Returnist Recs: 31

Some Interruptions Are Meant to Stay

Click the play button above if you prefer to listen to me read this piece.

I am, by both nature and preference, a creature of habit. I like a day that unfolds as expected. The same walk, the same coffee, the same loose structure that holds everything together without asking too much of me, especially before the caffeine hits. There’s a relief in a life that runs smoothly, and a peace in decisions having already been made. For the most part, I’ve built exactly that - a framework that allows me to focus more time on the trickier bits.

But lately, it’s been the interruptions that have stayed with me. Not the disruptive kind or the chaotic or derailing. Just small deviations, often unplanned, but expansive in the moment:

• A nearby Buddhist temple I visited once, then again. The second time not out of obligation or curiosity, but because something about the first visit felt worth returning to based on the serenity and perspective the space held. Worth sharing, too, passed along to a friend in the same way it had been graciously shared with me.

• A long morning walk with a neighbor and our dogs around the reservoir that tipped into less of a stroll, more of a workout (that hill at the end… woof). Conversation interrupted by breath, pace set as a group, dedicated time to connecting with each other and with the area around us.

• Even a tweaked back (inconvenient and more than mildly humbling) that overrode my plans entirely. Unrelated to the aforementioned hill, I promise. Every movement requires attention. How I stand, sit, rest, bend to reach for something just out of range. The solution isn’t novel or complicated: ice, heat, ibuprofen, stretching. Things I already know that just require time and a willingness to move differently than I wanted to.

Each of these, planned or not, asked something of me.

There’s an obvious version of growth that suggests big change, a new routine, a new system, a more optimized way of living. But what I’m noticing instead is in each of these instances, the interruption itself isn’t the point - it’s what happens next: whether you ignore it or return to it, deciding consciously that it belongs.

Because even the most well-constructed life isn’t finished and it certainly doesn’t lock into place at a specific point and stay there. It keeps asking to be edited, not all at once, but in nearly unremarkable ways. You don’t age out of being a work in progress. You just get better at building something that works, and, if you’re paying attention, better at noticing when something else works too.

So the rec is this: pay attention to what interrupts you this week.

Not everything is worth keeping, in fact, most things aren’t. But occasionally, something will feel just slightly better than what you had planned, a place, a rhythm, a way of moving through your day. Don’t rush past it. Return to it and see if it holds. If it does, consider letting it stay, not as a disruption but as part of the life you’re still shaping.

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Flavor of the week: Post-Buddhist temple visit dim sum at Happy Harbor, chomped and slurped up faster than I could have taken a picture. Honorable mention: the iced green tea from 99 Ranch Market next door that was the perfect beverage for the drive home.

Habit of the week: Binge watching Summer House to catch up on all the Bravo-drama.

Soundtrack of the week: Leon Bridges’ Coming Home has been making quite a few appearances on my daylist lately, and I’m always happy to hear it.