I do not think life is supposed to be simple. I think it has been and always will be a big tangled blob of things no one knows for sure. I also think that humans are far too capable of complicating things. It is in our nature to shy away from what is simple. We cannot take something good and make it great if we have the option of taking something good and tearing it to pieces. Nothing can just be. We must wonder how and why it got there.
I am one of those humans who refuses to accept simplicity. If I stumble upon a penny, I cannot just pick it up and go with the premise that I will have good luck all day. I have to ponder how that luck will manifest itself. I place a huge burden on that penny and, more often than not, the little guy cannot live up to my expectations. He could have been a simple coin, but I had to make him so much more.
But sometimes I surprise myself. Today the strangest thing happened when I was walking from point A to point B. It was cold and almost dark outside, and I took a deep breath and thought, "Well, this is sort of refreshing." And that was all. It was sort of refreshing to take a deep breath. I did not ponder why I was walking alone. I did not check my phone to see if anyone texted me, wondering why I was alone. I did not wonder why it was so cold in the spring. Simple.
There is a context for the realization of simplicity. I think the best way to avoid complicating simple things is to be alone. Solitude is terribly underrated in college. There are so many people to choose to be by your side; if you never wanted to be alone, you wouldn't have to be. But people complicate things. They talk and laugh and they exist, and their presence makes you think differently about things. Two people experiencing a refreshing breath of air inevitably will take note of it, either through words or body language, and the simplicity disappears. You begin to wonder how and why that refreshing breath of air got there.
It is not easy to be alone. It is not easy to think a thought and then put it aside and leave it be. But if you can - if you can be by yourself and you can appreciate the tiny things in life that need no explanation - then you can feel a cold March breeze like you've never felt it before.
I was standing, waiting for a bus. It was dark and I was by myself. I was no longer thinking about the cold March breeze. In fact the thought was so simple that I could leave it in the past and in the present, at the bus stop in front of the Chapel; I could witness something new and entirely uncomplicated. I watched students pour out of the libraries and come from dinner at the Corner and run breathless from the gym, and I watched them walk into the chapel. Some people were in groups, talking, unwittingly blowing huge puffs of white breath into the air.\nA lot of people were by themselves, heads down against the cold, walking into church as if they did so every Sunday night. And the thought hit me: of course they did. I've been to church maybe 10 times in my life, so seeing this influx of busy college kids walking into a building as if it were just another class, dining hall or apartment confounded me. They were just walking into a building. The lampposts threw their shadows across the sidewalk, and there was nothing complicated about what they were doing.
If someone were standing next to me, I probably would have said something pointless to fill the air: "Wow, maybe if I went and prayed a little bit, my grades would improve." I even could have kept my thoughts in my head and wondered how this mass of people made time in their day to put down their books, cell phones and laptops, sit in a church with a group of people they did not know and participate in one unifying activity. I could have wondered why I didn't join them.
Instead I just watched them. They simply were. I did not know how and why they got where they were, and I did not try to find out. I did not need to complicate their existence by questioning it. They were my evening's refreshing breath of air.
I came home and sat on the bed next to my sister and described what I saw and how I kept thinking the same thing over and over again: "That was nice." I told her that I felt strange repeating that thought and that I wondered why it wasn't followed by others. She smiled and nodded her head: "Yeah, that does sound nice." We sat in silence for a few moments and then resumed talking about her complicated love life. We analyzed and discussed why and how things were, but I don't think we tore the topic to pieces like we usually do. We realized that life could be more simple than that.
Connelly's column runs weekly Thursdays. She can be reached at c.hardaway@cavalierdaily.com.
Read More
What your contraception of choice says about you
By CD Life staff | 11 hours agoThere is no time like the present to consider the many birth control options available to us, each with their own unique personality.
It’s okay not to be okay
By Mai Hukuoka | January 8, 2025Whether talking to a friend, a loved one or a professional, it is so necessary, and human, to need more than you can provide for yourself.
Taking a break at Tangerines Kitchen
By Charley Thomas | January 6, 2025What the restaurant somewhat lacks in ambiance, it compensates for in tasty dishes and prompt service.
