Well, every day is all there is.
How to enjoy watching the flowers bloom.
An interview with Joan Didion
Like most people I’ve been trying to pick up new hobbies instead of “doomscrolling,” and as a result, I have finally started making floral arrangements. Or I’ve been buying a bunch of flowers and putting them in a vase together in a semi-floral arrangementesque way, and I’ve been loving it. I buy the flowers pre-bloom, put them in the vase, and wait for them to bloom. Which can take a couple of days, which used to drive me crazy. I mean I buy them, wait for them to bloom so I can truly appreciate the arrangement, and then they die not long after. Partly because I’m still learning about how to care for them, and partly because that is just how flowers work. They’re planted, they grow, then they die. That’s the fate of pretty much every living thing. This past Sunday I went on my usual Trader Joe’s run to grab some essential groceries and of course some new flowers. My favorite flowers, lilies, were finally available so I grabbed two bunches, completely closed and nowhere near blooming. After arranging them and placing them on my nightstand I gave myself a goal for the week: Take the time to appreciate the time spent waiting for the flowers to bloom.
I used to find that living could feel like a chore, especially when there were days when I wasn’t doing anything. Every day needed to be THE day. Too many days spent chilling at home felt harrowing. These were crucial days that could be spent living because, to me, any day that didn’t involve going out and doing something felt like a wasted day. There was always something else that could be done; There was always a future to work towards and a life that needed to be lived. While waiting for these epic life-filled days, I skipped over the mundane everyday experiences. Spending hours in my room working on my art assignment, binge-reading a book I couldn’t put down, going to the bookstore, and randomly deciding to rearrange my room because there was nothing else to do, these moments didn’t feel like living to me. They felt like a last resort, if I wasn’t going out today, I might as well just work on this painting or shift my bed over here. Yet, when I look back at my 15, 16, and 17-year-old self’s life, these are the moments that made those years. The compilation of time spent alone, with friends, with family, creating, and learning these came together to make life. So, why did they feel so unimportant at the time?
One of my favorite films is Wim Wenders’ Perfect Days, 2023. The film follows a man through his days as a toilet cleaner. His days may seem uneventful, but in the end that is what makes them so perfect. Moments where the sun shines perfectly through the branches and you capture it on your film camera. Playing your favorite song and driving on the highway watching the sun rise. Those are his perfect days. At one point in the film the protagonist’s niece visits him and asks him when they will be able to do something. He replies with “Next Time.” and after some questioning from his niece about when exactly next time is he simply says:
“Next time is next time.
Now is now.”
They ride their bikes off, while the niece chants:
“Next time is next time.
Now is now.”
The scene ends, and we never actually see next time, because now is actually what mattered. I spent a good chunk of being a kid waiting to be a teenager, and I spent a good chunk of being a teenager waiting to be an adult, and I spent my first three years as an adult waiting to be an adult who can legally drink. Now I’ve reached 21 and when I look back, all I can remember is the constant feeling of waiting for something else. Waiting for next time. To the point where I completely ignored the now, well, not now, I mean past me’s “now.” The reality is that next time, it was always coming. So, what’s the point of wasting your “now” waiting for it to finally happen?
You see the not-so-secret part about life is that so many people are plagued with regret about a life they didn’t cherish when they had the chance. The life with other people, now gone. A life in a city they love. A life with their favorite sneakers that disappeared one day in a move and they could never find again. No one ever says “I wish I spent more time waiting around for next time. For life to happen.” Youth is something that always seems to be lost, gone before they realized they wouldn’t have it forever. What you do while waiting for life to happen to you is what life actually is. Life is waiting for your coffee to brew in the mornings. Life is the annoyance you get when your train is delayed again on your way to work. Life is the car ride to that fancy dinner and the hope you feel when you get a call back for that job you’ve been wanting. There is no exact blueprint to build a life worth telling stories about.
When I was younger my favorite part of any important event, was the time leading up to it. Any graduation, vacation, wedding, etc. came with so much before it. Getting my hair done, shopping for new outfits at the mall with my mom, and being unable to sleep properly the day before. The event came and went and I found that the prep work, the excitement, the waiting that went into these big moments felt just as special to me as the event itself. They also felt like they took up more time as well. When I add up the amount of big events like this in my life, I come up with a small amount that don’t exactly account for the twenty-one years of life I’ve lived. When it comes down to it majority of the 21 years of life I’ve lived is composed of a little over 7,600 average days. That’s all it comes down to. I mean as John Lennon sang “Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.” Every day is all there is. Things are as important as the meaning you give them. So every seemingly meaningless day ends up adding up to a pretty meaningful life if you let it.
So, back to what inspired this post, the Trader Joe’s lilies sitting on my nightstand. Well as I waited for the time to pass I went about my life. I started a new book, burnt some brownies in the oven, went to the library, and woke up on Thursday to see that one of the lilies fully bloomed. I had just woken up that morning opened my eyes and it was right there, first thing I saw that morning (not as dramatic as it sounds it’s on my nightstand so it’s in my line of sight from my bed), but it happened. When I sat and thought about it I realized how much life I was able to live before the first flower even bloomed. It was in reality around four days, but everyday was a new now that I lived in that time, in that moment. Instead of focusing on the fact that I was waiting for the time to pass so the flowers could bloom I focused on the time itself and how I spent it. The flower still bloomed. Time is always passing, it’s all about how you choose to spend it. The important part about the fact that now is now and next time is next time is that next time will eventually become now, so there’s no rush. The time spent now is important because this was once the next time you were waiting for. Worded super weird but basically the time spent waiting for flowers to bloom is time well spent. Even if that time results in burnt brownies.
It’s friday night now and five out of nine lilies have bloomed, so four left, but that’s for next time. So, for now I think I’ll go to the movies, I haven’t been in a while.
this was a beautiful piece! a wonderful reminder to appreciate the now, as now is all we have! thank you for sharing:)