Finding Sparkle in the Everyday

This piece is in memory of Jenni Baker who created art out of David Foster Wallace’s writing, made a career finding sparkle in the everyday, and whose life ended far too soon.

Picture a typical office. A desk, a laptop, a padded chair. Some plants, some light, the burnt smell of coffee. A photo or two. An award or two. Bits and pieces of a life.

I have been thinking about the curious place in which people can find themselves, where life can feel all too routine: a little more rinse-and-repeat than chasing the dream, let along living it. Like when maybe a few things at your current job are okay, or not good enough to celebrate and not bad enough to feel compelled to leave. There, we just sort of drift . . . restless, distracted, often a bit bored.

With Thanksgiving upon us, I was fortuitously reminded of the famous commencement speech the late writer David Foster Wallace delivered at Kenyon College. In a brazen move that perhaps only he could pull off as charming, he avoided the usual preachy advice to newly minted graduates and spoke instead about the truth of adult life, offering a powerful insight to all, not just those donning a cap and gown that day.

“The plain fact is that you graduating seniors,” he said, “do not yet have any clue what ‘day in day out’ really means. There happen to be whole, large parts of adult American life that nobody talks about in commencement speeches. One such part involves boredom, routine and petty frustration.”

It was the everyday-ness of adult living where the real work of being an adult began. And that work of life was to pay attention. Even in a pre-Zoom-fatigue world, Wallace recognized the genuine challenge of being present, of noticing. “But,” he said, “if you really learn how to pay attention, then you will know there are other options.” The routine drudgery of a workplace can present itself anew with the meaning and interest you choose to find there. There is power and freedom in that choice.

If you saw the lovely little Pixar film Soul last year, you might recall the moment near the end where the story seems to pause for a few seconds, and one of the main characters (Soul Number 22) experiences the everyday-ness of human life for the first time. A patch of sun, falling leaves, a busy street. There’s a sparkle in each of those things she hadn’t caught before. She gets a glimpse of what human life might really consist of. No major drama. No deep philosophy. Just the beautiful everyday regular-ness that becomes profound in its own way.

One of my friends has an ex-boyfriend who perhaps could have been described as “a little too extra” — constantly going overboard, each outing bigger, bolder, better than the last one. There was a whole lot of wow, with very limited “how about a movie on the couch?” Well, that didn’t work out. And the person who replaced him? Warm, personal, intimate. A good listener. A little on the quiet side. It’s a kind of heaven. These days they cook dinner, they go for a run, they talk. Normal everyday human stuff. They seem to find sparkle and shine, as well as genuine comfort, in the routine things. Whether you’re a person who thrives in routine or not, razzle-dazzle can both exhaust and distract us from the meaning hidden inside all of this available everyday-ness. We choose to be bored, frustrated, or angry. The opportunities to derive meaning, purpose, joy are everywhere; it’s on us to choose to look.

So this Thanksgiving, I’m aiming for awareness and recognition across the highlights and hassles alike. (Admittedly, with some pent-up travel energy, I’m actually looking forward to the TSA line.)

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