“Most of life is so dull that there is nothing to be said about it, and the books and talk that would describe it as interesting are obliged to exaggerate, in the hope of justifying their own existence…there are periods in the most thrilling day during which nothing happens, and though we continue to exclaim, ‘I do enjoy myself,’ or, ‘I am horrified,’ we are insincere.”
I am still young enough to think that every moment of life should be full of interest or excitement or difficulty. I still believe the books and movies that condense all of life into a few hours of constant action where every moment holds significant meaning. I wonder at the emptiness of some moments, when mopping the floor or grading papers seems so mundane. Even the very things that I am here for – teaching, getting to know students, and all that – are sometimes boring. Even the most exciting adventures are made up of ordinary moments.
Maybe you think that life is different for me because I am in China. I am across the world in a fascinating, exotic place. Maybe you think that because I am doing something that seems meaningful or adventuresome or exciting that I live in constant awareness of life’s significance. Maybe you even think sometimes, “I wish I were doing something like that instead of whatever mundane thing I am doing right now. Life would be so much more interesting.” I often think that about other people, but now that I am doing something exciting and adventurous, I realize it’s just not true.
What seems more real than the great adventure I am living is the frustration at not being able to find the butter. I can think about my distant, ethereal “love” for the Chinese people in a warm-fuzzy, glazed eye sort of way until I see the man picking his nose right in front of me. Gross. Standing between me and the brilliant, meaningful, thought provoking class times I imagine are hours of lesson planning, grading student work, and trying to figure out how to make copies. Sometimes I eat delicious Chinese food and other times I scrounge around in my kitchen and all I come up with is a PBJ.
Life is more like a 9 hour long documentary than a 15 minute travelogue. It’s hard to not be frustrated with myself that I do not “feel the excitement” of living in China. But really, this is what most of life is like. No soundtrack. No two hour time frame. No stunning scenery in the background. No stunt-men jumping off of waterfalls. Just life, moving slowly, moving quickly, where most of the meaning is found in the invisible realms.
[The quote is from A Passage to India by E.M. Forster. It’s a depressing book about the British in India. If there is anything I don’t want my cultural relations to look like, it is probably the British in India.]
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