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Shows how people without a religion can borrow, adapt or invent rituals for births, weddings, birthdays, apologies and grief by tracing old traditions back to the seasons, the planet's orbit and shared human needs.

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If you don’t share the faith behind Christmas, a baptism or a weekly service, the big moments of life can pass with nothing to mark them, and some comfort and community go with them. In For Small Creatures Such as We, writer and filmmaker Sasha Sagan argues that the gap can be filled, because most rituals were never really owned by one religion. Trace them back and you find the tilt of the Earth, its orbit around the Sun, and needs every person shares: to welcome, to apologize, to grieve.
Sagan is a secular writer and the daughter of the scientist Carl Sagan, and she builds her case from traditions around the world and from rituals she has made for herself. Anyone, she argues, can borrow, bend or invent traditions that tie milestones to the people they love and to a universe that produced them against long odds. Along the way there is a weekly alphabet song, a tea party for the first spring flower and a candle that behaves like starlight.
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A woman on a New York subway car in 1938 stopped a stranger from turning a page. That small moment holds a lesson about how unlikely every life is, and why that deserves a welcome.
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Plenty of people who never attend a service say they have no rituals at all. Look at a normal week more closely, though, and something that already works like worship may be hiding in plain sight.
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Easter, Passover and a Japanese fertility festival seem to have nothing in common. Line them up against a small angle in the solar system, and a pattern appears that anyone can celebrate, believer or not.
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Confession booths, chest-beating on Yom Kippur and a folded piece of paper after a baby’s birth all point at one human need. Meeting it well can ease guilt and mend a bond that a small hurt has strained.
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A Yiddish word fills a gap English leaves open, and a Greek goddess of the moon may explain the candles on your cake. Both show how the circle of a year can hold joy and grief.
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Thrown rice, wheat in a bride’s braids and a ring on one particular finger all began for reasons most guests have forgotten. Knowing those reasons frees a couple to choose what truly belongs in their day.
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In some places families dig up their dead on purpose, and they do it out of love. Customs like this reveal what grief needs, and none of it depends on believing in an afterlife.
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What Sagan keeps showing is that rituals people assume belong to one faith mostly belong to everyone. Follow a wedding, a weekly gathering or a candle on a cake back to its roots and you reach the angle of the Earth, its circle around the Sun and the needs of a social animal that must welcome, apologize and mourn. That makes a secular person an heir to these traditions, free to keep them, change them or start fresh.
Start with something you already repeat, a morning coffee or a weekly call, and give it a moment of attention to the people in it and the long chain of chance behind it. Look at the calendar ahead, find a solstice, a birthday or the anniversary of a loss, and decide now how you will mark it. And when winter ends, look for your own first blossom, in a garden or a park, and celebrate it with someone.
Sagan’s grandmother once stopped a stranger from turning a page too soon. Rituals do that for a life: they make us pause long enough to notice we are here at all.
Many of the rituals that mark a life, from baptisms to Christmas to funerals, come wrapped in religious belief. For people who don't share that belief, the big moments can feel strangely bare, with no ceremony to welcome a child, mark a year or carry a loss. Sasha Sagan argues that this gap can be closed. When she traces traditions back to their roots, she finds the 23.4-degree tilt of the Earth, its yearly trip around the Sun and the plain needs of a social animal: to celebrate, to make amends, to grieve. Spring festivals across faiths celebrate rebirth. Autumn festivals honor the dead. Birthday candles may go back to the cult of the Greek goddess Artemis. The book mixes this history with Sagan's own rituals: coffee in bed as a daily moment of wonder, a weekly alphabet song with her husband, a monthly dinner club, a yahrzeit candle for lost family and a wedding built from Jewish, Christian and Greek traditions. Readers get permission and practical models for making rituals of their own.
Secular or loosely religious people who want meaningful ways to mark births, weddings, birthdays and deaths.
New parents, couples and people planning a wedding who want traditions that feel personal.
Anyone grieving or feeling disconnected who wants regular rituals that build closeness and community.
Sasha Sagan was born in 1982 in Ithaca, New York, and graduated from New York University. She has worked as a writer, television producer, filmmaker and editor in New York City, Boston and London, and she also hosts a podcast. Her essays look at death, history, travel and ritual through the lens of science. They have appeared in New York Magazine and O, The Oprah Magazine, and she has been a contributing editor at The Violet Book, a British fashion magazine.
