The tea kettle seemed to take years to boil today, as I impatiently stared at it, desperately wanting to go online, instead. That seemingly inconsequential act got me to thinking:
Why do we get so impatient over the little things in life, always wanting to move onto more "important" events?
The little things in life--such as waiting impatiently for the tea kettle to boil--lead to later events, and link the various aspects of our lives to create meaning for us if we look hard enough. In other words, it is the trajectory of big and small events that comprise the meaning of our life. But then, why do we always tend to remember the most emotionally-ridden moments, rather than the monotonous daily ones? Does one have more girth than the other? Yes, humans (and I argue, all mammals) are wired to remember events that are laden with emotion, as these events help to make us more aware of the world, and help shape who we are as an individual. However, I think that we take for granted the seemingly monotonous moments of our lives, and brush them aside as boring and uneventful.
You may be thinking, goodness, this woman is being too trivial over a simple act; she is making a point where a point cannot be made. We all have to wait for our proverbial kettle (or water) to boil! My point is that humans tend to gravitate towards continual movement and stimulus. Seldom (for the most part), do we take the time to think about our actions, especially the ones we deem inconsequential. We are oftentimes blind to the potential of any given moment to give us inspiration, or even introspection. We wait for larger-scale events to agitate us into action. By looking at our daily actions as daily acts of thought, I pose another way to look at the "monotony" of our lives, and in turn, ourselves.
Happy Sunday afternoon!
2 comments:
I just wanted to say I love this post. I know so many people on Facebook and other social media sites tend to write statuses that appear to express impatience for some seemingly distant event. "I can't wait until Friday," "I can't wait for the wedding." The event comes and goes. I find myself watching the clock in class and at work, thinking, "I can"t wait to go home." We are waiting to die, and we seem to want to rush to the finish line. It reminds me of the play "Our Town." Only after Emily dies does she see how precious something so "mundane" can be.
And, I think all of us artists feel the pain of cracking hands. It is terrible when working with clay, and at this point, in Iowa, I am rarely in the mood to work on art.
Thank you for your thoughtful reply, Chaotic. "We are waiting to die, and we seem to want to rush to the finish line." You expressed what I was attempting to say in such a succinctly-honesy sentence. You got it!
Post a Comment