be read” stack.
Whatever I paid for those books was worth it, evidently… that day helped shape my destiny.
There was a Clive Cussler thriller in that first stack—I remember selecting it because it featured a stylized sword set against a vibrant red background on the cover. That was hard to resist at twelve years old. White Death was the title.
I’m pretty sure there was also a military thriller by Harold Coyle in there, too; the cover featured silhouetted soldiers posed to make their violent intervention into less well-developed countries seem rather heroic and glorious. Plus: the soldiers were carrying what I thought were pretty cool-looking guns. If memory serves, I found the book too plodding and didn’t bother finishing it, which is probably why I can’t recall the title… (Out of curiosity, I looked it up: More Than Courage—what a brutally generic title, no wonder it didn’t stick!)
There was a book by Dale Brown, as well (not to be confused with Dan Brown, the far more well-known author of The Da Vinci Code), this one was also a military thriller, and it had a futuristic military plane on the cover… I had to look up the title for this one, too: Air Battle Force.
Are we beginning to see a pattern here?
Patrick Robinson’s Barracuda 945 featured a sleek silver submarine contrasted against a matte black cover.
Stephen Coonts’ Deep Black: Biowar featured an Apache attack helicopter flying out of a superimposed biohazard symbol.
Very cool stuff.
But even if my reading tastes have changed quite a lot, my method of planning what I’m going to read next, hasn’t really changed in twenty years.
It’s an exercise in chaos and imprecision. The foundation is formed from the heaviest tomes but the upper tiers remain precarious nevertheless, with haphazard edges jutting out at odd angles. Some of the innermost volumes are so hidden in the depths that they must be excavated to be retrieved, like the riches in a long-dead pharaoh’s tomb.
And let’s be honest: it’s not so much a “stack” at this point, as it is a “pile.” (But “reading pile” just doesn’t have the same ring to it, does it?)
Naturally, I never manage to make a dent in it… in fact, it just keeps on growing. But I just keep right on pruning…
Arranging the outer layer of the pile—the dermis, if you will—has become the most important ritual in my life. Back when the pile was just a stack, establishing order was king. The pile is my way of bringing order out of pure chaos.
“The function of ritual, as I understand it, is to give form to human life, not in the way of a mere surface arrangement, but in depth.”
- Joseph Campbell
Anthropologist Dimitris Xygalatas has written about what he calls the ritual paradox: the simultaneous feeling that one’s rituals are an indispensable part of one’s life while, at the same time, being wholly unable to articulate how or why.
I don’t know about you, but that certainly resonates with me.
“We tend to think about ourselves as very rational beings, and yet so much of what we consider meaningful sits in actions that are compulsively repeated and yet have no obvious outcome.
- Dimitris Xygalatas
There’s a paradox here.
The time I spend fretting over my TBR pile is useless—at least in the objective sense. I know there’s no “point” in shifting this particular tome to the top, putting this one back on the shelf, or moving this volume to “a more appropriate thematic corner.”
I understand that I’m not changing anything about the universe when I shuffle my books around and I’m certainly aware that the time I spend on the pile is time spent not reading.
And yet I do it anyway—and not only that, I do it despite knowing that I’m not actually affecting anything.
So, why bother?
talk, well i heard that talk is cheap
Every player has their own spin on the free throw: dribble once with the right hand, once with the left, dip, and shoot; around the back, right hand, left hand, wipe sweat, right hand, shoot; squint, dribble, squint again, crouch, and shoot.
Karl Malone, for instance, liked to take his time. With a nickname like “the Mailman,” he had to deliver. And Malone was notoriously lethargic at the line.
It’s the 1996 Western Conference Finals. Malone’s Utah Jazz are in Seattle taking on the hometown Supersonics. Malone steps to the line and collects the ball from the referee. His lips move the whole time, a constant stream of syllables fall from his mouth, but no one is even bothering to listen to what he’s saying. In the deafening roar of the stadium, they couldn’t hear his words even if they tried. And besides, he isn’t speaking to them... he isn’t speaking for them. He’s reassuring himself in the only way he knows how. The crowd mocks and jeers. As one voice, thousands of hostile ‘Sonics fans begin counting, “ONE! TWO! THREE!”, in a desperate bid to distract and antagonize. He doesn’t blink or falter. His lips continue their mute tirade. He transfers the ball to his right hand; dribbles once, twice, three times, four, five. The crowd grows louder with every repeated motion. His eyes stare straight ahead as if fixed on something beyond the hardwood in front of him, perhaps somewhere beyond the bounds of the planet itself. “FOUR! FIVE! SIX!” After the fifth dribble, he hoists the ball in front of his face, as if he’s finally going to shoot, but as the shooting motion begins, he pulls the ball back down toward his waist. Unarticulated words continue to pour from his lips like water from a colander. He spins the ball in his massive hands, feeling its familiar weight. He closes his eyes, bending deep into his knees, bouncing his bulky frame with unexpected grace. “SEVEN! EIGHT! NINE!” His lips finally cease their hushed vigil, sealing themselves as his eyes rise up to the rim. In one fluid motion, Malone shoots. As the ball arcs toward the basket, there is little doubt… The ritual complete: Malone scores.
