Everything around you instructs. All sights are meant to teach, intended for observation and thorough study. Nothing should be dismissed. All things are more than things. They are stories, they are individual narrators, they—in calling them ‘they’—are meaningful and significant. More than merely personified. Your keys, your coffee, the pen next to your right hand, your wallet, the phone over by the exit…. All of it. Each piece in the scene is a voice, part of the concert of the day. For you and your story, your growth.
You will make your day something forwarding and rich by seeing into what comprises the moment’s composition. All things are more than things. They are past simple considerations and deconstruction. Your vision and intentions compound from where you are. It’s more than the effort of making the day your own, or owning the day, but allowing yourself to be a part of the day’s loving composition.
What do people want from the day? To have a good day, so many tell me. How do you do that? By not protesting what you don’t yet have, or what’s absent. Celebrate where you ware, what you do have. What’s right in front of you. The immediate object is a teacher, as is the not-so-near. Adjust your perception to better be with your scene. Don’t resist, and don’t surrender. Be concerted, integral in the day’s concert and sown song.
Send yourself into the day as a student. One on Day 1. Not knowing what’s on the syllabus, not knowing the mannerisms of the instructor. Love, exclamation, of this new student life. Make it your everything, from every thing, and seeing “things” as not such. But, stories, voices, characters, additions and embraces of your character—where you are and what you’re doing. The composition of your scene invites you, lovingly. You love it back with presence and effort, study and a new personification of self and scene.