Finding Peace in the Repetition

The Self Being project has made me think differently about the value of ordinary, repeated tasks. Not the dramatic parts of making art. Not the polished final outcome. The day-in, day-out actions that often feel mediocre while they’re happening: setting things up, adjusting details, documenting work, moving materials around, checking sound levels, thinking through space, walking back and forth, trying again. None of it feels profound in the moment. Sometimes it just feels like labour.

And there’s a strange honesty in that. Creative practice isn’t always a lightning strike. More often, it’s a slow accumulation of small actions that don’t seem important until they start to form something larger. The work becomes less about chasing inspiration and more about learning to stay present with the process. That’s where the project connects to Self Being for me: the self isn’t only found in big declarations or moments of transformation. It’s in the repeated gestures that shape how I live, make, think, and return.

At times, these tasks feel dull. Too simple, too domestic, too ordinary to matter. But after doing them long enough, the repetition changes. It becomes familiar. The body starts to understand the rhythm before the mind has to explain it. There’s a quiet reward in reaching that point, where the task no longer feels like something to fight against. It becomes a place to settle.

That doesn’t mean the work suddenly becomes easy or glamorous. It means I start to recognise value in the act of continuing. The mediocre parts of practice aren’t failures of the project. They’re part of its structure. They slow me down. They make me notice. They give me time to think without forcing the work to perform importance before it’s ready.

In this way, Self Being isn’t just about resisting media saturation or stepping away from constant noise. It’s also about understanding that stillness can exist inside routine. Peace isn’t always found by escaping into something extraordinary. Sometimes it appears through ordinary repetition, after enough time has passed for the task to stop feeling empty and start feeling grounded.

The reward is subtle, but real. It comes from realising I don’t always need the work to be spectacular for it to be meaningful. There’s something valuable in the steady, repeated, imperfect doing of things. The peace isn’t separate from the labour. It’s found inside it.