No player in NBA history has taken or made more free throws than Karl Malone (at least at the time of writing). Out of a staggering 13,188 attempts, he made 9,787 freebies (for context, Lebron James has made 8,087—Malone’s record will be safe for a while longer).
If there was ever a time when a person was under extreme pressure to break their ritual, it was Karl Malone at that free throw line in Seattle in ‘96. And yet, despite tens of thousands of angry ‘Sonics fans mocking him to his face, Malone kept to his ritual.
And he made his shot.
help me get my feet back on the ground
Rituals are highly structured. They require rigidity, and must always be performed the “right” way. And they involve repetition: The same actions are done again and again. In other words, they are predictable.
So even if they have no direct influence over the physical world, rituals provide a sense of control by imposing order on the chaos of everyday life.
It is of little importance whether this sense of control is illusory. What matters is that it is an efficient way of relieving anxiety.
Excerpt from “Why people need rituals, especially in times of uncertainty” by Dmitris Xygalatas. The Conversation. March 25, 2020. https://theconversation.com/why-people-need-rituals-especially-in-times-of-uncertainty-134321.
Life is crazy, right?
Like a box of chocolates, a sage man once remarked, I believe.
Trite? Sure. Powerful accurate? Absolutely.
With life, you really never do know what you’re gonna get.
But, in a way, that’s not strictly true, is it? We know we’re going to feel powerless at times. We know we’re going to feel helpless and overwhelmed. We know we’re going to feel like we’re out of control, or the world is out of control, or that everything is out of control. Being human is tough. A lot of the time, it sucks.
Karl Malone knew that his languid free throw ritual didn’t cause the ball to go into the net. He literally missed thousands of shots immediately after completing his ritual. Thousands. He wasn’t stupid, he didn’t think he was doing magic. But, clearly, something magical about the ritual because it worked for Malone far more often than it didn’t.
Dimitris Xygalatas explains that this is exactly the purpose and function of ritual: to provide a subjective sense of control over objective reality.
Karl Malone knew that his ritual wouldn’t guarantee a basket, but he also knew that it was his best bet to ensure that it did. His ritual allowed him to achieve a meditative space of calm focus. His ritual allowed his body to remember the rote rhythm of a motion he had practiced countless times. His ritual provided him with the sense that he had done all he could and enabled him to trust that the intended result would follow. Clearly, despite the evident powerlessness of the ritual, he was on to something.
I think that’s why, without fail, I wander over to the pile once or twice a week to shuffle things around. Sometimes I arrive with an intention; maybe I’ve just acquired something that I’m really excited to read and that volume cuts to the front of the line; maybe I’ve decided that, upon second thought, I don't want to read that dragon series after all and a bunch of books are pulled off the pile. Rearranging the pile allows me to connect with how I’m feeling in a weirdly tangible way. If I feel particularly connected and disconnected from something on the pile, I take that as an invitation to examine that feeling. I try not to judge it—although examining the judgments themselves can be useful too—but to accept it as it is. What’s going on here? What’s happening in my life that’s drawing me toward or pushing me away? Sometimes, upon closer inspection, these examinations result in no changes being made to the pile. A bit more time to ponder the next move is needed. At other times, I have moments of clarity that confirm that a shift has taken place and it’s time to move on from something I’ve been clinging to.
Rituals—even silly little rituals like fussing with a TBR pile—can help us feel a sense of control over the frenetic scramble of everyday life.
And that sense of control—whether illusory or not—can be a real lifesaver sometimes.
Ritual is an ancient and inextricable part of human nature. And while it may take many forms, it remains a powerful tool for promoting resilience and solidarity. In a world full of ever-changing variables, ritual is a much-needed constant.
- Dimitris Xygalatas
Do you have any rituals that you keep? How do you experience them as beneficial? How long have you kept your ritual?
And if you don’t have a ritual yet… don’t be afraid to be a little weird, silly, and foolish at times, my friend! You might be surprised at the power you discover.
Okay, that’s all for today, so until next time… be well!
bibliography
Campbell, Joseph. Myths to Live By. New York: Penguin Group, 1972.
Shapiro, Ari and Lauren Hodges and Ashley Brown. “Rituals are important to human life — even when they seem meaningless.” NPR. September 13, 2022. https://www.npr.org/2022/09/13/1122796534/rituals-are-important-to-human-life-even-when-they-seem-meaningless.
Xygalatas, Dimitris. “Why people need rituals, especially in times of uncertainty.” The Conversation. March 25, 2020. https://theconversation.com/why-people-need-rituals-especially-in-times-of-uncertainty-134321.
https://www.basketball-reference.com/leaders/ft_career.html