Life is really such a strange concept.
In one way, it makes so much sense. After all, we do get to live it every day, and I don’t know about you, but it’s not like I walk around in a constant state of questioning the meaning of meaning. (I mean, in truth, sometimes I do, but that only happens when I am in a funk.)
Let me be clear: I believe it is an absolute privilege we get to live every day.
If life was a book – or, to go back to the earlier analogy, a movie – we are the narrators, and each day is a page, a movie scene from the larger scope of it all.
But in another sense, when you take a step back and really think about it, life is preposterous.
The movie Life Itself depicts its dual nature of being so simple yet so inconceivably complex, and proposes the following idea:
What if, perhaps, life is the real narrator, leading us through a series of coincidences, intertwining our individual narratives with those we cannot see?
If life really is our narrator, do we let it tell us “What is meant to be is meant to be”?
or
Do we throw caution to the wind and define this as our own meant to be, deliberately choosing and living in the experiences that allow us to fully embody the entirety of our dream’s yearnings?
We all live and live and live, and somehow, the pages turn. The days bleed into weeks, into years, into decades – into one another.
How often is it that you actually live? How often do you take a step back and really breathe in the day? Step outside and beam at the morning sun? Actually stop and smell the flowers (or the coffee)?
Do one thing different so that this Tuesday is different from last Tuesday is different from the next Tuesday is different from Wednesday?
If you don’t take a chance on something new, something different, are you really narrating your own life, or is life narrating your life?
Are you a passive respondent or an active participant in the day?
If you think about it, life is an incredible series of tiny moments strung together into something meaningful:
A quick peek outside, a sliver of a brilliant, fiery sunrise, the sky laced with unimaginable colors.
A morning cup of coffee, steaming and brewed to perfection, infusing the air with a wonderful toasty and chocolatey warmth.
A patch of wildflowers, bright, bold, and unyielding against nature’s toughest elements.
A butterfly rescue mission, a gentle movement to hopefully restore the gracious beauty of such a fragile creature.
A smile, an interaction, a compliment, exchanged with a coworker, a friend, a barista, a store employee.
A listening ear, a hug, a space to cry, the perfect response for when you don’t quite know what you need.
A walk, a podcast, a new idea, the freedom to think and simply just be with your thoughts.
A phone call, a text, an email, simple words of encouragement, wonder, hope, and love come to you when needed most.
A bite of pizza with a friend, family, a significant other, the first drop of food after a long, grueling day.
A thought, a reflection, a thanks to the above that things are going to be okay, that things are looking up.
Tiny moments are like tiny string lights: they are strung all about, here and everywhere. At a distant glance, they are magical and full of possibility, a thing of beauty, a unified something you long to be a part of. Up close, though, they are unique, distinct.
Only you have the power to make meaning and discernment of the tiny moments that thread your life. Others can help, but at the end of the day, you have to believe in your ability to play an active role in your everyday life. You have to believe in your ability to create meaning and to imbue personality and stake in the significance you find in these tiny moments.
Scott Barry Kaufman is a brilliant cognitive scientist and psychologist who conducts research within the realms of intelligence, creativity, and self-actualization. I read and listened to a number of his materials during my creativity course. Perhaps one of the most enlightening pieces of research I read was his exploration of some of the common traits possessed by creative individuals. Though I certainly could not have guessed what I thought was the number one trait, I was unsurprised to find it was “openness to experience.”1 (This is to say, individuals who are more apt to jump right into new, unfamiliar, or unique experiences with wonder and curiosity are more likely to be highly creative people.)
Why is that?
Well, research aside, I guess I would point you back toward the idea of wanderlustfulness. For me, I found freedom, as well as the allowance to dream, when I slowly let go of my more rigid tendencies. I found spontaneity offered me the chance to leap and grasp at the edge of my dreams and desires. And when I had a firm hold, I could pull harder, explore more.
“But what if something bad happens?”
But what if it doesn’t?
What if “bad” is just a fabricated word, and each moment is simply that – a moment in time that altered your course of action?
For me, each new experience has cultivated an undeniable sense of wonder and zest to see more, as if I were attempting to answer the question: how in the world is it even possible to explore the entire world? I really like to think, but this is such an unfathomable concept to comprehend I’ve given up. There are hidden nooks and crannies all over – literally in your backyard. When you are in a plane, soaring 20,000-some-odd feet above all the individuals seemingly unaware of your sky-high existence, you begin to further grasp the wider extent of these hidden nooks and crannies. And so then, when you start Internet searching for the hidden wonders of the world – well that’s silly, if they are hidden, why would you be able to uncover them with a simple Google search? – you finally realize, you just have to go and see for yourself the limitless possibilities that exist beyond the scope of your everyday world.
But.
I think allowing yourself to be open to new experiences is the exact answer to overcoming the overwhelming idea that the world is too vast for us to explore in a lifetime. Being open to new experiences means narrating your life – with agency, with autonomy – not as a single thing, but rather, as a collection of tiny moments that when you look back and reflect, make you entirely confident you indeed have chosen to be not just the narrator, but also the author of your own life.
You have the privilege to dictate the narrative to life itself.
So, what are you waiting for?
What’s stopping you from doing the things you always wanted to do?
Notes:
- Published as a book excerpt on Scientific American. For more, check out Wired to Create: Unraveling the Mysteries of the Creative Mind by Scott Barry Kaufman and Carolyn Gregoire.
ON HAPPINESS 