‘at ease’

Contemporary life is always in motion. There is always someplace else to be, something else to do. We are constantly made aware of where we are not, of what we are missing. Social dynamics are pushing us to always be connected. This makes it difficult to disconnect because we are frowned upon when we do.  You must be thinking: ‘What’s new? Why are you telling me this obvious truth?’ Well, it certainly is not to share a groundbreaking revelation. It is simply because I was excited by what happened when I was snapped out of this reality; which is something I wanted to document and share.

Recently, I was hastily walking through the city trying to catch the subway. My phone battery was drained by the long day prior, which left me somewhere between unknowing the exact time the metro would run and knowing it was soon. Then, practically running, I was stopped. Barriers rose and a bridge opened up: a boat was coming through. At first, annoyed by the slow pace of the vessel, I was quickly able to let go of this hasty feeling; the train had already left the station.

It took about ten minutes before the barriers came down and the bridge deck connected both sides of the water once more. Normally, I would probably spend those minutes checking my notifications, listening to music, reading up on the latest news, playing chess against someone in a faraway land, or any of another million possibilities the internet has to offer. But since that was not an option, I just stood there.

I stood there and watched. I watched the boat come through. I watched the cars on the other side of the water pass by; a man hastily taking his dog for a walk; a helicopter taking off from the hospital nearby; a crane shutting down for the night. And I watched the water, the buildings and the roads, the quays and the sidewalks, the trees and the solitary patches of grass.

I stood there and listened. I listened to the engines of the boat and the cars; the blades of the helicopter; the crane lights shutting down; and the dog wailing. I listened to the water crashing into the quays; the footsteps of pedestrians and the wind rustling through the bare branches of the trees.

I stood there and realized. I realized that the city, often referred to as a dynamic, lively entity, is framed by its buildings, roads and quays, all inanimate. I realized that the notion of the city contains a lot of controversies. As a city is often referred to as dynamic, bustling or lively, then why is it that we identify or describe a city using the possibly most passive objects it contains: its buildings. Why do we not describe what is truly holding the character of the city, namely the people and movements in it? When describing a painting we do not describe the framework, why is it that with cities we do? Is the convenience of describing a passive object outweighing the difficulty of describing character?

I stood there and felt. I felt that my train of thought was running at full tilt. I felt that one question after the other popped into my head, while not having the ability to answer it. I felt inspired; but weirdly, I felt calm. Although everything around me was moving and there were countless stimuli from both within and without, I felt at ease. I felt at ease because I was finally fully experiencing the moment, occupied with where I was rather than where I had to be.

The bridge deck slams back into its position. The calmness disappears quicker than it came and I am soon rushing to the subway once more, hoping to be able to catch the next one; nevertheless an experience and many questions richer. I hope that I can soon find the courage to simply disconnect again, sit somewhere, either quiet or bustling, and feel the same calm come back.