Beauty in Routines

Tonight’s reflection is centered around routines.

The rebellious teenager I once was wanted nothing to do with rules, schedules, or routines. I never wanted to feel tied down by structure. Yet in my current life, I find that routines give me comfort. The predictability of them is actually pleasant.

I imagine many of us worry. I know I do. Much of what we worry about stems from fearing the unknown, whatever comes next, or the things beyond our control.

Routines are different. They rely on you and your schedule, not someone else's. Some routines become a part of who you are. Take going to the gym, for example. You may go several times a week, missing very few days. You know that tomorrow you'll wake up, get ready, and head to the gym, just as you've done for months or years. There is comfort in that consistency.

I used to avoid routines. I hated predictability. I was more spontaneous and carefree. I was the kid who dreaded cleaning his room, doing homework, studying, going to the gym, and just about anything that didn't involve listening to music or playing it.

At 35, I find myself enjoying the little things. As much as I dream about retiring early, sticking it to corporate America, and doing my own thing, I don't mind the life I've built. I don't mind work. I don't mind sweeping the floor or doing laundry.

In fact, I find those tasks relaxing.

Simple chores require your attention. They ask for your mental and physical presence, and in doing so, they pull you away from whatever else may be occupying your mind. In moments spent sweeping, packing my son's lunch, or washing dishes, I often find a sense of calm. Those small routines and tasks I perform every night, or most nights, have become a source of peace.

Zen Buddhists have a concept called samu, a form of working meditation. The idea is simple: fully engage in the task in front of you. Lean into what you're doing. Focus on it completely, no matter how ordinary it may seem. There is something meaningful about giving your full attention to even the most mundane responsibilities.

Not too long ago, I wrote about travel and my love for it. What I didn't talk about is how, three or four days into almost every vacation, no matter how much fun I'm having, I begin to miss home.

I miss my routine.

I could be in the middle of a dream vacation, visiting places I've wanted to see for years, and still find myself longing for home. I miss the comfort. I miss the familiarity. I miss the predictability.

Maybe I get homesick easily.

There's peace, or at least there should be peace, in every home. Home is where we take refuge from the world.

So what am I really trying to say?

After a long mental pause, I think it comes down to this: routines are essential to my life. That repetition, that familiarity, that steady process of doing what is in my nature to do, pursuing goals, and overcoming challenges, gives my life structure and meaning.

I think it's important that we occasionally stop and reflect. To reprioritize. To find joy in the smaller, more mundane tasks that make up so much of our lives.

Not everything is fun. Not everything is enjoyable.

But if there is purpose in doing it, then it is worth doing.

As I've gotten older, I've realized that routines are not the enemy of freedom. They create the foundation that allows us to live well. There is dignity in the ordinary: sweeping the floor, packing a lunch, washing dishes, showing up to the gym, and caring for the people we love.

We spend so much of our lives chasing extraordinary moments that we sometimes overlook the quiet beauty of the everyday. Yet it is often in those small, repeated acts that a meaningful life is built.