Our faith comes in moments; our vice is habitual.

Conviction tends to arrive in flashes: a clear hour when you know what matters and who you want to be. The things you are not proud of need no such inspiration. They run on routine, and routine works every day of the week, which is why a few bright moments rarely outweigh them.

Rather than waiting for the next clear hour, use the one you last had. Turn something you believed that morning into a standing arrangement: a time, a place, a small repeated act that does not depend on how you feel. Let the good thing become as automatic as the thing you would rather drop.