You might have heard or said one of these lines at some point in the past: “I think I’ve found my rhythm,” or “I’ve got a solid groove going,” or “the past few weeks have just been flowing for me.” These expressions imply that a person has gone into a state where his actions, whether work-related, study-related, or personal, seem to be flowing almost effortlessly, like a machine or system that runs on its own.
I’m sure you’ve felt this yourself. Maybe you’re feeling it right now. Or maybe you’re feeling the exact opposite.
The (perceived) problem is, unless you’re a master of the flow state, these periods of seamless momentum are usually experienced in intervals and typically don’t last forever. This begs the following questions: What about the other times when we don’t feel this flow, do those not count? Is every action a means to maintain or acquire this rhythm? Is this the ultimate goal?
I sometimes ask myself the alternative question: When I’m out of this rhythm, am I wasting my time?
Or on bad days when I just can’t seem to find any momentum: Am I doing something wrong? How am I this off today? Why have I lost my flow?
I recently had this conversation with my good friend Zaila about the difficulty of keeping a rhythm consistent from one day to the next. She handles several businesses and projects, so her days can be quite varied. I, along with other people whose schedules are not as fixed and structured, could relate to this. Truly, it’s more difficult to keep a rhythm when you have to plan the majority of your day yourself.
Upon further examination of our days (mostly through rants and the occasional daily win), we’ve concluded that this dance of going from rhythm to non-rhythm, this constant readjustment and feedback is simply what choosing the non-boring option looks like.
Consider the parts of a song. The typical song would start with an intro, not too long, just enough to set the mood and build you up. Then the verse kicks in, which brings you along further. Sometimes, a pre-chorus pops out, you think it’s the chorus but it’s just another build-up. Then you get to the chorus, the anthem, the beat that sticks in your head. This repeats throughout the song. of course. The bridge is always one of my favorite parts. It’s like mini-song within a song. I think of it like a moment of catharsis. Then you usually end with an outro.
Now, think of your days as measured in songs, or parts of songs. Which part are you in right now?
Some days feel like a chorus, others feel like a specific verse on repeat. Some weeks feel like a complete album from start to finish, other weeks feel like one really long intro. Some months feel like the same song playing everyday, others feel like that Spotify playlist you call “random good songs from discover weekly” on shuffle.
It’s messy. Even when planned to the minute, the music is unpredictable. It’s complicated before it gets organized, and then it becomes complicated again. We’re flowing, then we’re off again.
But as inconvenient as all that sounds, imagine the alternative. Imagine the same upbeat pop chorus that you know inside and out, playing all year-round. Imagine how unexciting, uninspired, and boring that year would turn out.
The best songs and albums have a certain pace and flow that only a healthy degree of mess and madness can bring. Too much control and you lose out on some of that imperfection and magic. And our off days and weeks, these are the troughs and crests that give life and character to our own music. This is what the non-boring option looks like.