The Beauty of Everyday Life

When I was younger, I didn't understand how people could just be. How you were expected to grow up, go to school, get a job, and then work for the rest of your life until you die. Is that all there is to it? Why then, do we have over 7 billion people on our planet, simultaneously growing, working, living and dying? Is it the fear of death that caused them all to continue this vicious cycle of growing-working-living-and-dying? There has to be something more, I thought. To keep them all from going insane and doing irreparable damage to themselves or others before they have the chance to grow-live-work-and-die. I began to document my journey along the process of unraveling this strange cycle, writing down every worry and woe, every accomplishment and succeeding, and every new bit of death or life that I was forced to stand witness to.

The older I got, the more I kept questioning the cycle and questioning myself, questioning why I had joined and kept the path of the cycle I have spent so long trying to unravel and make sense of.

The older I got, the more I began to rely on the romanticism of the mundane, everyday growing-living-and-working I had to do to keep myself afloat.

The older I got, the more time I spent trying to take the perfect picture of the sky to help me feel better about my life and growing-living-and-working.

The older I got, the more beauty I began to see in the everyday car driving past and the cat on the outside window sill and the glow of the T.V. late at night.

The older I got, the more I began to realize that the only way to cope with growing-living-working-and-dying is to see the hidden beauty lying in the fresh rain drops on the stop sign and the intricate folds of a warm Starbucks buttered croissant and the hypnotic ocean blue of a kitchen hand soap.

The older I got, the more I began to sympathize for those around me who hadn't come to the same realization I had. For those who were barely making their way along, their fragile porcelain beings being chiseled away faster and faster by every failed Chemistry exam or every birthday spent in isolation or every burnt piece of toast.

The older I got, the more I understood the importance of using my knowledge and appreciation of my worldly surroundings to help support those around me.

I believe in always trying my hardest to plant my appreciation of life into others for the purpose of making their lives more pleasant and this sequence easier to accept. I know that I can't force others to see and understand the world in the way that I do. But I also know that I can share what others will accept and understand of my belief, knowing that it will help them cope with the growing-living-working-dying cycle better. I know that nobody appreciates the complex threads woven within each shoelace or the smooth yet sandy texture of the cover of There, There or the golden reflection of my own being on my bathroom door knob the way that I do. I know that although they don't understand these things the way that I do, that doesn't prevent me from doing whatever I can do to help ease the heartbreak of the growing-living-working-and-dying. I write short poems about appreciating the world for what it is and post them to lonely Facebook groups in hope of one electronic straggler stumbling upon my work and feeling inspired. Maybe two, three, or four. The numbers don't matter as long as at least one being sitting on the other side of the screen gets to peek into my world through the keyhole in the door. I will always spread my optimism and appreciation for my surroundings with those around me because I believe in the beauty of the normal life.

About The Author:

Mary Johnson is a young writer from California who has previously received Fresno State's Master of Fine Arts award at their 2023 Young Writer's Conference for her piece "The Beauty of the Everyday Life." She enjoys spending time with cats, as well as baking and roller blading in her free time.

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