Mere life?
Mere life…
Mere? What is this “mere life” thing? Walt Whitman framed a response beautifully: “The trick…is to make much of mere daylight and the skies.”
Daylight and the skies are “mere?” Well, yes, when not acknowledged. Sadly, that would be me. “Oh, yeah. Daylight. Need to raise the shades.” That’s my “mere” daily experience of the sun bursting over the horizon, returning light to our lives? And the skies? “Hmmm, the sky is blue today. When’s my first appointment?” “Mere”-ly a pleasant decoration hanging above me rather than a source of unending mystery and awe?
My usual perception of daylight and the skies appears to be “so what.” Betting I’m not alone in this. Where the heck do I go from here?
I don’t know. Currently, I’m lying on my couch, looking out the window at the trees and their spreading greenery, almost completely swallowing a view of the skies. I’m transfixed. Totally transfixed. And then that pesky adjective, “mere,” jumps to mind again. If a view like this only qualifies as “mere,” what else has become diminished in my eyes? Or, more appropriately, in the course of my daily life, what else has been reduced to “mere?” Breathing? Having hands?
And, let’s be honest, I’ve purposely distorted Whitman’s quote, “The trick…is to make much of mere daylight and the skies.” He’s actually reflecting on what imbues life with “life.” In his case, the appearance of mere daylight and the skies are more than enough to fill him up. But, me…..
…well, for me, not so much. Ok, yes, and it hurts to admit this, sigh, the magnetic draw of chocolate-covered ginger, sitting on my kitchen counter, seems to dwarf both daylight and the sky in warranting my attention. And, ironically, I have to drive somewhere to buy the chocolate-covered ginger before it’s even available to truly capture my reverent attention! (Last I heard, sinking into the aliveness of daylight and the skies could be had for the price of simply opening one’s eyes, should you choose to do so.)
In the midst of my above snarkiness, an inner door opened. I can choose to let the word “mere” serve as a reminder to wake up. Wake up? Like this. My eyes focus on the “mere” couch on which I lay. Waking up to its long-service, supporting me through the years, in so, so many ways. Strange as it may seem, a “mere” couch helped me become fully alive to memories of past and present. All without benefit of chocolate-covered ginger. Not bad, not bad at all.
Who could have imagined the word “mere” as a potent reminder of presence. The world constantly surprises me (and I like that.)
I learned to celebrate the sky when I worked in a theater - no windows! I would come out at the end of the day and just stand and take it in. Before then I did just take the sky for granted. I discovered there is a great deal of energy and joy in the sky, if you open yourself to it.
Well done. Oh, to be human. Especially in the modern era when we are constantly bombarded with mere news, mere opinions, mere climate change, mere overpopulation. As if aging isn't tough enough and always has been.
I heard something last night and the gentleman said expressing and exploring one's "snarky judgment" can open up new parts of the self that bring the being more into view. That's what you do, and do so well! Thank you.