I don't really have a process: it’s more like—well. It sounds wrong to say I have a ritual, for it's different every time. It has to be different every time. The ritual is tailored to the task; the ritual is tailored to the objective. There are qualifiers that need to be met for the act to be considered a ‘ritual’. The sound. Not consistently music, consistently silent, or consistently ‘non-stop rain sounds no ads 10hr’, but always only one set of sounds for the current ritual. The space. Sometimes the ritual requires a dark room; sometimes you have to move from dark to light, or sit stationary as the sun moves across the sky; sometimes you go out and back in, and out and back in, and out and back in again, and the ritual can only happen in the doorway. The taste. Often I can only begin when I’ve brought something to eat and drink; other times I won’t be able to eat until I’ve finished. Then there are the times when I can drink only water to keep any taste from my mouth, physically clearing my palate to mentally clear it. It’s only ever been once that I had to stop a ritual entirely to brush my teeth, floss, and mouthwash, and then begin again with a clean mouth to speak from. The smell. This cannot always be controlled, but is as crucial as every other qualifier. I keep herbs with me, and having that small influence is sometimes enough. 

In the last 24 hours, the world has become a very dangerous place. I have become visibly weaker, and anyone I encounter will be able to tell I’m out of sorts. They will take advantage of this. They know their cruelty does not matter: I am not human, and they are free to treat me as they please. I must defend myself from this. I must prove my competence. I must perform the ritual.