A ritual practice
Rewriting
Rewriting
the Rules
Every rule you live by was written for a reason. Some of those reasons no longer apply. This practice is about reading the fine print, deciding what you still want to sign, and releasing the rest.
Choose your focus for this practice
Selecting a focus personalises the step text below.
Before you begin
What to gather
- Two pieces of paper, or one you can tear in half
- Something to write with
- A way to safely burn paper — a candle, a small dish, a safe outdoor space
- A drink you love. Somewhere comfortable
- Fifteen to thirty minutes that belong only to you
The practice
1
Settle in
Before you write anything, just arrive. Take a few slow breaths. You are not here to do this correctly. You are here to be honest with yourself — which is actually the harder, and more powerful, thing.
Hold your chosen focus — your life — gently in mind as you begin. You don't need to force it. Let it be the lens.
2
Write the old rules
On one side of the paper, write every rule you hold around your life. Let it be a little messy — you are not editing here. Some of these rules were made by you, some handed to you by others, some formed by a version of you that needed them at the time. Write them all without argument.
They might start with: "I can only… when…" or "People like me don't…" or "It's not safe to…" Whatever is true right now, even uncomfortably so.
They might start with: "I can only… when…" or "People like me don't…" or "It's not safe to…" Whatever is true right now, even uncomfortably so.
See the examples below if you want somewhere to start.
3
Write the new rules
On the other side, reimagine each one. You do not have to fully believe the new rule yet. What if this could be true is enough. Let the new rules feel a little strange — that strangeness is growth doing its work.
As you write, notice which part of you is loudest. The one that wants to perform. The one that says you are not allowed. The fearful one. The grieving one. That presence is useful information.
As you write, notice which part of you is loudest. The one that wants to perform. The one that says you are not allowed. The fearful one. The grieving one. That presence is useful information.
4
Rip and release
Tear the paper between the two sides.
Burn the old rules — and as you do, say to yourself or out loud:
"I release these. They are no longer what I have to adhere to."
Burn the new rules as an offering — not destruction, but a handover:
"I give these to you, and I trust you to help me alchemise them."
Burn the old rules — and as you do, say to yourself or out loud:
"I release these. They are no longer what I have to adhere to."
Burn the new rules as an offering — not destruction, but a handover:
"I give these to you, and I trust you to help me alchemise them."
You can address this to the universe, your higher self, your guides — whatever word fits the way you hold the sacred. The specifics matter less than the genuine act of letting go.
5
Sit with what rose
Don't rush to the next thing. Give yourself a few minutes after the burning. Notice what you feel. Journal, voice-note yourself, or just sit in it. The practice doesn't end with the flame — it ends when you're ready to move.
See it in practice
Creativity
Old rules
Creativity only counts if someone pays me for it
I need a big block of free time before I can create
I have to have something to show for it
If I'm not consistent, I'm not a real creative
New rules
Creating for myself is enough. That's the whole point
Ten minutes is enough to make something real
The process is the product
Creativity flows in seasons, not streaks
Health & Wellbeing
Old rules
Rest is something I have to earn
If I miss a day, I've failed
My body is something to manage, not listen to
Taking care of myself is selfish
New rules
Rest is medicine. I don't have to earn it
One day at a time. Every fresh start counts
My body is always speaking. I get to learn its language
Caring for myself makes me more, not less
Money
Old rules
Money is something other people have
Wanting more makes me greedy
I always mess it up eventually
I have to work myself to the bone to deserve it
New rules
Money flows to people who believe they're worthy of it
Desiring abundance is human and healthy
I am learning, and learning is not failing
I can receive well, not just work hard
Go deeper — journal prompts
If you want to sit with it longer
Which rule surprised me most when I wrote it down?
The ones that have been running longest are often the hardest to see.
Where did that rule come from? Who or what gave it to me?
Not to assign blame — just to locate it outside yourself.
Which new rule felt most uncomfortable to write? What might that be telling me?
Discomfort in this kind of work usually points toward something true.
Which part of me showed up most during this practice?
Name it. Giving it a name gives you more choice about how to respond to it.
What would my life look and feel like if even one new rule were quietly operating in the background?
Let yourself imagine this. The imagining is already part of the work.
A declaration to carry with you
The old rules kept me safe once.
Now I get to choose new ones.
Now I get to choose new ones.
This practice was shared with me by my mentor Crystal the Oracle — a gifted teacher whose work on releasing inherited rules and reclaiming personal authority has deeply shaped the way I hold space. I am grateful to pass it forward. If this practice moves you, her work is worth exploring.