Groove

I have a record player and some vinyl albums that I enjoy. Record players are an old and fascinating technology. A small needle sets into a groove cut into the face of a vinyl disk. It plays music as it moves through the tiny imperfections on the surface.

My stereo is set up in my office. To listen to a record, I power on the speakers, the turntable, and the receiver. I choose an album and slip it out of the cardboard sleeve. Once placed on the record player, I push a button to spin the vinyl. I lift the arm and put the needle near the beginning groove of the album. The entire process is part of the experience, including fighting the paper sleeve back into the album cover.

Similarly, I have little rituals or cues to initiate my routines. They help me quickly find my groove. I can get deeply engaged with a project when I find that groove—find my rhythm. It is music.

On the turntable, when the last song plays, the spiral groove pattern leads into a final circle—the run out groove. The album continues to spin, and the needle tries to make sense of the imperfections. Shhhkt…tkrk… shhhkt…tkrk. After the music, the album shifts from the groove to a rut. While I can hear it, I sometimes lack the desire to get up and flip the album.

I try to find my groove day to day. But that groove sometimes turns into a rut. I spin and go nowhere. I get trapped between the walls of that rut. A deep disdain grows for each wall, holding me captive. On one side, I deeply dislike how things are going. On the other, I dislike the feeling of change. Not that I wouldn’t like a change, but more that I don’t want to invest the effort necessary to change. So, I might convince myself that the change is scary. That I am better off here in my rut. Shhhkt…tkrk… shhhkt…tkrk.

A groove is great. A rut is not.

Have I noticed which one I am in? Do I hear music or shhhkt...tkrk? Can I let my dislike for the current situation be enough motivation to initiate change?

Be curious, be kind, be whole, do good things.