How to Improve the Quality of Your Everyday Life

Everyone’s life is made up of repetitive events that seem unremarkable. Driving to work, starting a load of laundry, sorting the mail, making dinner, brushing teeth.

These types of moments make the majority of life, but they’re so routine that we don’t think about them, and we don’t bother to remember them or relate their details to anyone else.  They’re too boring for that.

Unfortunately, by letting all of these daily events remain mundane, we miss the vast majority of our time here on earth.  Instead, we give our attention to a few more-exciting events of the past, or to imagined future occasions.  We learn the habit of ignoring where we are and what we’re doing in favor of thinking about what we need to do at work while we’re in the shower, thinking about the weekend while we’re at work, and thinking about what will happen next week when it’s still Saturday afternoon.

It might be summer, but we’re waiting for school to start.

Learning from little ones

Children have a remarkable capacity to become interested in all kinds of things we dismiss or don’t even notice.  Just go to the park with a 2- or 3-year-old and see what happens. 

He runs, spreads his arms, and pretends he’s an airplane or a race car.  He stops to watch a squirrel race up a tree, and then notices how big the fallen leaves are (the park is full of London Plane trees, which drop leaves and twigs all year).  He runs around picking up leaves to make a bouquet.  Then the leaves are released one by one as he runs – they fly briefly.

Soon there’s a ladder to climb and a slide to go down (“Look how high I am, Grandma!  Watch how fast I go!”), a passing dog to watch (and pet, if the owner says it’s okay), a flitting butterfly, or a floating cloud.  If he looks in the right direction, he might point out the pale daytime moon you completely missed, and wonder why it’s up when the sun is shining.

Everything is worth noticing and wondering at.  And you thought you were just going to sit on a park bench and do something on your phone while he played for a while!

Young children constantly imagine and explore, and we’re so boring we just go through the motions of almost every task we do.  My dad used to say that only boring people were bored.  That must be our problem.

Is it possible for us to recultivate our interest and sense of wonder at the world?

Using our senses

One method for increasing attention (and therefore wonder and enjoyment) is to make at least some of our daily tasks into rituals.  Now, I don’t mean something that requires incense and chanting.  It’s simply a matter of slowing down and taking a bit of care.

Author David Cain writes that the purpose of ritual “is to remind you that what you are doing is significant simply because it is what you are doing right now.”  Right now is when you are experiencing life – not yesterday, and not tomorrow.  Now.  Ritualizing a behavior lets you choose to appreciate the moment itself and its physical details, instead of letting mental chatter (or worse, outside chatter from any sort of media) distract you.

How might this look?

Say you’re making a cup of tea.  Instead of fretting about how long it takes the kettle to boil, or distracting yourself with your phone or another task, deliberately gather your tools:  kettle, mug, a mesh infuser if you’re using one.

Assemble your consumables:  tea, perhaps a bit of milk, sugar, or a slice of lemon.  (Be sure to savor the scent of lemon as you slice it.)  What kind of tea will you choose?  Green, oolong, black?  Or perhaps a blend such as chai or Earl Grey?  Maybe you prefer something herbal, such as rooibos, peppermint, or chamomile.  Aren’t you fortunate to have so many choices?

Run water into the kettle, feel its growing weight, and take a moment to appreciate this fresh, clean liquid that enters your home at the touch of your hand.

Turn on the heat.  Put your tea in the cup.  And be careful, because you now face one of modern society’s ever-present dangers, which is the boredom and distraction we feel when nothing very interesting happens for a few minutes.  Your habits will want to kick in.  You’ll be tempted to take out your phone, or you’ll start thinking about your to-do list or what might happen next week.

Stay where you are.  You’re making tea.  Try to pay attention for the next two or three minutes.  Look out the window, if you must do something, or stretch and feel your body.  If you can, just stand by the stove.  Listen to the increasing pitch as the water heats and those molecules speed up.  Let the time pass without feeling that you should be somewhere or do something else.

If you stay with it, your simple experience of standing or looking outside will last until the kettle boils.  It might whistle, or it might just steam, but this isn’t a crisis.  You don’t have to overreact.  Watch the cloud of steam for a moment, then remove the kettle from the heat.

Pour the water.  Smell the fragrance, feel the warmth.  Set the kettle aside, burner off.

Find a saucer to put your teabag or infuser on once the tea is fully steeped.  Take it, and your cup, to your chair.

Walking with a scalding liquid is an act that requires mindfulness, so I don’t have to tell you to pay attention!  Settle the cup and saucer before you even think about sitting down.  Then take your seat, but don’t just plop down.  Lower yourself, and let your body relax into the chair.

Feel the chair supporting you.  Let go of the tension in your legs, abdomen, and shoulders.  Loosen your jaw if you have a habit of clenching it.  Adjust your clothes if they’re a bit disarrayed.   Find a place for your hands to rest for a few minutes while your tea steeps.

A gift of time

Now take a deep breath, deeper than you usually do, and feel the rest of your tension dissolve as you breathe out.  The tea will take a few more minutes, and that’s good.  This time is a little gift for you if you will only see it that way.

Use these moments to listen.  What can you hear that you usually ignore?  Perhaps a car passes on the street, or a neighbor’s door closes, or a dog barks.  I have a clock on the wall that ticks quietly, rhythmically, comfortingly.  Eventually, you’ll notice a curl of steam or a whiff of scent, and you’ll discover that your tea is ready.  When you are ready, remove the spent tea, pick up your cup, and take a sip.

Take your time.  Really – take it.  Give it to yourself.  Everything in your world, except for sitting with your drink, can be dealt with later.

At first, five or ten seemingly idle minutes may make you feel nervous.  How can you defer everything until you finish your tea?  Whatever normally holds you captive during the day – career plans, family issues, budget concerns, the tidiness of your house, a desire for a strong, healthy democracy and world peace – can all be picked up again and fretted about once your tea is finished.

I shouldn’t have to say this, but whatever happens, leave your phone alone, even if it chimes or vibrates as you sit and sip.  It’s just a sound.  Whatever its significance, you can learn about it later.

Meanwhile, keep sipping, and really taste your tea.  Can you describe the flavor?  Also look around you.  Notice the pictures and ornaments you usually ignore unless they’re in the way or you dust them.  Notice the books on your shelf, the toss pillows on the couch, or the dishes in the china cabinet.  If you happen to be unshod, feel the texture of the rug or floor with your feet.

This is meant to be relaxing, not a “discipline.”  To those of us who are busy, with long to-do lists (all of us, I guess), it probably feels indulgent.  But this is how to improve the quality of everyday experiences. 

Most indulgences are pleasures that aren’t good for our health or welfare, such as mindless entertainment, junk food, alcohol, or shopping.  But this isn’t the case here.  The pleasure comes from the simplest of ingredients:  a cup of tea, attention, and time.

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About the Author: Karen Trefzger is a writer, singer, teacher, wife, mother, and grandmother who has been choosing a simpler life for over 20 years. She is the author of several books about minimalism, and blogs at Maximum Gratitude Minimal Stuff.