For years, I thought variety was the hallmark of a rich life.

Different meals.
Different wines.
Different routines and experiences.

It seemed like the more options available to us, the more alive we must be.

Now I’m not so sure. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve started to understand the appeal of repetition.

I avoid breakfast. I'm drawn to a limited amount of meals at night and I drink the same wine. My days follow a familiar rhythm. From the outside, it might appear unimaginative.

But there is a practical reason for it. Every decision we make consumes a small amount of mental energy.

What should I wear? What should I eat? Which bottle should I open? What should I do first?

Each question seems trivial in isolation, but together they create a constant, low-level drain on attention.

By the time you arrive at the studio, answer emails, or sit down to do meaningful work, a surprising amount of your energy has already been spent.

This is where routine becomes useful.

When certain parts of life are predetermined, they no longer demand your attention.

You don’t stand in front of the fridge negotiating with yourself.
You don’t scroll endlessly through wine lists or waste precious energy deciding what doesn't matter.

That energy is preserved for the decisions that do.

What to paint next and whether to keep going when the work becomes uncertain.

Creative work is difficult enough without arriving at it mentally depleted.

There is a romantic idea that creativity thrives on chaos and endless novelty. In my experience, the opposite is often true.

Creativity flourishes when the surrounding conditions are stable enough for your attention to settle.

Routine doesn't make life smaller. It creates space to think more deeply. Space to notice more and to focus on the work that matters most.

The repetition of daily habits may look dull to others, but if it frees your mind to do more meaningful work, it serves a valuable purpose.

Not every part of life needs to be reinvented.

Some things are best decided once and repeated quietly.

So that when it comes time to create, you still have something left to give.