I have always striven towards consistency in my life, pattern, rhythm, routine, sameness. I don't like change, never have. I think I find comfort in the sameness of things. The same meal at a restaurant, because I know it's going to taste good. The same Christmas traditions year after year, because I know or at least hope it will produce that same childish feeling that those same traditions evoked when I was a kid.
Change as always denoted a negative in my mind, always. And yet, logically I know this to be false. Change is the only constant in the universe, or I should say one of the only constants. Yet, I still cling to the consistency of a thing, and oftentimes for mere consistency's sake. The same routine in the shower: shampoo, rinse, condition, wash the body, wash the face, rinse the conditioner, and if we're feeling lucky, a shave. Always the same. I may do it this way till I die, if I'm still taking showers by that point...
Routines for me are like slipping into an old comfy, worn our T-shirt; they're comfortable. It's the known. The expected. Yet, there is a part of my brain that likes the unexpected, or perhaps more the idea of the unexpected. I think I far too often cling to notions rather than reality, herein lies a huge rub. I cannot break from my nature of consistency, except to hope for a life of inconsistency and am ultimately left dissatisfied. Silliness.
I can't always have my sameness, I must realize this. If I cling to it too tightly I'm afraid it will be ripped from me anyway--might as well let it go gently so as not to endure the ripping. It might be time to get rid of that comfy, old T-shirt. Gosh darn it, I really liked that shirt...
