I work and feel best when I’m on a consistent routine — eating roughly the same things every day, going through the same morning and evening flows and daily schedule structures, and doing the same workouts (see: Congruence, MEQ, Just Call Me, and other posts on this site).

I suspect this feels good because the routine effectively pre-makes my decisions. I avoid making decisions I’ll later regret, and I don’t add more to the already-pretty-tall stack of choices I have to make throughout the day. Plus my body adjusts to the flow and knows what to expect.

But as with most good things, there is such a thing as “too much” routine for me. I used to just plow through, sticking to the routine that had been working for me far beyond its useful life, and eventually blowing out and feeling horrible (ask me about how incredible the first 2.5 years of strict Keto felt and how miserable the following 6 months of strict Keto were).

Over the last couple years, I have made a more intentional adjustment towards seasonality — and it feels great. A couple times a year, usually as the weather starts to get warmer or cooler, I take stock of my routines and adjust them.

My sense is that our bodies have some sort of intuition for seasonal behavior change, and we might as well lean into that. Most ancient medical and wellness traditions have some concept of this — Ayurveda, TCM, Japanese “shun,” and others. Even ideas like “spring cleaning” and “New Years resolutions” echo the idea. The cyclical nature of the calendar is inherent in our lives and biology.

I long thought I was in search of the “perfect routine,” figuring out what would make me feel best. I knew I’d never find it and would always be tweaking, but I was searching for it nonetheless. And I think that’s true, at some level, but the wrong bit was the implicit permanence of that sought routine.

I was looking for the “perfect permanent routine,” the thing that would “make me feel best, forever.” But really, I’ve found it so much more pleasant to be seeking the perfect routine for this season — this season of the year and this season of life.

The seasons give us an anchor on which we can hang and mark our lives. Humans have long lived by them. In agricultural societies, we had no choice but to. Now, with many of us working from unchanging computers in unchanging offices, we may have lost that connection.

I often anchor these adjustments in the cliches you might imagine would go with a seasonal change — as summer arrives, I might trade weightlifting in a gym for kettlebells outside; warm breakfasts for cold fruits; late nights for early mornings.

I recommend trying to consciously bring seasonality back in your routines. As it gets warmer or cooler, shift your diet, how you’re moving your body, and even your schedule. I bet it’ll feel good.

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