Today finds me in a ruminative state of mind, and what I'm ruminating about is ... ruts.
Yes, those deep, narrow canyons in muddy roads worn down by over-frequent tyre-contact, that it's difficult to get out of. I mean habits. Lifestyle. Routines. Repetitive acts into which by chance or design we have fallen. At the age I am now, I have a lot. That's how we survive. We can't continuously scrutinate* every action afresh to judge whether it is worth continuing. We must focus on the other more important things, besides, if it ain't broke, don't fix it, right? And ruts work. They get you places. I'm goin' somewhere, man. Groove-y! The trouble is, what if you want to go somewhere else? Inject a little spontaneity into your life and suddenly decide you want to visit Quthing, Lesotho for some reason? Then you're gonna want out of that rut. And what happens when we try to get out of ruts? It's hard. It takes effort. If you're on a bike you might fall over and get a mouthful of dirt.
In short, ruts suck.
But we are in them, often unconsciously, which is of course the nature of the rut. We do 'em on autopilot, allowing us instead to focus on the more important things, like replaying scenes from old films in our minds, such as Jim Carrey squeezing himself out of the ass of a giant rhino.
If you're anything like me, you wake up in the morning. You stretch. You wash my face. If it's a work day and you're prone to unnecessary facial hair, you shave. You go downstairs and play with and feed the dog. You put three cups and a glass on the kitchen counter and prepare the Four Drinks of the Healthy Lifestyle Apocalypse: coffee, warm water, green tea and orange juice. You take them upstairs and imbibe them in the following order: warm water, to clean your insides; coffee, because it tastes nice; orange juice, because it's cold; and finally, once it's had a chance to cool down slightly, the green tea, which if you're not careful can burn the darn mouth off you.
So what's my point, I hear you ask, or in the comments, read. Well, my point is, as busy as my past year has become, I've been forced to prioritize, which has meant pruning my own personal tree of life. Snipping off the branches which, perhaps were nice to have, in order to make room for the more important trunk.
Perhaps I've pruned too much. Maybe the tree of life needs those branches, otherwise it's nothing but a pointy, brittle, fruitless, birdy-less stump, no more able to grow or bend than dry, dead wood.
It strikes me that a rut is basically a long, narrow, endless cage, with the same windowless view on either side that we sleepwalk along like automatons; blinkered shuffling sheep-zombies guided towards inevitable sheering, dipping, or worse - death.
On a happier note, solutions abound! Skive a day off a week just to do something different, new, fresh. Take risks. Leave your phone at home. Talk to strangers. Embark on journeys without knowing the destination. Do some of the stuff you haven't done for ages just for the hell of it.
Here, rather than me publish a long list of things I used to do that brought happiness, why don't you take out a piece of paper and a pencil and write down all those things you have fond memories of doing, but have not done in so long. Keep going until you can think of no more. Then stick it to your wall or door - wherever you can see it. Dip into it whenever you feel you're in a rut.
*I know.
