Entering a sacred space, he follows the first of many rituals without thinking. Using the water in a basin he cleanses his hands. Then he makes a sign in the air like a wizard casting a spell and kneels to the flame, as a knight kneels to his King.
Others join, following the same rituals.
The chanting begins. Words long engrained in memory, come easily to his lips. Most having no meaning anymore. But sometimes a word or phrase catches a loose neuron and sparks a series of thoughts, of reflections, only possible in this quiet world of familiar ritual.