The small rituals that actually survived a year

A year ago I wrote down eleven things I wanted to do daily. Six survived. The five that did not were not harder. They were vaguer.

Every surviving one is attached to something that was already happening. That is the whole finding. None of them required deciding to do them.

The six

1. Water before coffee. Attached to the kettle, which boils whether I am organised or not.
2. Ten minutes outside before the first screen. Attached to the dog, who does not negotiate.
3. Writing down tomorrow’s first task before closing the laptop. Attached to closing the laptop.
4. One thing put back where it lives, every time I leave a room. Attached to leaving rooms.
5. Phone on the shelf, not the table, during dinner. Attached to sitting down.
6. Something that smells good, on purpose, before starting work. Attached to starting work.

The last one sounds the most frivolous and it is the one I would defend hardest. It is a boundary marker. The day has not started until it happens, which means there is a moment the day starts, which means the day has a shape.

What killed the other five

All five needed a decision. "Read more." "Stretch." "Journal." Each one required me to notice the moment, decide it was the moment, and then act, three steps where one would do.

If a ritual has not survived a month, the fix is almost never more discipline. It is finding the thing that already happens and standing next to it.