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The ritual of religion often stumbles before us before we stop and take note. After blind repetition I can miss the inherent beauty I’ve been overlooking in my stupor. The very familiar body movement of the genuflection before entering the pew is creased into my muscle memory. Yet, there are times I am passerby and I see myself from the outside. Self conscious moments leading into the creased muscle memory find me very awkwardly almost stumbling forward and falling in my genuflection…perhaps stumbling in ones ritual is the best ritual of all.