Listeners consider this a wonderful book that offers meaningful perspectives on the importance and practice of rituals. Furthermore, they enjoy the positive atmosphere of the work, and one listener mentions how effectively it conveys the author’s sense of wonder regarding existence and the cosmos. The work is also praised for its spiritual nature, as one review points out its considerate treatment of both secular and faith-based viewpoints. On the other hand, opinions on the prose are divided; while some describe the writing as brilliant, others feel it is lacking in quality.
Sasha Sagan has a way of making the mundane feel miraculous. As a secular person often looking for meaning in a chaotic world, I found her exploration of rituals to be incredibly grounding and necessary. She doesn't just list historical facts; she weaves her own life as Carl Sagan’s daughter into a tapestry of human connection. The way she discusses milestones like birth and death without needing supernatural explanations is a breath of fresh air. Frankly, the chapter on how she navigates her daughter’s upbringing with a sense of wonder really moved me to tears. It’s a beautifully written testament to the idea that science and awe aren't mutually exclusive. While some might find her personal anecdotes a bit much, I felt they added a necessary human element to the philosophical heavy lifting. This book is a warm hug for the skeptical soul.
Show moreFinally got around to reading this during a particularly stressful month, and it was exactly the medicine I needed. Sasha Sagan manages to capture a sense of cosmic joy that is both infectious and deeply comforting. She approaches both religious and nonreligious perspectives with such a high level of respect that I think anyone could find value here. I’ve been looking for a way to mark the passing of time without feeling like I’m just going through the motions. This book provided a roadmap for that. The truth is, her perspective on life being a rare and precious gift is something we all need to hear more often. Her writing is luminous, turning even simple daily tasks into opportunities for gratitude and reflection. It’s one of those rare books that makes you want to go outside and just stare at the stars for hours.
Show moreAs someone who struggles with finding a sense of community outside of a church, this book felt like a revelation. Sasha Sagan provides a framework for creating meaning that is based on evidence and the natural world, which is exactly what I’ve been looking for. Her voice is welcoming and inclusive, never looking down on those with different beliefs. The chapters on the change of seasons were especially beautiful, reminding me to notice the tilt of the Earth and the blooming of flowers. It’s a book that celebrates the sheer luck of our existence. Not gonna lie, I’ve already started implementing some of the small rituals she mentions, like being more intentional with my morning coffee. It’s about finding the sacred in the secular, and she does it brilliantly. This is a must-read for anyone who feels that 'vastness' her father famously spoke about and wants to feel a little less small.
Show moreWow, what a gorgeous piece of writing. Sasha Sagan has inherited her parents' gift for making science feel like poetry. This book isn't just a list of rituals; it’s an invitation to fall in love with reality. I was deeply moved by the stories of her father’s illness and how her family used their worldview to find comfort during such a dark time. It’s rare to find a book that is so intellectually honest yet so emotionally resonant. Every chapter left me feeling a little more grateful for my own tiny place in the cosmos. I’ve already bought three copies to give to friends as gifts. If you’re looking for something that captures the sheer wonder of being a 'small creature' in this vast universe, this is the book for you. It’s brilliant, respectful, and truly life-affirming.
Show moreEver wonder why we feel the need to blow out candles or toast with a glass of wine? This book dives deep into the 'why' behind our most common traditions, stripping away the dogma to find the core human need for ceremony. Sagan’s writing is accessible and often poetic, especially when she’s describing the vastness of the cosmos in relation to our tiny lives. To be fair, there are moments where the pacing slows down as she lists various cultural practices, making it feel a bit like a textbook. However, the emotional payoff of her family stories keeps it from being too dry. I particularly enjoyed her take on how we can create our own meaningful traditions without a religious framework. It’s a thoughtful read that encourages you to slow down and appreciate the small, rhythmic beauties of life.
Show moreThe chapter on fasting really stayed with me, even if I didn't agree with every single point the author made. Sagan explores how we can use physical experiences to cultivate empathy, which is a powerful concept. I found her writing style to be quite elegant, though there were times when her 'new-age' vibes clashed with my more analytical mindset. Personally, I would have liked a bit more scientific rigor in the sections discussing biology and nature. However, the emotional core of the book—how we grieve and how we celebrate—is handled with incredible grace. It’s a great read for anyone trying to build a meaningful life outside of traditional religion. She creates a welcoming space for curiosity, even if some of her solutions feel a bit simplistic for complex global issues. It’s a solid, thought-provoking addition to the shelf for any secular seeker.
