"We're caught in the treads of your shoes and the tires of your cars. You may think we're small and insignificant, but our stories are vast." (Voices of Nature)
Nature - often, we either overlook it or only take notice when it's awe-inspiring, breathtaking, and extraordinary. Think of a majestic waterfall, a serene mountain landscape, or a seaside sunset. Volcanic eruptions, flamingos, butterflies, and tornadoes capture our attention.
But what about... a cricket's chirp? The common sparrow's flight? The embers of a fire dancing in the night? The water in your glass? The wind gently toussling your hair? The rocks you unknowingly kick on your path?
What's fascinating is how frequently we ignore these daily wonders, even though they envelop us. Perhaps it's because they are so prevalent, so we take them for granted. Science has a term for this - "hedonic adaptation," or our tendency to become accustomed to the things that populate our lives.
I believe this is where literature steps in. When we read, we don't merely escape into another world; we learn to see our world with fresh eyes. We rediscover those things we habitually overlook. Over and over again. It's a way of bringing mindfulness to the ordinary - shoutout to my fellow researchers at the SFB "Cultures of Vigilance"!
You might have come across a famous quote online, often attributed to Marcel Proust (and In Search of Lost Time):
"The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new lands but seeing with new eyes."
For someone who dedicated dozens of pages to describing ordinary scenes, this makes sense. Proust is also renowned for his madeleine episode, where the narrator dips a madeleine into a cup of tea and meticulously describes the taste, texture, and aroma.
In our busy lives, savoring our food is often the last thing we consider. I believe this is also one of the reasons why we "can't get no satisfaction," but that's a subject for another post.
So, my focus is on returning to the ordinary, especially in a world that constantly urges us to be extraordinary. This is where magical realism as a genre piques my interest. I grew up reading Mircea Eliade and Paulo Coelho. Often associated with Latin American writers like Gabriel García Márquez, magical realism is a genre that blurs the boundaries between fantasy and fact. Magical realism sounds like a contradiction in terms, it's either magic or reality. Until it's not. You can read more about it here.
I'm not delving into the realm of fairies, unicorns, or spirits, although I do appreciate these fantastical elements. In my case, they also demand a significant suspension of disbelief. But I admire those readers who find joy in them, as they somehow maintain the glow of a child's soul. Instead, I'm on a journey to uncover that sense of wonder within the everday, even within scientific concepts. I think literature excels at this very task - to unveil the magic within the mundane world (of science).
What does literature mean to you? Where do you find moments of magic and wonder in your daily life?
PS. Here's another song from the category "ordinary miracle":
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