There’s a monotonous nature to much of our lives: We get up; we go to work (which often requires a set of reoccurring procedures); we return home to carry out a patterned set of tasks and pastimes; we go to sleep; repeat. Ask someone, “What have you been up to?” and the answer given back is often something along the lines of “Same old, same old.”
Are the regular, patterned parts of our life where our essence is? Or are unique moments what give life meaning?
Dear reader: How important is the repetition in our lives?