The Little Rituals That Keep Us Human

You know what keeps me sane these days? It’s not therapy, or some productivity hacks, or the next big thing on my to-do list. It’s this small, seemingly insignificant ritual I’ve carried with me for years: Watching the night sky.

Every night, no matter how emotionally drained or physically tired I am, I step out onto my balcony and look up at the stars, even if it’s just for five minutes. Some nights, I stand there with some snacks in my hands; other nights, just my hands tucked in my hoodie. I know, it may sound ordinary, but in that moment, surrounded by silence and sky, something really shifts within me.

I stop rushing. I stop scrolling. I stop solving. I just exist. And I remember what it feels like to be… human.

The World’s a Lot Right Now

Let’s not pretend otherwise, the world right now feels like a constant storm of bad news and brokenness. There’s war happening in places we’ll never visit, injustices unfolding in real time on our screens, polarising arguments that divide instead of heal, a fragile economy, burning forests, missing empathy, rising loneliness (even in rooms full of people).

And in the middle of all this, we’re somehow expected to carry on like machines – functioning, producing, achieving, numbing, repeating, until our hearts go quiet and our minds turn mechanical.

But we’re not machines. We were never meant to be.

Which is why, now more than ever, we need to hold tight to the things that make us feel alive, the things that tether us back to our emotional centre when everything else is pulling us apart. We need our little rituals.

These Little Things? They’re Holding Us Together.

Rituals are not always religious. Some of the most powerful rituals are deeply personal. Unspoken. Uncelebrated. But soul-sustaining.

They are often so personal, so small, that we forget how much they matter:

That call you make to your mum every evening, not because there’s big news, but just to hear her voice and know she’s okay.
The way you make your chai in the same old steel saucepan every morning, with exactly two cardamoms, because that’s how your dad liked it.
The walk you take after dinner not to burn calories, but to untangle your thoughts from the day.
The playlists you replay endlessly, not because they’re new, but because they feel like home in a world that’s constantly changing.
Feeding the same stray dog every morning before office, because no one else will.
Wearing your grandfather’s old wristwatch, even though it no longer ticks, because it makes you feel like he’s still part of your journey.
Sending a “reached” text even though you’re 30 and independent, because someone out there still waits for that message.

These rituals may never go up on Instagram stories. They’re not aesthetic. They’re not content. But they’re yours. And they’re sacred.

Because they do something no therapy app or productivity tool can. They remind you that you’re still connected to yourself, to your memories, to your softness, and to the parts of you that the world hasn’t broken yet.

Why Does It Matter So Much?

Because the world will keep demanding from you, your time, your energy, your opinions, your attention, and your outrage. It will keep numbing you with noise, rushing you with deadlines, tempting you with distractions. It will ask you to move fast, speak loudly, and stay in a constant loop of reacting.

But these little rituals? They ask nothing from you, except that you be present. They invite you into a slower, quieter space where you don’t have to prove anything—where you can simply be.

And when you do these small things with intention – boiling your tea, folding your clothes slowly, reading poetry, saying your grandmother’s prayer before sleeping, something inside you breathes easier.

You remember who you are beneath all the roles. You reconnect with the child in you, the artist in you, the lover, the thinker, the human being – not just the human doing.

Softness Is a Radical Act

There is something profoundly powerful about staying soft in a world that’s constantly trying to harden you. There is courage in still caring deeply when apathy is the easier option.

There is resistance in preserving your rituals of love, of faith, of connection, even when the world mocks them as unnecessary or outdated.

When you light that candle, or whisper a prayer, or journal your thoughts before sleep—
You are saying: “I refuse to become numb.”
You are saying: “I still believe in meaning.”
You are saying: “I am human, and I intend to stay that way.”

As I already said above, for me, that night sky ritual has become more than just a moment of calm. It reminds me that the world is still vast, that mystery still exists, that not everything has to be understood or explained. It pulls me out of my deadlines and disappointments and gently whispers, “There’s more to life than this.”

It keeps my curiosity alive. It helps me stay grounded in a world that often feels rootless.

You might also want to read: The Night Sky Deserves Your Attention

What’s Your Ritual?

Maybe it’s the way you check on your sibling without making it obvious.
Maybe it’s singing to yourself in the shower, or keeping a diary no one else will ever read.
Maybe it’s carrying a small photo of your parents in your wallet, even though you rarely look at it.
Maybe it’s listening to old voice notes of someone who’s no longer around, just to feel close for a minute.
Maybe it’s checking the locks twice before bed – not out of fear, but out of habit, because that’s how your dad did it.
Maybe it’s standing at your window during rainstorms, not doing anything, just watching and breathing.
Maybe it’s saving screenshots of kind messages people have sent you over the years.
Maybe it’s smiling at strangers on your walk because you know what it feels like to go unnoticed.

Whatever it is, hold onto it. Don’t underestimate it. These aren’t just habits. They’re little altars. Little pieces of yourself you’ve kept safe, even when everything else felt out of control.

So the next time you feel overwhelmed, or disconnected, or like you’re slowly becoming just another name in the crowd. Return to your ritual. Return to yourself.

And remember: the world may be losing its soul, but you don’t have to.

Before You Go: Our book series – ‘Unfold the Stories of Unsung Heroes‘ was born from this very idea. That even in a chaotic world, people quietly choose kindness. They heal. They fight for what’s right. They show up, even when nobody’s watching.

That’s why we just love to tell their stories. They remind us that being human is still something worth celebrating.

And maybe, your little ritual today… the one that seems insignificant—might be your own act of unsung heroism.