This was profound, elegant, and deeply resonant. You named a kind of loneliness that many people live inside without having language for it—the emptiness that can grow inside a life that still “works.” The distinction between quiet that nourishes and flatness that drains was especially powerful. So was “endurance renamed.” That line stayed with me. What I admired most is that this didn’t push dramatic reinvention; it honored gentle, conscious movement instead. Thoughtful writing that doesn’t just describe a feeling, but helps people recognize themselves inside it. Beautifully done. 🤍
This was very much the territory I hoped to name: the kind of loneliness that can live inside a life that still looks functional from the outside. Sometimes what is hardest is not the feeling itself, but not having language for it.
I’m especially glad the distinction between nourishing quiet and draining flatness came through.
And yes — often the most meaningful changes begin gently, not dramatically.
This is a really interesting way to look at it. I do agree with the idea that routine can turn into something that disconnects you from your own life if you're not paying attention. At the same time, I think there's another side to it as well. For some of us, it's not always repetition that creates that feeling, it's constantly pushing forward without really stopping to process anything along the way. I've had moments where I wasn't stuck, but I was just... moving nonstop. And that can create a different kind of disconnect. I think the balance is somewhere in the middle. Being aware of when routine is no longer serving you, but also recognizing when you might just need to slow down and actually feel the progress that you've made.
Yes — and that is very much within the scope of what the piece is trying to hold.
It is not concerned only with repetition in the narrow sense, but with the ways presence can quietly thin within a life that continues to function — whether through sameness, over-occupation, or a pace that leaves little inwardly digested.
That is also why the essay places such emphasis on mindfulness not only as discernment about change, but as a way of re-entering experience more consciously, so that what is being lived is actually being met.
Mindfulness such as, I hope there are days when you coffee taste like magic, your playlist makes you dance, strangers make you smile and the night sky touches you soul!
I travel a lot for work, and lately this year I've been feeling the same way but from the other side. I have no routine. My days change wildly from week to week, and it's very hard to ground myself in any kind of consistency. It's interesting (and a little heartbreaking) to read about what this same feeling can look like, but from the other side.
I like the piece. It hits its own routine at a point. It remains very abstract throughout. I can hear your voice in there with a few grounding examples but they flitter away too quickly.
I'm someone who follows a strict routine. I'm not kidding. Everyday is a routine and what makes each day new is the experience or feeling which makes my day happy. This resonated deeply. The mundane, full feeling the routine gives us is genuinely horrible. I'm glad you wrote this piece
Great article. It's like repetition and routine get too familiar and we don't leave room for the unexpected. The not knowing, I think, is where the excitement in life remains. The totally unexpected. Moments that surprise you, stop you, make you think. When we do things differently each day we can expect more of this. Awesome writing!
Beautifully written with attention to every detail. I really enjoyed reading this!👌
This was profound, elegant, and deeply resonant. You named a kind of loneliness that many people live inside without having language for it—the emptiness that can grow inside a life that still “works.” The distinction between quiet that nourishes and flatness that drains was especially powerful. So was “endurance renamed.” That line stayed with me. What I admired most is that this didn’t push dramatic reinvention; it honored gentle, conscious movement instead. Thoughtful writing that doesn’t just describe a feeling, but helps people recognize themselves inside it. Beautifully done. 🤍
Thank you — I’m deeply glad it resonated.
This was very much the territory I hoped to name: the kind of loneliness that can live inside a life that still looks functional from the outside. Sometimes what is hardest is not the feeling itself, but not having language for it.
I’m especially glad the distinction between nourishing quiet and draining flatness came through.
And yes — often the most meaningful changes begin gently, not dramatically.
Thank you for reading so closely.
Good read, I have felt this, it’s numbing. I try to practice purposeful variety to say feeling alive!
This is a really interesting way to look at it. I do agree with the idea that routine can turn into something that disconnects you from your own life if you're not paying attention. At the same time, I think there's another side to it as well. For some of us, it's not always repetition that creates that feeling, it's constantly pushing forward without really stopping to process anything along the way. I've had moments where I wasn't stuck, but I was just... moving nonstop. And that can create a different kind of disconnect. I think the balance is somewhere in the middle. Being aware of when routine is no longer serving you, but also recognizing when you might just need to slow down and actually feel the progress that you've made.
Yes — and that is very much within the scope of what the piece is trying to hold.
It is not concerned only with repetition in the narrow sense, but with the ways presence can quietly thin within a life that continues to function — whether through sameness, over-occupation, or a pace that leaves little inwardly digested.
That is also why the essay places such emphasis on mindfulness not only as discernment about change, but as a way of re-entering experience more consciously, so that what is being lived is actually being met.
https://substack.com/@ahartdegenbooks/note/c-248338979?r=86whbe&utm_source=notes-share-action&utm_medium=web
Thanks I will check it out soon
Mindfulness such as, I hope there are days when you coffee taste like magic, your playlist makes you dance, strangers make you smile and the night sky touches you soul!
I hope you fall in love with being alive again!
I travel a lot for work, and lately this year I've been feeling the same way but from the other side. I have no routine. My days change wildly from week to week, and it's very hard to ground myself in any kind of consistency. It's interesting (and a little heartbreaking) to read about what this same feeling can look like, but from the other side.
I like the piece. It hits its own routine at a point. It remains very abstract throughout. I can hear your voice in there with a few grounding examples but they flitter away too quickly.
Very well written and interesting!
Lovely read!
That was so interesting to read 🤍
Glad you liked it!
I'm someone who follows a strict routine. I'm not kidding. Everyday is a routine and what makes each day new is the experience or feeling which makes my day happy. This resonated deeply. The mundane, full feeling the routine gives us is genuinely horrible. I'm glad you wrote this piece
Thanks for the depth of your reading and your appreciation. Glad it resonated!
Great article. It's like repetition and routine get too familiar and we don't leave room for the unexpected. The not knowing, I think, is where the excitement in life remains. The totally unexpected. Moments that surprise you, stop you, make you think. When we do things differently each day we can expect more of this. Awesome writing!
Thanks for your appreciation! Crucial is to bring the focus to the present!
Love!
https://substack.com/@mikilundh/note/p-194927947?r=ad6no&utm_medium=ios&utm_source=notes-share-action ☺️🩷🤝
Hi! I cannot open the link, maybe could you check it?
☺️🩷🤝
Federico, this is a beautiful piece. The line that stopped me: "A life can remain organized while the self inside it quietly recedes."
That's the quietest kind of loneliness, not absence, but slow withdrawal. Routine without renewal.
Thank you for this.