The most important ritual we can do is to constantly surrender to God.

We all want things. Being human, we come into this world wanting—a warm bed, nourishing food, a loving presence to take care of us.

Later on, there are toys, kittens, bikes, and candy. We want so many delicious, comforting, exciting things. As we grow older, we begin to believe that if we don’t get our coveted wishes, we simply won’t be happy, safe, complete, or loved.

The ego takes over, clambering for that situation, person, job, and it makes us crazy, thinking that if we don’t get it, we will never be fulfilled. We will be incomplete.

Wanting things isn’t a bad thing. Once we learn what we’re here to do, the wanting seems to fade away into being, which is hard to understand, but we eventually know that we are already complete.

The only problem with wanting is, if we latch on and wait, wait, wait for it to manifest, then what we’re focusing on is that fact that we don’t have it. We’re focusing on lack, and lack will perpetuate.

As much as I am loathe to expose my lack of spiritual prowess, here’s a little story about something I wanted and how I managed to get everything wrong.

I needed some advice, so I reached out to a few people I knew could send me in the right direction. I sent out some emails and waited to hear back, fully expecting to have a plethora of information from which I could plan for a huge step in my work.

At first I thought, “Oh, it’s the holidays, I’ll hear back soon after.” But nothing came, nary a bite. I began checking my email every five minutes, refreshing my phone and laptop. I’d check junk mail. Radio silence.

I went into full-on spin mode. I was convinced magick didn’t work, that I would never get the information I needed, meaning the project I want more than anything would never, ever come to pass. Damien watched as I had a full-on meltdown on our living room floor.

I gave up. I simply gave up. But it wasn’t an enlightened surrender, it was a childish, throwing-hands-in-the-air quitting.

Then, from my place on the floor, I heard Damien say: “Your phone is ringing.” I jumped up. It was one of the very kind people I had contacted calling to help me. The miracle came when I gave up my expectations—even poorly. God doesn’t care how you hand over the reins, as long as you do.

Damien, who doesn’t make me feel bad when I act like an idiot (sweet man), told me that I needed to let go. Really let go.

So, I’m doing my best. And things really are getting better. A few wonderful surprises have happened since, but the most extraordinary thing is I feel at peace.

I now have a new ritual for those moments when I question creation. I whisper aloud:

Thank you for answering my prayers.

That’s all. No “please answer my prayers, in this way, at this time, with this person.” In those moments of peace and clarity, there is room where God can fill me up.