Show morePicked this up because I’ve always been a fan of Ann Druyan and Carl Sagan, and I wanted to see Sasha’s perspective. It’s a beautiful, if somewhat rambling, account of how she has navigated her life as a secular Jew. The way she describes her wedding and the birth of her daughter is truly moving and filled with a contagious sense of bravery. She tackles the big questions—life, death, and everything in between—with a refreshing lack of cynicism. My only real gripe is that the book leans heavily into being a biography rather than a guide on rituals. Look, if you’re looking for a hard science book, this isn’t it, but it’s a wonderful meditation on what it means to be alive. The writing is vivid and warm, making it an easy and enjoyable read for a weekend. I came away feeling more connected to the world around me.
Show moreThis book is essentially an ode to the human spirit and our innate desire to connect with something larger than ourselves. Sagan does a fantastic job of glossing through hundreds of rituals from various cultures, showing the common threads that bind us all. While I found the encyclopedic sections a bit brief, the overarching message of finding joy in the universe is powerful. The writing quality is generally high, though a few sections felt a bit sappy for my taste. In my experience, books like this can often fall into 'new-age' traps, but Sagan stays grounded in her scientific upbringing. She manages to be both a skeptic and a dreamer, which is a difficult balance to strike. It’s a great read for a book club because there are so many themes to unpack regarding culture and tradition. Overall, it’s an uplifting and insightful piece of nonfiction.
Show moreNot exactly what I expected based on the marketing, but it had its moments of genuine beauty. I went into this looking for a deep dive into the history of secular ritual, but it felt much more like a memoir of Sasha Sagan’s personal journey and her relationship with her parents. While her love for Carl Sagan is touching, the narrative often feels a bit self-absorbed. At times, the tone shifts into something that feels a little preachy, like she’s trying too hard to convince the reader of her worldview. The repetition of the word 'ritual' also became a bit grating after the tenth chapter. That said, her insights on the changing seasons and the ways humans mark time are quite lovely. If you enjoy memoirs with a philosophical bent, you'll probably like this more than I did. It’s decent, just not the scientific exploration I was hoping for.
Show moreI honestly found this quite boring and a bit pretentious. While I admire the legacy of her father, Sasha Sagan’s own writing feels like it’s trying way too hard to be profound without actually saying much that is new. The constant use of the word 'ritual' became almost comical by the end of the book. I also found the chapter where she discusses her sex life to be incredibly awkward and unnecessary; it felt out of place in a book about cosmic wonder. Truth is, it felt more like a lecture on how she thinks we should live rather than an exploration of human history. For someone who claims to value scientific inquiry, there were several sections that felt more like 'care-bear' fluff than actual analysis. I really wanted to like this because of the subject matter, but the execution just felt flat and repetitive. I'm clearly not the target audience for this one.
Show moreSasha Sagan explores how people without a religious faith can still mark life’s milestones with ritual. She traces traditions for birth, weddings, birthdays, apologies, seasons and death back to their roots, finding nature’s cycles and shared human needs underneath. Her argument is that because these rituals rest on our common humanity, anyone can borrow, adapt or invent them, and she describes many of her own along the way.
Start with what you already repeat and add attention to it, as Sagan does when she reflects on the chain behind her morning coffee. Weekly rhythms work well because they feel special without being easy to drop. Mark the seasons, as her mother did with Blossom Day, a tea party for the first dogwood flower. And borrow freely from any tradition that speaks to you.
Sagan links them to the seasons, which exist because Earth’s axis tilts about 23.4 degrees. Spring festivals such as Easter, Passover and Japan’s Kanamara Matsuri all celebrate rebirth. Autumn holidays honoring the dead, from Día de los Muertos to Pchum Ben, echo the Celtic feast of Samhain. Winter lights and bonfires welcome the lengthening days after the solstice.
She sees death rituals as some of the oldest human practices, noting that even Neanderthals buried their kin. Customs such as covering mirrors in Jewish homes or putting up posters on death anniversaries in parts of Bulgaria help the living process loss and keep them from grieving alone. Sagan herself lights a yahrzeit candle for family members, a flame she compares to the lingering light of a distant star.
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