Treat yourself to the poetry of habit

I quote verbatim the novel I'm reading that talks about a couple experiencing a "crisis":

"Yet we all had the magical period, we rejoiced and suffered with butterflies in the stomach .... Then came marriage, cohabitation, habits. It is difficult to be poetic when you're confronted with habits ... Because there's nothing worse than a flat everyday life."

Quite the opposite, I find poetry in the habits, there is in them that profound beauty that only time can give. Not understanding it, it's like not being able to taste the complexity and nuances of an aged whiskey and remain convinced that a Gin Tonic is the best in life. In music terms it means understanding the difference between Nils Frahm and Selena Gomez (well maybe Selena is more of a carton wine than a Gin Tonic).

The problem is that to understand it, it is necessary to know how to slow down, give quality to time, know how to love the same phrase that is always spoken at the same time and is always magnificent. To understand this, we must know how to free ourselves from the biological machine that lives in a mechanical stimulus/response way. 

What I am trying to say is that butterflies in the stomach are trivial, precisely because they are a mechanical response to a stimulus, while understanding the poetry of habit and everyday life requires maturity (not always one matures with age). When there is this maturity, this consciousness, you do not need someone to explain you to such depth and the whole existence takes on a sense of beauty and mystery in which you can lose yourself only because you have "found yourself".

Hence, for Christmas, I wish you to understand, I wish you to become aware of the beauty of everyday life and habit.

m.m.