Finding peace in the mundane
All of life presents itself in a mirror.
I’ve met a lot of people who can’t comprehend the merits of the concept of being still. Focusing on being in one place, in one moment. It’s as though it stretches them; so thin that they can’t bear it.
Instead, slowing down can be beautiful. When sitting in a train, the world moves by only as fast as we move. With a vibrant view outside, why not savor it when the train slows?
Lines and waiting
I think this is one of those things that people hate the most. There’s many waits that do suck.
Airport lines
Bathroom lines
DMV waits
(among others)
A lot of the time, we have things to occupy ourselves with. Our phones, a friend, a magazine. But, in all those instances, one thing is always true:
The world slows down, and we find ourselves swimming through the ocean, with no land in sight.
But, another thing is also always true: eventually, the time will pass.
Where do I find peace in this?
It’s important to consider why you’re waiting. And, probably to do so in advance, so you can first fit the action of waiting into a rational framework.
The beauty of rational frameworks is they’re time-limited deterministic finite automatons (put simply, a flow chart of actions, goals, and associated outcomes) that lead to one of two things:
Another rational framework, building on the last
Satisfaction in success, and an opportunity to grow further.
They allow us, in varying levels of scope, to exert control upon reality by concentrating ourselves onto clear goals.
So, before you assess whether a need to stand in line exists, first assess if the outcome of standing in line is something you need to succeed (“success” can be something as simple as getting that big $5 portion of roast pork/duck over rice).
If done correctly, the animosity towards waiting quickly disappears. The line might move slow, and you are idle, but you are resolute. There’s the peace.
Love, silence, and slowness
Often we put a lot of pressure on ourselves to maximize the experiential (or sometimes, material) output of the time we have with our loved one(s).
It can be a lot to handle, but should remind us of the notion of balance. A totally idle shared existence (where instead of sharing meaningful experience with the person we love most, we burn time), is not one that is rewarding (at least not retrospectively). Too much of anything becomes boring or overwhelming.
Few people remember to take time to simply sit across or beside their partners and look them in the eyes. Or, go for a walk in a park. Feel their hand in yours.
People-watching
There’s a lot we can find in others before we see it in ourselves.
When I go for walks to Fort Greene Park (the nearest park to me, and also one of my favorites in NYC), I find myself enthralled by the whimsy I see. Children playing tag, people drawing in notebooks on the grass, or jamming out to music with their eyes closed.
In those moments, I think to myself and feel inspired to engage in similar whimsy; to know that I still wield my childlike innocence.
There’s some bliss in freeing our attention from within and letting it move and jump, from person to person. As someone walks by, they disappear (at least from our peripheral vision). But someone new will certainly appear. A simple loop, like breathing in, then exhaling, tax—free.
Life as a mirror
When we first meet someone, we almost always seek comfort in qualities we share with them. Like with a mirror, we project ourselves onto people, often only to see our own reflection with a different facade. It’s important to say that there’s nothing wrong with self-love, and seeing the qualities we love about ourselves in others, but it’s nonetheless a difficult exercise to truly take in another without relating to their being, as it compares to ours (and instead seeing a pure representation of their self).
But, I think that’s true of not just people. It’s true of waiting, of whimsy, of love in silence and in slowness. Each time, a part of us looks for qualities of ourselves. With love, we want to be loved how we love (maybe with the same passion, and/or with the same depth). With seeing whimsy, we yearn to balance the scale of how life pulls on us with a feeling of being carefree.
In seeing qualities of ourselves in others, sometimes we don’t know the nature of these qualities, at least not at first. We may rediscover ourselves this way - qualities of an older self, perhaps lost to time, or perhaps forced out for one reason or another. In this process, we miss the purity of the moments, focusing too far inward to notice life go by.
Ultimately, I think being at peace with the mundane is to embrace this mirror; to find the mundane as an exercise in rationality and taking in the world.