For the past several weeks I’ve been working, living, sleeping, like a sailboat adrift at sea. No anchor, no sail, no wind, no direction.
I am a creature of habit (aren’t you?, don’t tell me you aren’t!).
I am a lists and to-dos and must-dos kind of person. I love creating Time Tables and Short-term, mid-term and long-term goal grids on Excel. Beautifully colour coded which I eventually forget.
I love to get going with the time table. It gives me great energy, purpose, direction, wind.
I love the feeling that there’s a lot I can achieve.
Of course somewhere along the way I slip up, get lazy, make faces at the time tables, look at awe at my excel grids and feel:
not necessarily in that order. Then it’s time to whip my own ass so to speak and get myself up and running. So this is a pattern. Of course over the course of several years and coaching, I have learnt not to beat myself up about it.
I also realise that I keep getting back to the routine because without the Routine, I feel bereft. It’s an anchor that helps me focused and for that period when I’m ready to undergo the Routine therapy, I feel all charged, like a bull in a Spanish bull-fight. Nostrils flared, eyes ablaze, grunting with the hot breath coming out of the flared nostrils, hoofs at the ready, to leap into fight and perhaps flight mode.
So now, after several weeks of working hard, doing things, but not sticking to R, I finally couldn’t breathe as I felt I was letting myself go. The meditation, the blog, the journaling, the walking, the yoga, the guitar practice, yeah, it was all in the realm of “once upon a time”. It was slowly seeping into me like a blood stain on a white cloth. So I woke up today and decided to go for my walk. Enough!
I made a time table for myself for the day – not for the entire week, month or year, just today – and glad to say have ticked off all but 2 items from the list. Yoo hoo! I feel so much more centred and grounded and in control. Life has purpose again.
So hey, don’t deride Routine, it’s essential. They’re the handrails that keep you from swinging over that rope bridge 8,000 feet in the air, helping you cross the chasm slowly, but surely. Wild swings, deep breaths, pauses and the fear that engulfs you when you look down not knowing if you’ll make it to the other side is really how life is. But baby, one step at a time, deep breath. Your aim? Get to the other side, that piece of jutting rock however cruel is your harbour and you’ve got to make it. So give me an R, give me an O, give me an U…oh you know the Routine.