Routine, merely hearing that word can be liberating or an act of castreation. My life has been a feeble attempt at trying to escape the noise and clamour of the 9 to 5. This has resulted in over indulgence of imitating Kerouac, Bukowski and the like. I am not going to spend the greater part of mine and your evening lamenting the rat race. I will save that for the Marxists.
I am actually writing this as an apology in the Platonic sense, a defense of routine. No this does not mean that I am selling out or prioritizing greed, security and compliance. Instead I am offering some tips that I have learned over a quite hectic and tumultuous life. Much like Tyler Durden, I do not want to die without any scars.
As someone who suffers with melancholia, angst both the existential and clinical variety, I have come to realize that order, having some form of process helps tremendously.
When I am in what I refer to as my funk, something as simple as brushing my teeth feels like its inverse, pulling them. Having to care for my own skelton, small porcelain ravenous creatures that demand the utmost care, when I long for my own end. It feels like a cruel punishment from the Gods.
This is where having a checklist come in handy. Merely crossing off what must be done, no matter how trivial. Whether my obligation to check the boxes is the result of the fear of being accosted as a child, God forbid I neglected to take out the trash the night before (though as an adult I see the necessity of it). It may also stem from having to follow orders in the military. For example, if you miss a dental appointment you have to explain to the Command Master Chief, why you as government property are failing to obey an order.
The fact remains that discipline, and order help during the mental fog and bleakness of the winter of our souls. Merely having brush teeth, apply deodorant, eat makes a difference. I do not always follow through, but knowing that I have an item in limbo gnaws at me.
Routine can serve a higher purpose, sure it is conditioning in disguise, an attempt at parenting ourselves. Sometimes that is needed. I promised you all and myself that I would be transparent. Write what is true, and frankly sometimes I am a helpless child. Unable to tie his own shoelaces, without being told to do so. It took me until third grade to learn this invaluable skill.
The small items lead to the bigger ones and pay dividends. And may prevent cavities and Captains Mast. Figure out what items need to go on your list, no matter how miniscule or trivial. It will lead to less guilt, and obstructions. And may even get you to post another Substack.
Freedom in the existential sense is quite the burden. Sarte got that right, however it can also be liberating. Allowing us to turn ourselves and the days that follow into invigorating projects. Canvases that we paint a little each day. A little blue here, some shading and voilà you created something new, in an alien and inhuman world. All because you decided brushing your teeth is important.
Checklists should not be the sheers that make a eunuch, instead they are the seeds we plant now, that turn into our Epicurean garden. That offers refuge from the decaying and godless Rome of modernity.
Something about the jump from a poetic, “It feels like a cruel punishment from the Gods.” to a utilitarian, “This is where having a checklist come in handy” was chefs kiss for me 🫶🏼
Another excellent piece.
I have always found comfort in routine. Writing lists and crossing off items accomplished.