We practise almost everything.
Thinking. Writing. Cooking. Speaking. Walking. Even resting.
It’s tempting to believe some things come naturally, but the truth is, most of life is shaped by repetition. Eating, for instance. At first glance, it doesn’t seem like something you practise. But how we eat—what we crave, how we portion, how we respond to hunger, most of the time isn’t automatic. We may refine our practices throughout the different stages of life, sometimes, decade by decade.
One indulgent lunch for me, some fried chicken with coleslaw soaked in dressing (something I don’t prepare for myself), can shift my entire appetite. My taste buds adjusted and the next day, I crave stronger flavours. My mind and body want some of what I didn’t “practice” yesterday.
It’s the same with movement. On some mornings, I convince myself I need more rest and skip my usual stretch or delay the alarm. But later, after coffee, I realise I don’t feel more refreshed, and the start of the day just feels slightly out of sync. What I skipped wasn’t just exercise or structure, but the small ritual of showing up for myself.
We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit.
— Aristotle
Practice doesn’t have to be big moves. You can start with a five-minute stretch on the bed. A meal that’s slightly more nourishing than the last. A breath before responding. The point isn’t perfection, but continuity.
Because if I keep saying, “Tomorrow I’ll begin again,” I risk pushing change to a horizon that keeps moving away from my intent. I’ll always find a reason for skipping something today, and then wonder why the next day feels lethargic.
While there’s no ideal mood to begin, there’s no flawless schedule either. Only the ongoing act of practising what we really need.
To practise is to remind myself that discipline isn’t punishment, it’s almost a devotion. Consistently, quietly, we get to shape how we live.
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