We humans like routines, even when we think we don't.
I have fought routine my entire life, seeing it in my OCD-now-Alzheimer's-afflicted mother's life as chains around the neck.
We are ever seeking comfort, grounding, the metal teeth that fit perfectly in the grooves that turn our days. Some days we are happy with the inspiration, the beauty, the cat curled in the lap before a fire, snowflakes falling outside as we tap away at our story lines.
And some days we awaken and want to fall back asleep.
But our routines can call to us from the warm comfort of sleep: I enjoy this early-morning sitting before the fire with our animal-family, sipping my coffee, reading e-mail and our little 5-day-daily paper, wondering what I will learn or do as I pursue my current interests. . . learning the Tarot, meditating, painting, knitting, playing with all kinds of art (key word for me: "playing"), reading, writing, visiting with friends here, perhaps.
I have also learned how to use the infernal Facebook without its driving me insane, zipping through it once or twice a day (or less often if I'm not at home), much as I zip through most of our newspaper----rather like chatting internally with friends and acquaintances. On occasion, I learn something useful or even inspiring, and I am able to lightly touch upon some folk I love who live too far away. This is good routine, I suppose, yet I've never liked or been good at chatting.
But routines are meant to be broken.
I spent the first half of my life bucking against routine, but in this second half, my body seems to beg for a schedule—at least, it requires sleeping and waking hours to stay the same throughout the week. Even while my soul yearns for more freedom stay up into the wee hours, my body says, nope, 9 pm, time for bed.
ReplyDeleteAh, yes. . . sleeping and waking hours do tend to settle in to a routine. I watched a little British film online recently---CASHBACK---in which the main character, an artist, learned to slow and eventually stop time during a few weeks in which he could no longer sleep. He saw it at first as merely an additional 8 hours in his day, but then it became the time when he learned to SEE more clearly, to appreciate the moment(s) of beauty all around him.
ReplyDeleteYup, I've relearned (redefined for myself) the comfort and grace of routine, too ... and wonder about the shackles these comforts offer. Still, I do find my mind freed up exponentially when I lean into rhythms and decide on certain schedules (though they feel way more organic than what I experienced in school and in the work place!) instead of reinventing my life everyday :-).
ReplyDeleteBeautifully said, Jane. . . These opposites that coexist (as you say---shackles that are comfortable) are amazing.
ReplyDeleteI like your calling "routines" instead "rhythms"! A rhythm is much more natural and body-centered.
Thanks!