We learned about the Romantic Period in my Humanities class yesterday, and I left filled with the words of John Keats and the art of Caspar David Friedrich. The Romantic perspective on life and emotion and creativity is (needless to say) quite inspiring, especially with its emphasis on the uncontrollable, terrifying, beautiful nature of the natural world, and when I got home, I took a little bit more time to really pay attention to what was going on around me.
The birds.
The flower leaning delicately against the edge of a vase on the kitchen counter.
We don't notice these things as much as we should, and, while this is partly due to a lack of time (bills, work, etc.), it's also partly because we've become accustomed to the fast pace of life. I wrote about this a bit in my last post, and it's on my mind again because I was at work (substitute teaching for the win) the other day and noticed that, as soon as one activity came to an end, my students immediately needed to know what was coming next. Next. Next. Next. They were so anxious for the future that they completely missed the present, and what's sad is that one day they'll be grown up and look back on their lives and realize just how quickly time slipped away. But we've become dangerously comfortable with speed and stimulation. It bothers me how often my heart rate quickens and my jaw clenches when I'm waiting longer than I thought I'd be for something or when I'm uncertain about the future. I'm a worrier. I angst about whether or not I'll be able to control what's going to happen in my life, and little schedule changes can throw me for a loop. But I wasn't always like this. I was once much more flexible, patient, and calm, and I'm realizing that the constant bombardment of information and stimuli that we're all exposed to nowadays has a scary effect on our brains. Our attention spans are getting shorter, and today it's harder for us to focus on and appreciate things than it was forty years ago.
The average attention span for the notoriously ill-focused goldfish is nine seconds, but according to a new study from Microsoft Corp., people now generally lose concentration after eight seconds, highlighting the affects of an increasingly digitalized lifestyle on the brain. (Kevin McSpadden, TIME Magazine)
I keep thinking of Amelie Poulain in the movie Amelie. (You know, the beautiful Jean-Pierre Jeunet film about the quirky girl with the cute haircut and infectious optimism?) Amelie is genuinely fascinated by the simple things in life. She lives each day with love and enthusiasm and adorable uniqueness, and she's never scrolling mindlessly on the Internet searching for things to compare herself to. If she were, she wouldn't be Amelie, and the world would be such a sad place without Amelie in it!
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From http://quoteideas.com/amelie-movie-quotes/ |
Lately, I've been reading some books on yoga and mindfulness, and a theme I've come across is that mindfulness practitioners maintain their childlike fascination. Note that "childlike" doesn't mean immature or unworldly; it simply implies that one is open and receptive and interested. Instead of beginning each day with baited breath and angst, we could "inhale lots of love in" (as Adriene Mishler would say) and "Carpe Diem" (thank you, Mr. Keating of
Dead Poets Society). By living with compassion for ourselves and what's around us, we could help make the world a better place. I'm not trying to get all cliched here, but wouldn't it be nice if we all felt love for one another? Change starts from within.
One of my best tips on going "within" (from someone who's still trying to get there, LOL) is to think about the things that make your spirit happy and that make you feel connected to the world around you on a deep level. My brother, for instance, is genuinely enthusiastic about insects. He's even got a blog about it (fortheloveofinsects.blogspot.com), and his love for the environment motivates him to do his best in school and be the best version of himself because he believes that, if he tries hard enough, he can help the planet heal. So far, he's managed to convince many of his classmates not to step on stink bugs, and that's a big accomplishment for insect-lovers everywhere ;).
So what is it that inspires you to be the best version of yourself? Know that it's totally okay not to have a single defined passion! You don't have to be a die-hard super-fan of any single thing . . . just look out at the world with compassion and interest like Amelie does. Cracking creme brulee can be an amazing experience in and of itself, regardless of whether or not you consider yourself a culinary aficionado.
<3 Frances