Routine thoughts
If a thought process about something as routine as Routine can be dedicated to someone, I would do it to my father. A stay in my parental home is punctuated by his routine. Rhythmic footsteps at 4.30 am sharp, walking from 6 am to 6. 45 am, summer, winter or rain; at 8 am sharp emerging footsteps from the bathroom, washed clothes in hand, at 8.30 at the breakfast table, at the same place, with the same pieces of crockery…and so the day progresses. His routine includes catnaps while reading the newspaper and keeping an eye and ear open for my mother’s well being including giving her tablets, encouragement, a joint peep into current affairs over breakfast and presiding over the Family Parliament after the 5 pm biscuits.
My father is 95 years old.
The only change that has occurred is that from brisk walks outdoors, he walks within the house, in tiny cautious steps, with the help of a walker. His intellect has retained its stride though. It is not as if he always led a staid, rigid limited life. As a busy government official he traveled frequently. He bathed in trains at the same time, walked in whichever city he was…Routine and discipline, he would say, go hand in hand, and together they have sustained him, physically, mentally and emotionally through failing eyesight and hearing.
I remember my grandmother’s routine: it was as if each moment had a purity and personality of its own, the before-bath part of the day textured differently from the after-bath part. Lunch had sanctity, and she relaxed after that. Evening likewise. I can almost smell the fragrance of the incense stick lit with the lamp at the same time, the serenity that enveloped the house with her chants…. dramatically narrated bedtime epics cozily summed up the day’s routine-the grandmother’s and the little child’s.
Little child…wonder what a child’s routine today would be like today. A packed day, with packed snacks, packed lunch and series of classes, competitions…like packets of fast food, the day parceled in packages. And I guess the present day grandmother, in case she does catch an occasional glimpse of her grandchild’s life, would be herself caught in the web …
Doing the same thing at the same time can be termed robotic. Lack of imagination, creativity or just plain old laziness find solace in routine. Nature probably devised the biological clock so that the planet wouldn’t go haywire with purposelessness. Variety in species with varying routines created eco-balance. From polar bears to seeds, to mosquitoes, to desert flowers…each with a routine of its own, a rhythm. Sprout, shoot, flower, entice, reproduce, bring up young, follow instincts….a nice code. Wonder what nature would have thought up for man if he were to obediently follow her code too? A creature among others, living in harmony with his surroundings?...
A little tough on the imagination, given that man tirelessly aims to add variety to spice up life with inventions.
Games between spouses can be part of routine. A friend married for 30 years says she and her husband play carom every evening exactly at 7. Another old couple played cards just before bedtime. Or the walking couple…or a daily telephonic talk with a child or a daily visit to an old parent…a good morning , good night sms…same words perhaps, same contents and yet, as a friend put it, there is comfort in it. Perhaps we all have deep within us the insecurity of an autistic child for whom the daily rhythm is all important to find a foothold in life.
Rhythm…
Routine as Rhythm can turn into Routine as Ritual- or rituals as routine. All of them have in common a lilting accent. If routine designs the day for some, rituals give shape and meaning to life for others. Like a well-fitting garment on the body. How tight or loose is well-fitting is of course each one’s personal idea. Complacency and habit are the lesser or looser or lazier cousins of routine. Time-tables and schedules are its rogue siblings-meeting schedules disrupted, trains running behind schedules…remember the thrill of a cancelled ‘PT’ period or the sheer bliss of an answered prayer in the form of a maths test period suddenly declared null and void? Discipline and Duty would go hand in glove with Routine. Among the better known Routine devotees would be Adi Shankaracharya. For the spiritually innocent, he equates sincerely done daily duties with worship.
There are those who doze off (noisily) in the midst of their silent meditation; there are those who meditate silently in the midst of their noisy routine. Routine, in fact, is like a multi-layered ice cream or cake. It can have interesting combos like ‘sweeping-listening to music-sketching a new recipe in the mind’ or ‘sewing-reviewing yesterday’s events-deciding what is important in life’ or ‘bathing-creating a new tune-measuring one’s efficiency’. An astronaut, on a prolonged space mission, taking walks in space need not feel spaced out-to have a down to earth feel, he/she has only to devise a healthful routine. Back on earth, there is nothing like a brisk morning walk, on familiar terrain, to excite the grey cells and discover solutions to elusive problems of the previous night.
Getting children to tow the Routine line may need a deft maneuver or two. I used to celebrate a weekly ‘rules break day’ with my children until they accepted raw carrots and eye exercices as part of life under me.
Routine the adjective can sound deceptively boring. A routine medical exam can expose clogged arteries, a routine security drill can unearth a potential blastful bomb while an ignored routine spring cleaning could favor termites and terrorists alike.‘why was the routine fire safety drill ignored’ is post-inferno fireworks.
Another trail of thought would be that even the smallest task, however ordinary, should be done for its own sake, with perfection, and not as a decoy for hidden agenda. Breathe with awareness, clean with dedication and chant with devotion. The dusty connection to the nooks and corners of the house are as valuable as the visceral connection to one’s innards while breathing or the spiritual link to the higher realm of existence while chanting. …
What exactly provides the strength in a well routined life? Perhaps the ability to draw comfort from the certainty of a well defined way of life and from there to explore the new? Going back in thoughts to my father, he continues to be as intrepid a thinker at 95 as he was way back, and I suspect Routine has empowered him with heightened self-confidence and a sense of stability, walker notwithstanding. Like being anchored yet sailing. Perhaps he just mulls over the Union Budget or ponders over the wonders of genetic engineering while walking. ‘I can’t afford weakened eyesight’ he may be telling himself, ‘whom can I call for a solution?’ and successfully finding solutions has been his life long mission.
