The Beauty in Monotony

The longer I’m home, the more I appreciate monotony.

Before I continue, let me provide a bit of clarification.

In my head, I distinguish monotony from boredom (although there’s beauty in that, too). Rightly or wrongly, I’m not a huge fan of monotony’s duller cousin. Boredom is hours dragging on with little to break them up; it’s needing to tolerate rather than simply experience.

Monotony, on the other hand, is days and weeks passing with nothing of real consequence—negative or positive—happening to disrupt the flow of time. Monotony is predictability peppered with non-world-shattering interruptions here and there. Monotony is structure, but it’s also flexibility. Monotony is being happy with how things are while still working toward something else.

For the past while, I’ve been satisfied with existing in a default state of monotony. I don’t mean to suggest that there haven’t been challenges or excitement. There have (including some major health wins—yay!). The default, however, has been a steadiness into which I’ve comfortably settled, and tackling the blips from a place of calm has made it easier to handle the ups and downs that are an unavoidable part of being alive. I’ve found myself equipped to ride the ripples in a way I haven’t for years, probably decades.

I never thought I’d be so enamoured of such a humdrum concept, but here I am. How boring, I guess.