Consistency.

I constantly think about this…. consistency as a notion must be central to the duality of the human condition.

 

In our youth, mostly, we run from consistency as if it is terrorizing us.

 

As we age, we find consistency and routine to be a warm blanket.

 

But the complexity comes with trying to balance it…. often times I am out of sorts, out of my element, without roots or routine for far too long a period, and I just beg to the skies to have one or two days in a row that are consistent and stable, where I can find my routine, etc.

 

Then, as the grass is always greener, sometimes I find myself repulsed by my routines, consistency, grumpy immutability after a few weeks time.    It’s definitely a balance, but I am always dissatisfied with utter consistency, only to beg for it when my routine is pummeled by the randomness of life.  And stuff.

 

Admittedly, I am at that point of finding subtle points of consistency a sublime refuge to revel in. I think there are those that simply call this happiness.

 

—–

 

Consistency is the last refuge of the unimaginative
– Oscar Wilde

 

.                       O      (Weird heroes and mold-breaking
(\__/)       0           champions exist as living proof to
(=’.’=) . o                those who need it that the
(“)_(“)                      tyranny of the rat race is not yet
.                                 final. — HST)