Remember to See

How do they do it? Everybody else. The others. How on earth do they manage it? Do they have more time? More money? Do they get up earlier? Is it because they do squats? It’s because they do squats isn’t it? Squats are the worst.

Here’s a thought. Maybe being other people isn’t as fun as it looks. Have a look at your own life. No not THAT look. Not the look you give it when you’re judging it next to a gleaming instagram picture of the green grass on the other side. 

When you look, remember to see. 

After all, you’re the only one inside your own head. Put something nice into it. Music. Talking. Cake. Take it for a walk through the universe. Sing a bit, maybe. Take a little look around. This is a Public Service Announcement.    

Marvel at the fact that, unlike the unicorn, there really is such a thing as a lady bird - a shell-armoured, tiny-winged, polka-dot-suited half-sphere that flies in a confused flurry and lands like a squadron leader designed by Yayoi Kusama.

 Contemplate the social cohesion required for you to live in a society that has fresh water and free healthcare and choc tops and Netflix.

Look at how fast the clouds move!

Look at how a construction site or even a roadwork site works. The careful, big, clunky synergistic ballet of it all. The “oi!” out a truck window still a vital form of communication. The artistry of concreting and bricklaying. The workers in their blunstones thundering in and out of the tiny caravan thing. The nexus between tension and boredom as everyone watches a huge concrete slab being lifted over some cars. The walkie-talkies. The colour of the earth piled high amidst the human industry.

Look at afternoon shadows, long and languid and lazy, stretching out like a cat by the fire.

Think of your favourite driver. The person whose driving makes you feel safe, or panicked but amused, or loved, or whose commentary on other drivers is worth the trip. There is a pleasure in watching someone be good at something, being in command of something that requires skill and instinct. The arm over the passenger seat, one-move reverse park. The talking while changing lanes. The smooth negotiation of the round-about. The outlandish confidence in finding a parking spot right outside a venue. Nominate your favourite driver and be proud.

Listen. Hear the tide of other people’s conversation drifting in and out. The way people negotiate and renegotiate all sorts of little things by talking to people who are not them. The verbal ways we help each other. The conversational tics. The accents. The performance of it. The pauses.

Notice the difference between close up things and far away things. A lawn from the distance, like a child’s painting, smooth and even like the ocean. Close up? Thin, pointed spears jutting up out of messy brown roots. A football crowd up close: people who could be your uncle eating pies and bellowing at the umpire. From a distance? A hushed roar, united and strong.

Pour tea into a glass and watch the cloud bubble like an atom bomb when you put the milk in.

Clear your calendar for an hour. Google  “soldier returns home to dog”. 

Contemplate the architecture of a spider web.

If you would like to feel 100% yourself, dive into some water. The solitary shock of it unearths the id from somewhere deeper down than the daily grind allows us to access.

Think of the feeling of recovering from a laugh.

Buy a notebook. See what happens.

Try and recall the smell of really posh shops. Lavender mixed with rose mixed with expensive perfume. It’s a smell that tells you to be quiet, but also to smile.

Think of morning mist rising off the earth.

Eat a scone.

Smell some crayons.

Remember that you’re a member of the species that thought of art galleries and theatre and discos and skateboards and wigs and beanbags and those German biscuits that are kind of gingery and covered in icing. And also pies. A house for delicious food that’s made of pastry. I mean well done everybody.

Other people may have great things and do great things and they may be gloriously happy or effortlessly relaxed or both, and that’s lovely, for those people, if it’s true. But your life is yours and it’s full of little things you love. Maybe write them down. In a notebook. This has been a Public Service Announcement.

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