“Still he concentrated on his stillness, on becoming inanimate, unthinking matter, on staying alive under that wide expanse of stars-not because their beauty awed him, but to live because he was so horrified of dying violently. And then again, perhaps their beauty did matter after all; perhaps it was enough to live without guarantees, without certainty. Perhaps he wanted to survive this night, not just because he was terrified, but because he would like to share breakfast with his wife again, and to feel the morning dew on his feet as he walked to the club, and to be able to stare across the sixth hole of those volcanoes, so utterly alien from his Missouri home, so astounding-silent giants that sneaked up on him daily, startling him again and again, as if he had no memory from the previous day”
-Sylvia M. Shaw, The Coffin
Those lines are long, and those words remind me of something. I guess it is way far easier for us to get tired or bored of the sameness of the things that surround us each day. For instance–my white study table, the floor I walked on everyday, the door in my room, the places, events, and people that I see each day. The sameness is even more visible and noticeable to me when I think of the world that likes movement and change, of newness and excitement. Even I sometimes dislike hitting replay. Whilst changes and newness are truly fantastic and excellent, those that are familiar, timeless, classic, those that remain stubbornly the same no matter what, the unsurprisingly daily, the uncomplicated are just earnestly lovely as well.
That singular paragraph reminded me that there is also beauty in the mundanity of daily life. And sometimes we don’t get to notice that the things that we repeat again and again-the shared meals with our family, the plant you water daily, the daily cleaning, the tree that sways with the daily wind, the familiar voice you hear each day, the laughter on shallow reasons, the daily preparation of spoons and forks for every meal, the turning on and off of lights, the opening and closing of windows, the daily conversations, the trivial arguments and all the other excessively, overly familiar, common, unsurprising, unexciting, daily things, people, and events are really precious and beautiful as they are. Yes, just as they are. To feel them in our senses and see them again and again each day like the circling of a circle warms the heart. And probably in seasons of letting go, they are the hardest to forget.
But nothing really stays the same, and the true magic is to feel them while they are present, while they are happening. Some call it the ‘now moments’, the enjoyment in the presence of the now. It’s precious. To be present and just feel the things around you.
Sometimes we forget to sit, be still and just appreciate because of the too many things to think about in this world. I’d like to take time and pause a little and be fond of the eveydayness of a day. To just revel in what is around us as if we have no memory of them. As if they are always new, and as if you are also new.
Always, the impermanence of life never fails to remind me to express appreciation and love to the things, people, and daily events around me that are surely temporary. This story tells me to live as if I have no past, no baggage to carry, like a clean new slate. In that way I would be able to see things always with new eyes even if nothing really has changed. It is like appreciating what is. I feel thankful of my life. And because I know that I am physically temporary, then it is my joy to celebrate this life while I still can. Love yours too.