How to Borrow Rituals from Other Fields (Without Imitating Them)

Writers light candles. Athletes visualize outcomes. Chefs sharpen their knives in a precise, practiced rhythm. Scientists pace. Jazz musicians warm up with scales that morph into improvisation.

Every craft, field, or discipline has its rituals—those repeated gestures, setups, or mental warmups that signal: “I’m entering the space now.”

And while it’s tempting to adopt someone else’s rituals wholesale, doing so often feels hollow. Because a ritual is only powerful when it’s yours—when it reflects your rhythms, your needs, your mind.

This essay explores how to borrow rituals from other disciplines thoughtfully: not to imitate, but to learn. To extract the core principle beneath the practice. To design something that suits your own curious life.

Why Rituals Work

Rituals do more than warm you up. They shape the space. They shift the mind. They mark the boundary between ordinary time and intentional time.

Psychologically, rituals activate:

• Focused attention — you prime your brain to enter a different cognitive mode
• Psychological safety — the predictability creates a sense of control
• Embodied presence — even small actions can ground the mind in the body
• Meaning-making — ritual turns repeated behavior into personal significance

But for all of this to work, the ritual needs to feel authentic—not borrowed costume, but functional form.

Where to Look for Borrowable Rituals

Rituals exist in every serious discipline. Not all are useful to you, but many can spark ideas. Look to:

• Visual artists — studio setups, lighting habits, palette prep
• Composers and musicians — scales, tuning, listening silence
• Scientists — lab notes, hypotheses phrased as questions, “day one” prep
• Monastics — silent transitions, bells to mark shifts, intentional breaks
• Chefs — mise en place: setting every tool in its place before beginning
• Writers — timed sprints, repeated phrases, talismans near the desk

The point isn’t to recreate these rituals. It’s to observe what they achieve.

Don’t Copy the Form—Copy the Function

If a poet lights a candle to signal the writing hour, the point isn’t the flame—it’s signal and shift. If a designer clears the desk before sketching, the point isn’t tidiness—it’s mental readiness.

Ask: “What’s the ritual doing for them?” Then: “How can I design something that does that for me?”

📌 Examples

• Don’t: Mimic a novelist’s 6am writing time if you’re a night owl.
  Do: Create your own consistent start-of-session signal, whenever you naturally feel alert.
• Don’t: Copy a researcher’s complex note-taking framework.
  Do: Ask what they gain from that framework—and design a simplified version that helps you see your own ideas clearly.
• Don’t: Burn incense because a poet you admire does.
  Do: Ask: what sensory environment brings me most into focus?

Questions to Ask While Observing Others’ Rituals

• What transition does this ritual mark?
• What does it signal (to the body, the mind, or others)?
• Is it more about rhythm, or more about meaning?
• What cognitive or emotional state does it invite?
• Could I use a version of that function, adapted to my own life?

This is the difference between copy-paste and curious translation.

Designing Your Own Ritual, Inspired but Unique

Here’s a simple process for creating a ritual that’s inspired by another field but uniquely yours:

1. Observe: Watch or read about rituals in a discipline that intrigues you.
2. Extract the purpose: What mental or physical shift is the ritual creating?
3. Choose your version: Select materials, gestures, or timings that work in your context.
4. Keep it simple: Rituals need repetition. Start tiny and build.
5. Test and evolve: Let the ritual change. You’re not reenacting. You’re creating.

Examples of Thoughtfully Borrowed Rituals

• A researcher learns about mise en place from a chef and creates a “thought mise en place”: before writing, they organize notes, clear tabs, set one sticky note with the central question.
• A writer borrows from monks and sets a 25-minute bell chime to remind them to check in with their breath—not to stop working, but to briefly reset their pace.
• A graphic designer learns about dancers’ pre-performance focus and builds a 2-minute silent standing ritual before beginning visual work—just standing in stillness before engaging.

None of these rituals are direct copies. But each honors the intent behind the original practice—and makes it personal.

Why This Practice Matters

Borrowing rituals thoughtfully builds:

• 🎭 Cognitive variety — you break from your own industry’s norms
• 🌀 Embodied presence — rituals bring your full self into the space
• 🎯 Deliberate intention — starting with awareness changes what follows
• 🌱 Creative connection — you feel part of a lineage of makers, even across fields

You’re not stealing. You’re conversing — with other disciplines, other rhythms, other ways of beginning.

Conclusion: Begin With Something That Isn’t Yours (Then Make It Yours)

You don’t need to invent rituals from scratch. And you don’t need to perform someone else’s. You can study other makers—not to replicate them, but to translate their practices into your own language.

So the next time you hear someone talk about their routine—whether it’s a tennis player’s breathwork or a philosopher’s early-morning notebook—don’t ask, “Should I do that too?”

Ask: “What is that doing for them? And how could I create something that does that for me?”

This article is part of our Curious Practices trail — essays for minds learning to begin with borrowed rhythm, and end with their own.