living for the small stuff is…liberating. knowing that at least one thing is constant in your life, the sunrise and set. the moon and the stars, that moldy looking birthmark you want to lazer off. the mundane-est aspects in our physical world can distract us from cognitive ambiguities, from the constant grappling with what’s next and what’s to come? will i even make it?
here are some mundane life joys that remind me to be present in entirety
- smelling a whiff of someone’s laundry while you’re on a walk, the most glorious sensory surprise. i try to hunt down which house is doing laundry… unsurprisingly unsuccessful most of the time
- finding chocolate/money/ anything that stimulates your neurological reward pathway that you saved for later and forgot about (maybe not like opioids or amphetamines tho esp if you’re cutting back)
- little kids that say hi/wave to you
- sleeping in your freshly laundered sheets (like im talking RIGHT AWAY LIKE THERMAL ENERGY STILL LINGERING ON YOUR FINE LINENS,ALMOST SCATHING YOU) bonus feeling if you shaved your legs.
- singing in the shower because thats where you ~regrettably~ sound the least worst
- walking out of your house during the colder months and smelling the soap that you used in the shower in the air.. it smells FRESH AF (especially if you use irish spring… trust me.. yeah its peasant soap but dont be a soap elitist)
- cracking a glow stick
- cold side of the pillow
- waking up thirsty in the middle of the night and actually having water at your bedside
- pressing flowers in books, completely forgetting about them and opening it years later with a tumblr-esque aesthetic surprise.
- the post-blowing-out-birthday-candles smell
- home depot… sad bc the smell is literal tree genocide.
- blowing big bubbles
- peaceful graveyard strolls
- the smell of your local bakery on sunday
- hearing church or temple bells ringing in the distance
- the warmth of your favourite crevice on your s/o that you nuzzle yourself into (*giggity*)
- the way the earth feels when you’re barefoot, feeling the blades of grass breathing into the soles of your feet
- the smell of old books… cigars, sourness from tears, maybe even the pheromones from their thumb prints. this is why i love old books even if that sounds gross, i feel like it takes a piece of each reader that has engaged with it.
- other people’s fruit. that always taste better than your fruit. ALWAYS. is this an evolutionary curse?… or just poetic tragedy? we will never know
- animals… dogs… the purest form of unconditional interspecial love i will ever know. i used to fear, kind of hate dogs. the fuck?
- trees… they talk you know? all you have to do is listen
- seeing someone that randomly popped into your thoughts that day
- pouring soda in a glass full with ice and hearing the carbonation and the ice crack
- stargazing and being reminded of otherworldly existence
~im going to add more as i go~
— Haruki Murakami, 1Q84
cognitive chaos 