July 13, 2009

• The Little Things In Life: an essay

  "The Little Things"
  Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
  December 27, 1975 1:00 a.m

  
  It's as if the little things in life
  Were finely detailed porcelain statues-

  So beautiful and delicate
  When viewed alone

  But when the little things in life
  Are viewed together

  It's as if all these procelain statues
  Are thrown in one big pile

  And they become a broken mass
  Of jagged glass.

  
  I've always been one to attempt to create my own schedules and routines, and the perfect "routine" for me is one that resembles the lack of any schedule or routine at all. As far back as childhood, with school dictating where I needed to go each hour, through college times, which added a job, and clocking in and out of work at a particular time not initiated by myself, I have abhorred being locked into specific routines, but have always understood the need for them. As I grow older, I have adapted my own schedules and routines to those of the status quo, and can pretty much state that at this point in my life, I'm pretty satisfied with how things have worked out for me.

  Of course, one's existence is not entirely within one's own command, and as we grow up and older, we find that our bodies are sometimes, when most out of control, the most controlling things in our existence. If we visit our doctors when ill or out of sorts, we sometimes find that they will prescribe pills for these ills, the taking of which is added to our personal routine. The trick is to attempt to ignore the routines while following them so much to the letter that we seem to be taking command of our lives even as more and more of that command slips away.

  My  poem above called "The Little Things in Life" is a seeming celebration of small moments and mementoes. The poem concludes that when thrown together, the pile of  "little things" resembles just so much junk. I wrote the poem at the age of 22, and this is quite a cynical viewpoint for one so young. As I've aged, my view of these "little things" has changed. I will acknowledge that when viewed all at once, like we do most of the experiences in our existence, the plethora of small moments and shared wonders might look as if it is a pile of indecipherable trash. The trick is to ignore the overall viewpoint at times and to concentrate on what makes each moment special.

  Recently, my extended hospital stay and the long recuperation period, which seems never ending now after over a month, taught me to savor these small moments even more. A bowl of butter pecan ice cream. Sitting on the patio enjoying a sunset. A tall glass of milk accompanying some cheese and crackers. Watching a favorite old movie on my mammoth bigscreen televsion. Some of these "moments", when overdone (like eating too much of the ice cream) might spell doom for health and welfare on the one hand. But looking past the "big picture" into the lives of these moments is something to be enjoyed and remembered. Breaking the routine, or inserting a favored moment into said routine in order to break the monotony, is something to be cherished.

  In an earlier blog entry, I wrote that I can now understand how homeless people can 'live" on so little, after I have "lived" through a long recuperation period. When one is pretty much stranded in his own home, attempting to find as much entertainment and enlightenment as possible with very little to draw upon, one finds that the search for and establishment of "the little things' takes up a good deal of time, and when one is confronted with a favored time, or a fine meal, this overtakes the negativity that otherwise might be ingrained in a routine, and breaks the day wide open into something that can be not only enjoyed, but relished as a perfect time, one to be remembered as one of the bright spots in one's life.

  We are lucky if we are able to live a full and rewarding life. If something is cut from that life, like the ability to walk unaided for a few months, then when that ability returns, our wherewithal and stamina, which was hard pressed and uneasy, will also return, like a favorite holiday, and life again will seem full and wholesome. In the meantime, we should attempt to find the small moments and "little things' which might make the pains of living without something a bit more possible to bear. We don't want to overdo anything, like eating too much ice cream, which might be "bad" for either our health or welfare. We need to make our time count, and we need to be able to enjoy what life and time has to offer to us.

  My "routines" during the past month or so have been rearranged in order to help me to maintian my health and call upon my stamina and wherewithal in the best possible ways. Slowly but surely, I'm getting back into a "routine" which includes driving to work, and spending time at the job. In the weeks before I came back to work, I found other ways in which to manage my time. Because of the antibiotics I'm still ingesting intraveneously, I am a bit more tired than I am usually, and I've had to rearrange my "routine" in order to include naptimes. I've been used to taking naps as I age, so this is another set of curcumstances which is just adapting something which is familiar to me.

  Some times "the little things" in life, like the "finely detailed porcelain statues" in my poem, are rich and rewarding, and I find the time to enjoy this richness and to feel rewarded. Other times, these "little things" do seem to be thrown together, and become just one mass of broken glass. At times like this, I want to be able to look through the "broken mass of jagged glass" to see the "finely detailed statues". This morning, as I left the park on my way to the 'routine' of the workplace, I spied a magnificent sunrise, of the type which immediately screams to me to go get a camera and take a photo. I don't need to take the photo, however. I only need to enjoy the moment. A "picture is worth a thousand words" and the pictures which develop in our minds are worth millions of emotions.

  I admit that I've attempted to "heal" myself perhaps a bit too quickly. I admit that sometimes I've been lonely and embittered by my long stay, first at the hospital, and then at home. However, as with everything we experience in life, I am looking for the silver lining behind every cloud, and I've found friendship in the kindness of strangers. We are the architects of our own existence, whether or not we acknowledge this fact. The sunrise is not only pretty, and routine, but it's the dictate that another day has begun, and with it a "mass" of little things will appear which might or might not shower us with epiphanies and enlightenment.

  It's all in how we look at this wonder called life. Are we inundated by the "pile" or are we enamored of the "fine details" within?

  • 10:38 am
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