Even as I glance at the clock with trepidation-it is walking time in three minutes-I decide to elaborate that trail of thought during the 5 th round of my walk….after the routine conversation with my liver and lungs.
My father is 95 years old.
The only change that has occurred is that from brisk walks outdoors, he walks within the house, in tiny cautious steps, with the help of a walker. His intellect has retained its stride though. It is not as if he always led a staid, rigid limited life. As a busy government official he traveled frequently. He bathed in trains at the same time, walked in whichever city he was…Routine and discipline, he would say, go hand in hand, and together they have sustained him, physically, mentally and emotionally through failing eyesight and hearing.
I remember my grandmother’s routine: it was as if each moment had a purity and personality of its own, the before-bath part of the day textured differently from the after-bath part. Lunch had sanctity, and she relaxed after that. Evening likewise. I can almost smell the fragrance of the incense stick lit with the lamp at the same time, the serenity that enveloped the house with her chants…. dramatically narrated bedtime epics cozily summed up the day’s routine-the grandmother’s and the little child’s.
Little child…wonder what a child’s routine today would be like today. A packed day, with packed snacks, packed lunch and series of classes, competitions…like packets of fast food, the day parceled in packages. And I guess the present day grandmother, in case she does catch an occasional glimpse of her grandchild’s life, would be herself caught in the web …
Doing the same thing at the same time can be termed robotic. Lack of imagination, creativity or just plain old laziness find solace in routine. Nature probably devised the biological clock so that the planet wouldn’t go haywire with purposelessness. Variety in species with varying routines created eco-balance. From polar bears to seeds, to mosquitoes, to desert flowers…each with a routine of its own, a rhythm. Sprout, shoot, flower, entice, reproduce, bring up young, follow instincts….a nice code. Wonder what nature would have thought up for man if he were to obediently follow her code too? A creature among others, living in harmony with his surroundings?...
A little tough on the imagination, given that man tirelessly aims to add variety to spice up life with inventions.
Games between spouses can be part of routine. A friend married for 30 years says she and her husband play carom every evening exactly at 7. Another old couple played cards just before bedtime. Or the walking couple…or a daily telephonic talk with a child or a daily visit to an old parent…a good morning , good night sms…same words perhaps, same contents and yet, as a friend put it, there is comfort in it. Perhaps we all have deep within us the insecurity of an autistic child for whom the daily rhythm is all important to find a foothold in life.
Rhythm…
Routine as Rhythm can turn into Routine as Ritual- or rituals as routine. All of them have in common a lilting accent. If routine designs the day for some, rituals give shape and meaning to life for others. Like a well-fitting garment on the body. How tight or loose is well-fitting is of course each one’s personal idea. Complacency and habit are the lesser or looser or lazier cousins of routine. Time-tables and schedules are its rogue siblings-meeting schedules disrupted, trains running behind schedules…remember the thrill of a cancelled ‘PT’ period or the sheer bliss of an answered prayer in the form of a maths test period suddenly declared null and void? Discipline and Duty would go hand in glove with Routine. Among the better known Routine devotees would be Adi Shankaracharya. For the spiritually innocent, he equates sincerely done daily duties with worship.
There are those who doze off (noisily) in the midst of their silent meditation; there are those who meditate silently in the midst of their noisy routine. Routine, in fact, is like a multi-layered ice cream or cake. It can have interesting combos like ‘sweeping-listening to music-sketching a new recipe in the mind’ or ‘sewing-reviewing yesterday’s events-deciding what is important in life’ or ‘bathing-creating a new tune-measuring one’s efficiency’. An astronaut, on a prolonged space mission, taking walks in space need not feel spaced out-to have a down to earth feel, he/she has only to devise a healthful routine. Back on earth, there is nothing like a brisk morning walk, on familiar terrain, to excite the grey cells and discover solutions to elusive problems of the previous night.
Getting children to tow the Routine line may need a deft maneuver or two. I used to celebrate a weekly ‘rules break day’ with my children until they accepted raw carrots and eye exercices as part of life under me.
Routine the adjective can sound deceptively boring. A routine medical exam can expose clogged arteries, a routine security drill can unearth a potential blastful bomb while an ignored routine spring cleaning could favor termites and terrorists alike.‘why was the routine fire safety drill ignored’ is post-inferno fireworks.
Another trail of thought would be that even the smallest task, however ordinary, should be done for its own sake, with perfection, and not as a decoy for hidden agenda. Breathe with awareness, clean with dedication and chant with devotion. The dusty connection to the nooks and corners of the house are as valuable as the visceral connection to one’s innards while breathing or the spiritual link to the higher realm of existence while chanting. …
What exactly provides the strength in a well routined life? Perhaps the ability to draw comfort from the certainty of a well defined way of life and from there to explore the new? Going back in thoughts to my father, he continues to be as intrepid a thinker at 95 as he was way back, and I suspect Routine has empowered him with heightened self-confidence and a sense of stability, walker notwithstanding. Like being anchored yet sailing. Perhaps he just mulls over the Union Budget or ponders over the wonders of genetic engineering while walking. ‘I can’t afford weakened eyesight’ he may be telling himself, ‘whom can I call for a solution?’ and successfully finding solutions has been his life long mission.
Even as I glance at the clock with trepidation-it is walking time in three minutes-I decide to elaborate that trail of thought during the 5 th round of my walk….after the routine conversation with my liver and lungs.
posted by meera @ 11:39 PM
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