Every day, I am amazed at the sheer volume of things I don’t know, information or knowledge that would have remained outside the range of my brain, things I’d have remained ignorant of had today not come.
For this alone, a day is worth living, worth waking up for, worth tolerating the clinging nuisance of life’s competent inconveniences.
I learnt, for instance, today that something I’ve always known its shape anywhere was not without in fact a name – ampersand. I discovered it had a history. Once lived among the alphabets as the 27th. That it grew out of a phrase (which you’ll do well to discover for yourself).
I realize, daily, that everything in sight, inanimate or gifted breath, off-putting or magnetic, tiny or large, balanced or ungainly, free or expensive, flower or bark – they all have histories.
They’ve all been somewhere. They’ve all meant something to someone occupying some other part of the world.
It may even be that only a few minutes before you spotted that object, that blind cripple, that dying tree, someone had been moved to tears by it, forced to break in their ambulation to join sorrows with the scene. That history, that’s what you connect with, without knowing it, without ever meeting that long-gone sympathizer.
I learn about a new plant, its favorite time of year, its preferred method of reproducing, its barren spell, the pain that grows it.
This is life. This is learning. This is growth. This is undoing your stupid.