Rituals

I have certain parts of my practice that are, quite deliberately, "old school." One is the entry of final divorce orders. These days, in many jurisdictions, if you come to an agreement, you can simply submit your orders to the courthouse along with a sworn declaration from one of the parties layout out all the necessary factual findings for a divorce.

The "old school" way is to actually go to court with your client, have them appear before a judge, and give sworn testimony as to the factual basis for the divorce. The court hears the testimony, approves the final orders, and formally dissolves the marriage on the record.

Many attorneys, eager to avoid the courthouse or save their client some money, just do the "mail in" way."

I frequently do it the old-fashioned way. I explain all the practical reasons for it when I get clients ready: you're guaranteed to get the divorce on a certain date, there's not a big delay if there's an issue and they get it back, and it is easier to get certified copies. What I frequently do not tell them is the powerful psychological reason to do it.

Even in our very polished, streamlined society, rituals still carry power.

Very recently, I had a client who had been in a very long-term and abusive relationship with someone that had severe substance abuse issues. He was violent. She did her best to protect her children (and herself), but it was a long and deeply painful season of her life. She finally worked up the courage to go through the divorce process.

Confronting her husband and bringing that painful chapter of her life to an end was one of hte most frightening and painful things she had ever done. Very rarely do people totally re-route their life and break generational cycles like she did.

When we got to the courthouse, she was (as always) very composed and practical. I walked her through the process of how we would go into the courtroom, enter sworn testimony, and then the marriage would be dissolved. She took it all in with her typical and very stoic demeanor.

Finally, when we were called up, we went through the litany of questions. We got to the part where I asked if the marriage was "irretrievably broken" when she started crying. She was mortified about losing her composure, but the judge (a former family law lawyer herself) comforted her and told her that it was totally normal. We got through the rest of the testimony and my client was struggling with tears the whole time.

I got the signed orders and went outside the courtroom with her. She slumped into her seat.

"I'm so sorry!" she said.

"Don't be," I told her, "You should appreciate the magnitude of what just happened. You spent a year of your life doing the most difficult thing you've ever been through. You built your own sanctuary with your own two hands. For the first time in more than two decades, you have a home where you can feel at peace."

I could practically see my words sink in like a well-thrown spear. She was not the sort to talk about "sanctuaries" or "peace," but she knew every word I just said was entirely true.

"You're right," she said.

"Can I ask you another crazy question?"

"Only if I can clean up my make-up while you do it."

"What do you want?"

She looked at me like I'd grown horns.

"What, like breakfast?"

"No, I'm talking cosmic here," I said, "if I'm reading this right, you've been looking after other people or managing crisis for about two decades straight. What do YOU want to do, now that you don't have to do that anymore?"

She paused for a second.

"I really don't know."

"I'm not an expert," I told her, "but if you're looking for a place to start finding a new life, that's a great place to start."

Matriarch. Mom. Project manager. Oldest daughter. You could tell the question was an alien one, but I cannot tell you how pleased I was that she got to come to grips with it while she was still young and healthy enough to go out and touch the answer.

Once she got cleaned up, we went to enter the orders with the clerk and make the divorce official. We walked out of the courthouse and I shook hands with her.

How we begin things and end things is important. How we transition into new things is important. Human beings have had rituals since the dawn of history because they do what they have always done - help us move through changes in meaningful and powerful ways.

It's hard to justify on a spreadsheet why making the trip to the courthouse is important, but that experience - being in a special place and hearing the words, letting the experience strip you so you can really see and ask questions - is absolutely worth the cost of admission.

People that haven't experienced it might roll their eyes, but I guarantee you that most people that have walked through that gate would tell you that it is important to make that journey instead of just sending a couple of pieces of paper in your stead.