3 minute read
A Magnified Look at Beauty in the Seemingly-Mundane
A Magnified Look at the Beauty in the Seemingly-Mundane
Written by John Murray ’24
It's 6 in the morning and I have just been woken up by my father for school. I can imagine anyone’s first urge in this common early morning scenario is to fall back to sleep, but it’s the second thought that comes to my mind and intrigues me: “It's cold!” That utter first blast of morning coldness is indiscriminate, abrasive, and suffering.
Just like the I’m-not-ready-to-get-out-from-under-my-warm-comforter-yet sleeper, in the morning the cold air beyond that warm comforter is also sluggish; it possesses a lingering property that is unimaginably effective at eating away at a sleeper’s motivation to rise and shine. Nonetheless, it is completely unavoidable. That is the miserable side of the state of the mornings, yet as the hours slip by that lingering cold seems to take on a new identity.
In the afternoon hours, the low degrees seem to cause the opposite experience. Where the morning cold dulls the senses, the afternoon cold sharpens them, and where the morning cold saps motivation, the afternoon cold reinvigorates. In the morning, going outside is something to dread, but by the time the afternoon graces us with its presence, venturing outdoors is something to relish and bask in.
In the later hours into the night, the glacial repository held by the evening air rears its ugly head once again to bash our now-sensitive, sleepy selves which have been worn down by the trials of the day. This suffering, reminiscent of the morning bog, is strangely bipolar in its nature. For yes the experience is agonizing just like the morning, but that dynamic shifts once you enter the confines of your home. As you lay in bed for the second time that day, ready to enter your time of rest, you realize how different the other side of the coin really is. Taking reprieve in your ever-so-comfortable-and-comforting down comforter, the unceasing arctic assault slips away into a distant memory. This feeling that so thoroughly seems to soothe all the senses simultaneously is relief — like an iced beverage on a summer day, or that first bite of your favorite food after a day of fasting. Of course the cold itself doesn't care what time of day it is, or what you are feeling, so where is the origin of these vast discrepancies?
The answer is simple. The origin — in everything — is perspective. It is a universal experience that there is no deeper suffering than a fall from the peak of joy and that there is no greater pleasure than the relief of monumental pain or burden. To gain an awareness of perspective, our mindset, and how we choose to look at things, is to gain a great appreciation for everything we have — from the bed and blanket, hearing dad (attempt to) wake us in the morning, and the ability to feel the morning air, to being able to rejoice at night, once again, in our coveted cozy bed.
