Miraculous to Mundane

Do you remember when your life began? Do you even remember the first time you were able to appreciate your own conscious reality? Were you able to make note of the first day you realized your brain could store memories?

I would imagine your answers to these questions are all swift and resounding no’s. These developments in our perception happen so gradually that we barely notice this fantastic, sentient life become just that. We hardly realize as this strange exit from oblivion turns from miraculous to mundane. How could an unexplainable, mystical, beautiful, real experience become boring? Why is it in our nature to forget the miracle of conscious reality?

I remember a few years ago, I woke up for another standard work-from-home day. I lazily walked from my bedroom to the kitchen to get coffee brewing. As I entered the kitchen, something popped into my brain: a friend of mine who had died the previous year. My perception shifted for a moment. I thought about how much he’d appreciate the simple act of walking into the kitchen to make coffee, the opportunity to live a day on Earth again, free to do whatever was needed to make him happy, whole, and content. I wondered how heavy the sheer realness of his surroundings would feel. I imagine he would blink a hundred times, overwhelmed by the fact he was alive. He might simply stare around the room, touching items in his reach, turn on the sink, watch the bushes outside flutter in the morning breeze, marvel at the moth in the window. Maybe he’d eat something, to feel that wonderful, primal emotion of nourishment.

It occurred to me that we do all of this without the slightest bit of appreciation. Hell, not only do we fail to cherish it, we hardly even notice it.

In his beloved poem, “Song of Myself,” Walt Whitman writes “I believe a leaf of grass is no less than the journey-work of the stars.” This is relevant because we generally think of this universe as distant stars, ancient comets, and the great cosmic expanse. Vast, unknown, dark, fascinating, and mysterious. Yet, we forget that in that same universe can be found our most familiar surroundings. Yes, the universe contains beautiful, gargantuan nebula, exploding suns that outshine entire galaxies, and ultra-massive blackholes that could swallow those suns. But the universe also contains your music collection, your toilet, and your favorite shirt. We exist in that same phenomenal cosmic theater, yet we trivialize what is familiar. You might see your life as this ordinary, run-of-the-mill situation, but you’re as much a marvel as any galaxy, comet, or supernova. You’ve just forgotten that. You’ve downplayed yourself, because it’s familiar.

What exactly am I saying? The miracle of reality is all around you. And the miracle of reality is you.

How’s that for a Monday morning?