In which I commit to routine

Photo by Booker T. Sessoms 2022

Thursday night, as the spouse and I were re-watching some British murder-mystery, as we do almost daily, I turned to him and whined: “We never do anything!” He burst out laughing: “We literally just moved to another country!”

And so we did.

But we are creatures of habit and those habits follow us wherever we go. As we settle into our new place, routines are already forming, some old, some new. Daily rhythms, favorite walks, foods and haunts we gravitate towards.

Routines can feel both empowering and severely limiting. We tend to think of them differently depending on the words we use. For example, I think I’d find it difficult to have a “meditation-routine.” It sounds stale to me, as if meditation is something I do just because I always do it. It feels much more honest to say that I am committed to daily meditation: there is grit and loyalty there, an acknowledgement that sticking to it requires work. But there is a danger too: I know by experience I tend to over-commit, both in terms of scope and time. I tend to take on too much and hold on for slightly too long.

These are the questions I sit with. When do routines become a cop-out, a way to avoid engaging with life? And at which point does a commitment turn into an unhealthy obsession or way to stay in the past? There is no one answer, and whatever answer we each give will necessarily change over time.

Right now, in this new space, with new horizons and smells and tastes and sounds, the routines emerging seem to serve us. We are sufficiently awakened by novelty, that whatever emerges is authentic and real.

And that is truly the crux of the matter: staying awake. I am committed to that, knowing full well that it requires lots of daily work.