The Rituals I Don’t Want to Regret Missing
A Reflection on Heritage, Presence, and the Beauty of Slow Rituals by Sommy Dike
There’s a line I once read that stayed with me: “If you do not change direction, you may end up where you are heading.”
It made me pause.
In a world that moves at a relentless pace, it’s easy to drift through life on autopilot — always rushing, always striving, always postponing the moments that matter. But what happens when we finally look up and realise the seasons have shifted without us?
At Onatalu, our entire philosophy is built around reclaiming presence — through ritual, through heritage, through the quiet, grounding moments we create with our own hands.
So today, I want to share a simple reflection exercise inspired by something I read recently. In the document, the author describes envisioning yourself at the end of your life and asking what you would regret most. “Envision yourself on your deathbed. Make a list of the things you know you'd regret.”
It’s a powerful prompt.
Here is my own version — the Rituals I Don’t Want to Regret Missing — and the commitments I’m making to honour them.
1. Neglecting the Rituals That Keep Me Grounded
Our ancestors understood something we often forget: ritual is medicine.
The slow massage of warm oils into the skin. The scent of botanicals rising with steam. The quiet moment before dawn when the world hasn’t yet made its demands.
These aren’t luxuries — they’re anchors.
When I skip these rituals, I feel it. My mind scatters. My body tightens. My creativity dulls.
My commitment: To honour daily rituals not as tasks, but as acts of remembrance — of self, of heritage, of the women who came before me.
2. Letting the “Magic Years” Slip Away
In the document, one line struck me deeply: “By the time your child turns 18, you've spent ~95% of the time you will ever spend with them.”
Whether it’s children, siblings, nieces, nephews, or the younger versions of ourselves — these years are fleeting.
The laughter. The sticky fingers. The bedtime stories. The way they look at you like you’re their whole world.
These are the moments that become memories.
My commitment: To be present. To put the phone down. To let work wait. To soak in the sweetness of now.
3. Forgetting to Honour My Parents While I Still Can
Another line from the document hit me with a quiet force: “You're going to see your parents 15 more times before they die.”
Whether the number is exact or not, the truth is undeniable: time is finite.
Our parents — with their stories, their quirks, their wisdom, their imperfections — are living archives of who we are.
My commitment: To call more. Visit more. Listen more. To ask the questions I’ll wish I had asked sooner. To honour them while they are here to feel it.
4. Losing Myself in the Pursuit of “More”
Ambition is beautiful — but it can also be blinding.
In the document, the author describes a moment of profound clarity: “I had arrived, but for the first time in my life, there was nothing more that I wanted. This was enough.”
Enough. What a powerful word.
In a world that constantly whispers more, choosing enough becomes an act of rebellion.
My commitment: To build Onatalu with intention, not urgency. To grow, yes — but never at the cost of presence, peace, or purpose. To remember that the most beautiful life is not the fullest one, but the most felt one.
5. Allowing My Body — My First Home — to Deteriorate
One of the elders quoted in the document said: “Treat your body like a house you're going to have to live in for the next 70 years.”
Our bodies are not machines. They are temples. They are vessels of memory, emotion, and lineage.
When we neglect them, we pay the price — and so do the people who love us.
My commitment: To nourish my body with movement, rest, and care. To treat skincare not as vanity, but as stewardship. To honour the home I live in.
6. Letting Technology Steal My Presence
The document describes the impact of phone addiction: “Technology has created more connectedness than ever before, but it also makes you feel less connected to those right in front of you.”
We all know this truth.
We’ve all felt the sting of realising we were scrolling instead of living.
My commitment: To create tech‑free pockets in my day. To let my senses — not my screen — guide my attention. To choose real connection over digital noise.
7. Forgetting the Beauty of Slow, Ancestral Living
At the heart of Onatalu is a belief: Slowness is not laziness. Slowness is wisdom.
Our ancestors lived by the rhythm of the earth — not the rhythm of notifications.
They understood the power of:
• slow mornings • handmade remedies • intentional touch • community care • nature as healer
My commitment: To keep this wisdom alive. To create products and rituals that help others return to themselves. To protect the beauty of slow living in a fast world.
A Life with Fewer Regrets Begins with One Choice
The document ends with a powerful reminder: “Project yourself forward to the end. Look back on your life. What would you regret?”
When I look forward and then back, the answer is clear:
I don’t want to regret rushing through the life I prayed for. I don’t want to regret missing the rituals that make life meaningful. I don’t want to regret forgetting who I am and where I come from.
And the beautiful thing?
I don’t have to.
None of us do.
We can choose differently — today, and every day after.
With Love,
Sommy.