A Day Like No Other: The Antidote to "Meh"
- Laura A. Weber
- 6 minutes ago
- 7 min read
"To feel abandoned is to deny the intimacy of your surroundings. Surely, even you, at times, have felt the grand array; the swelling presence, and the chorus, crowding out your solo voice." (David Whyte, excerpt from his poem, "Everything is Waiting for You" - full text below)
Pay attention. It leads to gratitude.
Artists, gardeners, innovators, poets, and mystics have something critical in common. They know how to pay attention. Nature is their primary teacher. Every moment is an opportunity to notice what is new, what is shifting, what peeks up or moves slightly. It is an invitation to slow down, stop perhaps, take a deep breath, and indulge the senses. Mindfulness, being present, marks this unrepeatable potent moment, as Eckhart Tolle would say, catalyzing the Power of Now. Being able to pay attention in the present moment anoints each intentional pause with possibility, with infinite potential.
The reason we might feel bored, or stagnant - "One day is much like any other" is the refrain I often hear - is because we're not paying attention. We are boring ourselves to death with self-preoccupation and incessant doom-scrolling, and missing the splendor of the universe that surrounds and enfolds us, the very fabric of life in which we are embedded. Sadly, we are not all gardeners.
Thomas Jefferson (1743-1826), crafter of the Declaration of Independence, Virginian plantation owner who was an outspoken abolitionist but retained slaves throughout his life, was a lesson in antitheses and holding creative tension. (Side note: Which would he celebrate today? Juneteenth or July 4th? Or both?) He led a full life. Mediocrity, boredom, "Meh?" Not even close. In his 30s he was accomplished as a planter, lawyer, architect, essayist, violinist, inventor, and ultimately became the 3rd President of the United States. This Renaissance polymath preferred gardening to any other vocation:
"I have often thought that if heaven had given me choice of my position and calling, it should have been on a rich spot of earth, well watered, and near a good market for the productions of the garden. No occupation is so delightful to me as the culture of the earth, and no culture comparable to that of the garden. Such a variety of subjects, some one always coming to perfection, the failure of one thing repaired by the success of another, and instead of one harvest a continued one through the year." (Thomas Jefferson, Correspondence, ed. Henry Augustine Washington, 1854)
We too can live life fully, as Henry David Thoreau, who went to the woods to "live deep and suck out all the marrow of life." Each morning, upon waking, we can bathe in the prodigal fragrances, textures, sounds, tastes, and sights of creation with wonder because of the sheer intricacy, the nuance, the symphony of delight our senses apprehend in Nature. Once we tune in to everything Nature offers, we no longer feel alone, or bored, or stuck. We are awakening to the coo-coo-coo of the mourning dove, or the freshest fragrance of mint in our morning tea leaves, the tang and texture of the citrusy lime we've just sliced to preserve that delectable avocado half, or the unanticipated sight of the purple coneflower spread that was just a bud before yesterday's storm. In our bodies, in our experience, our day explodes into wonder, or as Dacher Keltner would say, we experience Awe.
When we alight in wonder, it leads us to gratitude, which is truly the antidote to "Meh." Gratitude is the hermeneutical key to happiness. I cannot imagine a day without practicing gratitude, the art of paying attention so fully that it soaks in, soothes the soul with the warmth of hot tea, and overflows into thanks. When Nature's embrace overwhelms us with infinite variety and beauty, taking its form in exceptional creature-kin, arbor elders, flora, fauna, water, light, and even human-merely-being, grateful tears erupt. Tears: our bodily capacity to express what we feel. Gratitude becomes our destination and our dwelling. The poetess Mary Oliver knew this well, ardent lover of Nature that she was. "I live in the house near the corner, which I have named Gratitude." (Mary Oliver, The Place I Want to Get Back To)
Connect. It is the art of imagination, creativity, and learning.
"Connect, George, connect," the resonant refrain of the 19th c. Impressionist artist, Georges Seurat, when facing artist's block. (from Stephen Sondheim & James Lapine's Tony award-winning musical, "Sunday in the Park with George") The story features a famous painting, in which the artist-cum-inventor creates a magnificent canvas of colored dots in a technique known as "pointillism," in which the colors fuse optically, not mixed on the palette. True creative genius! Seurat was ridiculed and his work largely ignored until after his death. Today, anyone who studies his art can appreciate the painstaking work of connecting dots in such a fashion that only the human eye can fuse the subtle shades. He was a scientist/inventor and an artist, connecting disciplines and passions. "The art of making art is putting it together."
