Piano Practice

On routine and sand worms

What is it about routine that I find so comforting? Moreover, why do people seek out routine as they get older? I’m asking this as I drink my third cup of tea of the day, sitting in the same spot I prefer to sit when writing, while gaming out the rest of the afternoon, which involves one excursion to the movies to see Dune 2 with my son and then home as quickly as I can so that I can resume my routine of sitting in this same spot doing more of the same.

Gee, when I put it that way, it sounds kind of sad.

What if I change the name from “routine” to “ritual”? Then, suddenly, it has a kind of spirituality about it, almost a nobility. Now it’s almost like I’m on a vision quest.  So yes, I’m going to see Dune 2 later this afternoon, then I will resume my ritual of sitting on my computer, eating chips, and watching poker on YouTube until about one o’clock in the morning.

It is true, though, that the older I get, the more satisfying routine becomes. As a younger person, I felt like I was always seeking novelty. Now I crave the familiar, the predictable. Maybe because novelty is no longer quite so novel. Newness ceases to amaze and becomes, instead, variations on a theme

Me, living my best goddamned life. .

It’s why new music never means as much to old ears as the songs of our youth. It’s why comfort foods are so comforting but nouvelle cuisine is not. It’s why there’s no place like home, no matter how lousy home might have been.

And maybe it’s why making lasting friendships becomes harder as you age. The people one meets later in life can’t possibly compare to one’s old friends, if for no other reason than it’s mildly exhausting being the new friend of somebody else. I don’t want to repeat my stories or explain myself or provide the answers to questions that no longer interest me. Yes, I toured the country as a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle but I don’t want to talk about it!

Then again, I don’t think I’m becoming rigid. In fact, part of my routine seems to involve throwing my life into chaos every now and again, as when we left our home in the wilds of Connecticut for urban life in the Deep South. Then we did it again when we left our city home in the Deep South for six months to go bopping around Rome and London. Both times, the novelty of the experience thrilled me, but both times I found myself carving out routine within my adventures. This café for my morning tea, this time of day for reading, that time of day for sightseeing.

Maybe life is best lived as a combination of the two, with one aspect weighted a little bit sometimes, another aspect another. When we’re younger and we seek out life’s sparkle and glitter, we structure our lives around maximum excitement. When we are older and life’s sparkle and glitter arrives from sources more internal than external, we seek experiences that enrich and clarify. We seek fewer grand adventures but want them to be more meaningful.

Routine, then, really does take on the role of ritual. Routine means you no longer have to think quite so much about life’s sensorial delights. When that happens, our attention naturally turns towards more contemplative tasks. The body slows but the mind still revs. Routine provides brain fuel. When I know what I’m doing, I can do it more deeply; routine is piano practice.

Routine, I think, is also a springboard for gratitude. When we choose ritual in our lives, it’s because we have found a way to structure our lives in ways that please and satisfy us. From there, it’s not even a hop, skip, and jump over to that place where we experience thankfulness. Routine is a gift. It is time bent to our will, the ultimate luxury.

Alright, I’m off to the movies with my son. We have a ritual: I buy the tickets and the snacks and he graces me with his company. I’m satisfied with our movie-going routine and I’m grateful for it. If Dune 2 sucks, however, I will never have anything to do with him ever again. That may sound like disowning my son will upset my routine, but like I said, I also love chaos. We’ve got a lot riding on these sand worms. Wish us luck.