The Mantra, by Alicia Erdoes

Last week in class, we talked about the paradox of consciousness- of how humans have to put effort into existing in the “now”. It wasn’t until then that I realized how true that really is. I guess it makes sense. It is as if that is the price we are charged for enjoying a higher level of reason than the rest of the animal kingdom. It made me wonder which was more favorable.

The sun was brilliant and for the first time in months, I wasn’t chilly on the walk home. Fifteen minutes passed, and I couldn’t even recall what I had seen. Once I hit South College, I realized I had been thinking critically about the next few years of my life. Not about the weather, not my footsteps, not my surroundings- the upcoming years. I had been calculating how long I would have to work before saving up enough money to travel the world. What was I doing? There’s no guarantee I’ll even be alive tomorrow. So I kept walking. My house came into view on the right just before the bridge, and it vanished again behind me. I walked under the bridge, past the train station, and followed the running path.

I walked through Newark, across campus, all the while trying to keep my mind present. My phone stayed in my pocket, and I tried to form conscious sentences about every sensory detail of the journey. I am walking to North campus. The sun feels great on my skin. Something smells fantastic- probably Newark Deli & Bagel. That girl’s dress is beautiful.

When I approached the bridge leading to Laird campus, I instead took the steep path on the right side that winds down under the structure. Instinctively I headed to the left and finessed myself through the patches of brush and bushes that line a small creek. I knew I was visible from the bridge, and probably looked a little crazy, but that was just fine.

The ground beneath me feels a little warm, probably because it’s been stealing sunlight between branches. I kicked my flip flips off and put my toes in the moist earth at the edge of the water. That just may be the best feeling in the world. I closed my eyes, leaned back on my hands, and tilted my face towards the sky, finally giving the sun a proper greeting. A few minutes passed, and two squirrels chasing each other across the creek brought me out of my sun trance. I realized I had successfully kept my mind there the entire time, without a single thought other than what was immediately around me. I focused in on the squirrels, and figured that must be how they feel all the time. I bet they never worry about what they’re going to do after graduation.

I watched the water, flowing slowly but surely towards White Clay. Where had it come from before that? Maybe it was runoff from someone up the road who decided to take advantage of the warm weather and wash their car today. And before that, it was in a hose, before that maybe a water tower or a pipe. Here, now, it is in a creek, but in a matter of hours it will be in White Clay, and eventually it will reach the ocean. Just another one of life’s chains of events, to get everyone where they need to go.

I realize this is the first time in months that I am wholly happy. None of my responsibilities have dissipated, and the problems I had yesterday still exist, but none of them can touch me in the “now.” There is a quote by Kurt Vonnegut that has been my mantra for the last couple of years, and it resonates right now more than ever. “I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, ‘If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.’”

I’ve started reading Listening to Whales and I’m flying through it, partly because it’s so interesting, but also because Alexandra Morton’s life seems like a dream. She says that no matter what she is doing, when she sees a whale she runs out to her boat and follows it. To me, that is the epitome of living in the “now.” And better yet, that is her job. She essentially makes a living by observing- by just being present. Admittedly, she is usually in the presence of much more interesting things than I am, but if she can do it, why can’t I?

My new mantra is, “I urge you to please notice.”

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