Last Tuesday, my husband and I got into a silly argument about a lamp.

Too bright, too dim, too “office-y.”

We paused, touched palms for a full exhale, and then laughed at how quickly the mood shifted.

That tiny ritual—one breath together—turned a pointless spiral into a soft landing.

This piece is a collection of simple rituals like that.

Nothing dramatic.

Just repeatable, low-effort practices that keep two humans tuned to each other through work, stress, and the occasional lamp debate.

Use what resonates, adapt the rest, and build your own rhythm.

1. Start the day with a 3-minute check-in

Before phones, news, or chores, sit together.

Ask, “How’s your energy? What do you need today?”

Three minutes.

No problem-solving.

Just presence.

I like to place a hand on my chest and one on his shoulder.

It’s a body cue that says, “We’re on the same team.”

End with one sentence each: “Today I’ll support us by ____.”

Small promises build big trust.

What would your sentence be this morning?

2. Share a “repair phrase” you both know by heart

Every couple fights.

What matters is how fast you repair.

Choose a phrase you both agree to honor:

• “Same team.”
• “Let’s rewind.”
• “Pause and breathe.”

Relationship researchers at The Gottman Institute call these “repair attempts,” and they’re one of the strongest predictors of long-term stability.

As Dr. John Gottman puts it, “Small things often.”

Tape your phrase to the fridge for a week and see how it changes your next disagreement.

3. Do a six-second reunion

When one of you returns home—or even reappears from a home office—reunite on purpose.

Eyes.

Smile.

Hug or kiss for six full seconds.

Why six?

It’s long enough to shift your nervous system out of “task mode” and back into connection.

Make it playful if you need to.

Count out loud.

Hum.

Add a goofy bow.

The point is intentional contact, not perfection.

4. Keep a shared “gratitude stash”

Before bed, each of you contributes one line to a running note: something you appreciated about the other that day.

It can be ordinary.

• “Thanks for making coffee.”
• “Thanks for telling me you were overwhelmed.”

On tough weeks, read the last ten lines together.

Gratitude won’t erase real issues, but it does keep your brain from only scanning for threats.

You’ll sleep easier when you’ve already told each other the good.

5. Hold a weekly planning date with snacks

Every Sunday, we sit with calendars, snacks, and a candle.

Twenty minutes.

We look at the week ahead, name the pressure points, and assign support: rides, meals, workouts, solitude time.

We also add one fun thing—micro-fun counts.

A new trail for a walk.

Five-minute dance party after dinner.

Joy deserves a place on the schedule.

If you don’t plan for it, errands will eat it.

6. Trade micro-moments of affection during the day

Affection doesn’t need a grand gesture.

It needs frequency.

Sprinkle your day with tiny bids for connection.

Here are quick ideas you can steal and customize:

• A two-handed squeeze when you pass in the hallway

• A one-line “thinking of you” text with a specific detail

• Sharing the last bite of something delicious

• A 10-second shoulder rub while the kettle boils

• A post-meeting walk-by high-five

Choose two for this week.

Repeat them until they feel automatic.

You’ll start to feel like you’re weaving a net before you ever need it.

7. Eat tech-free meals—yes, even quick ones

I’m not rigid about phones, but I’m protective of meals.

Even a ten-minute breakfast without screens changes the tone of a day.

Make the table a small ceremony.

Water in real glasses.

A cloth napkin.

One question you both answer: “What do I want to feel by tonight?”

No debates.

No audits.

Just a meal that says, “You matter to me more than my feed.”

Notice how the conversation softens when your eyes aren’t competing with a glowing rectangle.

8. Practice “parallel play” for stress relief

You don’t have to do everything together to feel close.

Sometimes the most connecting ritual is simple proximity while each person does their thing.

Read while they paint miniatures.

Do a puzzle while they code.

Sit on the balcony with tea and watch the city exhale.

Set a timer for 25 minutes.

When it dings, share one sentence about what felt good in that pocket of time.

Doing this weekly taught me that I don’t need constant interaction to feel loved.

I need shared space where we’re both allowed to breathe.

9. Align on boundaries: love with clean lines

Healthy couples don’t outsource their wholeness to each other.

That means boundaries.

Time alone.

Friendships that aren’t always shared.

Money rules that reduce friction.

This is where Rudá Iandê’s new book, Laughing in the Face of Chaos: A Politically Incorrect Shamanic Guide for Modern Life, nudged me hard.

His insights helped me see that when I take responsibility for my inner weather, our marriage gets easier, not heavier.

As he writes, “Their happiness is their responsibility, not yours.”

That line freed me to be generous without over-functioning.

It also invited my husband to show up for himself with more honesty.

If boundaries feel scary, start tiny:

Choose one boundary you can articulate in a single sentence.

Share it kindly, and hold it consistently for one week.

Then reassess together.

10. Run a monthly “state of us” conversation

Once a month, schedule a short meeting about your relationship rather than inside it.

Light a candle.

Hold hands.

Then answer three questions:

• What’s working?
• What’s tender or tense?
• What do we want to try this month?

Keep it practical.

Pick one small experiment—an earlier bedtime, a midweek lunch, a pause word for conflicts.

Track how it feels.

You’re building a relationship that learns.

That’s resilience.

Next steps

Before we finish, there’s one more thing I need to address.

Rituals are not a substitute for repair, therapy, or accountability.

They’re the scaffolding that lets two imperfect people keep building.

Pick two rituals from this list.

Practice them for a month.

Then add a third.

If you want a deeper nudge toward personal responsibility inside your relationship, I’ve mentioned this before and I’ll mention it again: Rudá Iandê’s Laughing in the Face of Chaos inspired me to question the stories I lean on when I’m stressed and to come back to my body when I want connection but feel defended.

One line stays with me: “When we stop resisting ourselves, we become whole.

And in that wholeness, we discover a reservoir of strength, creativity, and resilience we never knew we had.”

Start small.

Stay kind.

Build the rituals that make love easier to feel, not harder to prove.

And if a lamp tries to start a fight tonight, try the palm-to-palm breath.

You might be surprised how much tenderness arrives in one quiet exhale.