Today consisted of the glorified mundane. Nothing eventful happened. I did nothing noteworthy, important, or meaningful beyond looking up at the night sky and taking a deep, refreshing breath of painfully sharp air. Oh, and it was a marvelous hair day.
It’s days like this, when my paper ought to be empty, that I feel most like speaking. I can never write of transcendence, but I can sing odes to my ordinary days. More focus ought to be spent in recognizing the beauty of making a bed, the feel of dish soap between your hands, and the peace of handling a broken car as magnificently as Hector handled losing Troy. We do not live from divine moment to divine moment, as Hollywood and popular novelists would have us believe. Read Jane Austen if you want to know the spectacular events of a simple life. You will begin to hear symphonies in nooks of your life you weren’t even aware of. Searching for happiness is laughable, for searching implies movement and mobility. You can find everything you need with half of what you have. Yes, you. Not the general you that’s used so often in literature. I mean that you, dear reader, have at bare bones minimum at least twice of what you need to be exquisitely content and supremely sublime. I don’t mean to be Pollyanna, but frankly, I lack the patience to hear one more of the world’s top 1% out of 6 billion complain that they need time, money, romance, clothes, muscles, or whatever the blazes they have gotten it into their heads that they need. And please, I’m not playing the role of a Tartuffe here. I fully admit that when it comes to traveling, I feel an insatiable need. And sadly, although nobody wants to admit this, I would like some more money in my pocket.
But I can’t help but feel that there is nothing so sad as empty desires that people pursue when they are in reality running away from the joy they are looking for.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, was my thought process put on virtual paper for the day. May your hearts be merry and bright, though it be February, and may you comprehend the obscure references made throughout this potentially incoherent babble.