I have always been a lover of learning, of making connections. When my "kids" were younger, we met in the crucible of the academy, the university where I spent much of my life. Earth was our classroom. My beloved students, staff, and colleagues, the thousand wonders of my world, made each day an unbelievably wild ride, filled with abundance and gratitude. We learned from connecting dots. Whenever we would take up a topic, philosophical, theological, epistemological, environmental, political, ethical, or spiritual, one insight, one body of research, one footnote would connect with another. It was these insights all coalescing through curiosity and creativity that ignited our collective imagination with inspiration to connect with the wider "We." Like Seurat's dots on the canvas, we were in perfect harmony, shimmering, filled with light when connected.
Connecting is what Nature does to perfection. Beneath Earth's surface, as forest ecologist Suzanne Simard (Finding the Mother Tree) has astounded us, there are vast mycelial networks of fungi that connect tree roots, sending nutrients, hydration, and protection through myriad points of contact, the "wood-wide-Web" of Life in the biosphere. Without these networks of communication, symbiotic exchange, and protection for sustenance and resiliency, our arbor-elders would perish, leaving Earth a desolate wasteland, uninhabitable for Life. WITH the trees' amazing capacity for connection, the biosphere flourishes, providing the very breath and the lungs for the planet's respiration.
When we humans connect at a deep level, beneath the surface, we feel the joy of intimacy. Neuroscience confirms that with human connection we are creating so many waves of dopamine, oxytocin and serotonin that our bodies vibrate with good energy, healthy energy, energy that lights up a whole sinkhole of "Meh." Connection means learning, yes, and it doesn't mean boring blah-blah-blah. Just the opposite. Connection means energy exchange, synergy, and creativity. Good vibes. Imagination is all about making connections, seeing patterns, and rearranging the dots slightly - maybe just for fun!
Change one small thing. Life will feel brand new.
Those who wake up each day with health-inspired routines - 10-minute workouts, protein smoothies, or whatever the latest hack is for fitness - have as a goal improved health, fitness, or well-being. The discipline of an exercise and diet regimen has helped many a centenarian live a long and happy life. What many have discovered is that even the best health and fitness routine can plateau or become stagnant without slight adjustments, incremental change.
The spiritual life is similar. Creatures of habit, we love our daily rituals that keep us grounded or make us feel safe and comfortable. Routines make us feel that circumstances, or our sense of self or reality are "normal." Budding out of our comfortable shells becomes even more of a challenge because life moves along calmly, without interruption, predictably, and controllably when we conform to a pattern. Unfortunately, if we remain on auto-pilot, this is often the death-knell for spontaneity, openness, vulnerability, and growth, leading to stagnation, to feeling inert. It might feel like a "Meh" moment.
If we want to keep it fresh, we're invited to celebrate something new, to look forward to something special each day. Not total self-indulgence, not a spa day, necessarily. A "WAKE UP!" Day. Something we anticipate with half-craving, half-delirious, mysterious wonder. A kid's Birthday comes to mind. When we're kids, we might have no idea what is coming that day, or how it's going to play out, other than some standard cultural rituals or family traditions, "Happy Birthday" singing and cake, maybe some new toy we wanted. But we do know this - it's going to be a special day surrounded by people who love us, whose presence is key. We expect surprises. It's A Day Like No Other. Our Birthday!
Today can be a Day Like No Other! Every day is the Sun's Birthday! (ee cummings, "I Thank You God for Most This Amazing") We can banish "Meh" if we imitate Nature. Delight is on the doorstep of our imagination each day if we follow Julian of Norwich's admonishment to "Be a Gardener," and "seek the deepness." We can embrace, as Sharon Blackie says, the "Enchanted Life" by paying attention. We can notice and reach out to those in proximity, take in everything around us, engage our full sensorium, bathe in Nature, incite our gratitude, connect with human and more-than-human kin, and be fully present in this moment, right now.
What in the world are we waiting for?
by David Whyte
After Derek Mahon
Your great mistake is to act the drama
as if you were alone. As if life
were a progressive and cunning crime
with no witness to the tiny hidden transgressions.
To feel abandoned is to deny the intimacy of your surroundings.
Surely, even you, at times, have felt the grand array;
the swelling presence, and the chorus, crowding
out your solo voice.
You must note the way the soap dish enables you,
or the window latch grants you freedom.
Alertness is the hidden discipline of familiarity.
The stairs are your mentor of things
to come, the doors have always been there
to frighten you and invite you,
and the tiny speaker in the phone
is your dream-ladder to divinity.
Put down the weight of your aloneness
and ease into the conversation.
The kettle is singing
even as it pours you a drink, the cooking pots
have left their arrogant aloofness and
seen the good in you at last.
All the birds and creatures of the world are unutterably
themselves.
Everything is waiting for you.