Is this really it? (On embracing the mundane)

On some days it feels amazing, being human. Seeing a person run around a field for hours on end, exerting unreal displays of mental and physical energy could leave you in a state of marvel. The way people master their skills, hone their crafts, I find that to be mind-blowing. It reminds me of the seeming endlessness of human capabilities. It feels like as a human being, anything and everything is possible. I get fascinated hearing the combination of sounds that come out of the minds of people when they make music (the blending together of instruments, voices, sound patterns), and with architecture (the planning of cities, buildings- different shapes they could come in, sizes, standing for decades, the channels within the buildings). I am also fascinated with language- words in the way they exist, poetry, the cleverness of lyrics, stories, speeches. And honestly, no one can deny the beauty and utility of technology. It simply cannot be overstated. Once in a while, all of these things make me feel a tad bit grateful, that I exist. That I came to see such wonders as they exist in my lifetime.

Most days though, there isn't really much to life. For most people, it's filled with (painful) cycles we repeat till our bodies can do it no more, or till something forces our bodies to stop. It's a journey we cannot pause, a journey in which even when we are overwhelmed, the only exit leaves us feeling unsure, that many choose to remain, to endure, to tolerate. It's a lot of searching for meaning, and for answers we would never be satisfied with. It's a whole lot of anger towards injustices that were before you, and would remain long after you're gone. It's learning to supress that anger through desensitization, so that your own journey might be bearable.

I find living to be pointless. What are we doing here, wasting all this time for? "So much struggle for a life that can be taken without our consent". It all does not feel worth it. We came whether we would have liked to or not, and we will leave whether we are ready or not. We do not choose the bodies we come in, or the faces that people see when they look at us. And whilst we live, we are mostly insignificant pawns in the games of really powerful people. If you are born in the time of peace, you do not get a say if war would and should break out. And if you are born in the time of war, all most people can really do is pray to gods that do and do not exist to bring peace upon them. Everyone in their own little world is fighting hard to be and feel significant, but if you zoom out a little, and then some more, we are less than grains of sand here on earth, not to talk of the entire galaxy.

This is really it. Perhaps 80 years, on average, and even your great grand kids might not remember or care who you are. They might talk about their "ancestors", but there is no individuality to that. You would join a collection of bones littered everywhere around the world, and the sun will still rise and set, the trains will still run, seasons will still pass.

This is really it. So I savour little moments that make me feel. I appreciate family. They are my world. My everything. The very people who make me happy that I came. And friends. They sometimes become family you pick along the way on this treacherous journey. They make the journey feel more bearable. I enjoy good stories and good speeches. I let them soak in no matter how many times they are told. I cherish memories. Because although time spent here is ephemeral, we get to capture and replay moments, through memories and stories. We get to be reminded that we do exist, and although it counts for nothing, it counts for something. I like festivities. The little ceremonies we organise year in year out, to add some excitement to life. The fireworks or knockouts on new year's day, costumes for Halloween, the lights for Christmas. I adore love. The different forms in which it exists and the different places you can go to find them. The lengths people go because of love. The things we'd do for love.

Without the grandiose visibilities and grand aspirations, I am learning to stop and smell the roses around me. To let myself laugh as long as I need to when something is funny, and to cry because a movie had me in my feelings. To appreciate the little glimpses of other people's lives that I get to see. The beginning of another's journey perhaps. I was on the tram the other day and a little girl was trying her best to say the word "crane" when she saw one. I believe she had just learned that word. Her parents were very pleased with her and tried to teach her new words. Or the people we would meet once, whom we might never see again. Big and little people. Like the flatmates I lived with at different times, or like the little boy at the tram stop whom I waved at and who smiled excitedly, hid and later came back out to throw snow balls at me- they barely counted as snow balls, because his hands were very tiny and could not pick much up.

This is really it, so when my father retells the story of how I refused anyone to touch "my birthday dress" after my first birthday, I form the pictures in my head, and let that memory live as if I had developed the mental capabilities to remember, at the time it took place. It really is it, so when I notice my parents are visibly starting to age, I stop myself from panicking and I hold even more dearly the moments we spend. I replay memories of the times I would spend with my mother, laying in bed or going grocery shopping, or the times when I would hug my father, and was only barely at his knees. There's not much to it, so whenever I picture my brother, I see him as this happy go lucky person who truly takes his journey one step at a time, and does not let life overwhelm him. My brother who remembers to laugh even in the worst of circumstances, and who always finds the strength to carry on. 

Life is tough enough, most of us know it. All around us, is evidence of selfishness that is innately human. It can get devastating thinking about these things, so I focus on finding beauty in the mundane. How tight a hug is, or how the smell of a person's apartment can linger on the clothes they wear. The first sign of warmth after the colder months, petrichor, and the different colours of fruits. The striving for distinction through tattoos, piercings or fashion choices; the peculiarities(or lack of it) of different hairstyles. I take in the different ways in which people on different continents build their houses and plan out their streets. I appreciate the way languages evolve, the vernacular, the accents, the combination of accents sometimes. I enjoy a good conversation with my loctician. I admire a good smile, and I acknowledge that the shape of people's teeth differ. Little things excite me, so I buy little pieces of jewellery for my hair, and I wear earrings that could fit on my wrist.

I call my friends and stay on the phone for ages having pointless conversations, and I try to show the people that I love and care for, that I do. I try to tell them too. That is important. I take pleasure in the happiness of my friends, and revel in their good experiences. I make sure to frequently text my parents, and when I do speak to my daddy on the phone, I wait for him to say "bye Nne" before he hangs up. If he does not add "nne", I worry that something is amiss. I hold my mother on a pedestal, for the unquestionable amount of strength she has shown in her own journey, and from both my parents, I learn resilience and determination. I understand that although opinions and beliefs may differ, love abounds, to the fullest. Where I can, I put a smile on someone's face, and lighten their load. I get up each day and all I can do is try because what more is there to do, really?

Is this really it? Yes. For the most part, that's okay. I'm content with that. Sometimes, happy even.