There is a beautiful rhythm and predictability in a healthy routine.
I’m not talking about the mundane or mind numbing routines our immediate supervisor hurls at us when we are at work, in order to extract more productivity and efficiency from our efforts.
I am talking about the habits we ourselves form. Routines, which after some prolonged effort, morph into dependable building blocks, that keep us moving in the right direction.
Once in a while however, those routines are broken.
Our wonderful hamster wheel halts suddenly and most unexpectedly. The treadmill motor burns out. The power goes out. Everything stops.
It happened this morning. I was awoken at two o’clock in the morning by a sweet little girl who threw up her dinner into a blue Lightning McQueen bucket. Don’t ask. It was originally used for bath time, but now seems to serve a much higher purpose.
I didn’t wake up at 4:02 this morning. I didn’t go to the gym. I didn’t get to write this blog. My diet has been suspect, at best. I didn’t get to work on almost anything, and now that the day is ending, I sit here, forcing myself to steal some time away from my lovely children, to compose a few simple words because I have a promise to keep. A daily ditch to dig.
I feel unsettled. Unproductive. Dark thoughts of failure, negativity, and frustration are returning. I feel like just tuning out and binge watching television or doing something else that will let me run away from it all, but I know I can’t.
This is the difference between an amateur and a professional. I know that now. The difference between doing and being. Between naivety and wisdom.
It is at this very moment that I realize I need to keep moving. Do what you can. Do the bare minimum. Focus on a miniscule task. Something. Anything.
Tomorrow will bring with it a new opportunity. Tomorrow, offers a return to routine.
Cheers to the broken hamster wheel, the burned-out motor, the powerless moments.
Cheers to 354 words.