Stones, Sarcasm, and Spiritual Spring Cleaning: My Native-Inspired Ritual for Chronic Healing

Somewhere between “I’m fine” and “why is breathing so exhausting,” I stumbled into an Amerindian ritual that I’ve adopted as my yearly reboot. It’s called the 14 Stone Ceremony, and while I’m pretty sure a medicine man would roll his eyes at my modern variation, it works. At least, it feels like it does. And when you’re a chronically ill chef with sarcoidosis and more medical equipment than a Star Trek episode, feeling something is worth celebrating.

First, you gather 14 stones. Yes, actual stones. Not crystals, not Etsy-branded soul rocks—just small, flat stones that don’t crumble under pressure. Pro tip: rivers are great for this but remember to ask the planet’s permission before stealing her accessories. Grab a Sharpie and a bell too. Lamps and iPhone alarms do not count.

You’re thinking of seven negative traits you want to release and seven positive traits you want to bring into your life. Use this moment to get honest. No one’s looking. I once wrote “resentment” so aggressively the ink bled into the groove of the stone. Maybe that’s symbolic? Maybe I was hangry. Either way, it made the list.

On each stone, write one word—one trait. One side, one idea. Then, say out loud “I no longer allow…” followed by the trait, and ring that bell like you’re summoning a flight attendant for ginger ale. Then flip that stone over. Repeat for all seven little demons. Then bring in the positive—“I welcome peace,” “I embrace patience,” etc. Do it like it’s already true. No future tense, no “I’ll try,” no Pinterest-y hedging. Just claim it. Because if the universe can handle supernovas and tardigrades, it can handle your wish for less self-doubt and more joy.

Once you’ve confessed all your emotional sins into your stones and thanked them for their service, toss them. Into the ocean, a river, or bury them if you’re landlocked. Just don’t leave them on a public trail. There’s something satisfying about imagining your negativity sinking to the bottom of the Hudson, right between a shopping cart and someone’s abandoned electric scooter.

You might ask: Does it work? Honestly, I don’t know—in the medical sense. But over time, I’ve learned that small rituals can move mountains inside us. They give shape to things that feel too big, too invisible. When you’re living with chronic illness, you need all the small wins you can get. And if tossing a stone labeled “fear” into a river on a full moon gives me even a flicker of control in the chaos, I’m doing it.

The 14 Stone Ceremony is messy, quirky, and a little absurd. So is life with sarcoidosis. So is being a writer. So is being a human. Try it. Worst case, you get some fresh air and confuse a squirrel. Best case? You feel lighter. And when your body can’t always be, your spirit deserves to be.

So…

If you’ve got a ritual or practice that helps you stay sane, I want to hear about it. Drop me a comment, share your own weird healing traditions, or subscribe so we can keep comparing survival strategies. Trust me, this is one conversation you won’t want to miss.