During summer I attempt to read a lot. I set my reading challenge on Goodreads at the beginning of the year, but always give myself more grace and leeway during the school year as the tedious homework and social life of university takes up most of my time. So summer is where I get the bulk of my reading done. I like to challenge myself to read 1-2 books per week depending on size, density, and topic (ie. I probably will be able to finish a 500 page Fantasy book in 3 days, but a 250 page classic could take the whole week). Nevertheless-in New York, I have been reading a lot with all my free time.
I have been hitting up the many branches of the NYPL for multiple reasons, it saves money (sometimes I cannot justify buying a 25 dollar block of paper filled with ink). Space, no room in the suitcase, and discovery, lots and lots of discovery. Libraries can feel overwhelming with the sheer amount of books they hold-it can be daunting to pick up a random one and decide to walk out with it with no idea of how good it is. While I've had my fair share of bad library reads, I’ve also had an equal amount of satisfactory, beautiful, and spectacular library reads. In my opinion-there is no better feeling than picking up a random book in a library with no preconceived notion, discovering it is one of my new favorites, and going through the five stages of grief when I have to return it.
Which brings me to Matt Haig’s The Humans.
I stumbled upon this book as I was browsing at the Bryant Park location. I was familiar with this author and dearly loved The Midnight Library by him-but sometimes authors fall short on their other books so it's still a gamble.
I didn’t really know what I was looking for in this library-just a good read, and the orange cover caught my attention. (Despite popular beliefI do judge a book by a cover, this is what draws me in-all my favorite books have good covers. Many bad books have bad covers. There are exceptions, but generally, I judge).
After inspecting the book and getting a general idea of what it’s about I flipped to the last page and read the last line (a ritual I have with every book) I decided I liked the last line, and luckily, did not spoil the plot, so I checked it out and walked away with my orange book in hand.
I had no expectations going in-and yet I came out with my whole perspective of life altered.
I looked like a mad woman reading The Humans as it had me laughing out loud for extended periods of time, making me cry for the last 10 pages, and listening to “This Must Be The Place” on repeat for the past three days.
I don’t want to give too much away-but the whole premise is about an alien who comes to Earth in human form-he experiences the world for the first time and brings the reader along with him. As the reader-you feel like you're experiencing the world for the very first time with the alien-or at least reminded of the many complications, beauties, and normalcies that create humanity. It’s refreshing really.
Again-without giving too much away- one of the questions that was brought up over and over again was the concept of life mattering or not.
Generally, in a stressful situation, or an event that seems heavy at the time, we often resort to the good ol' saying: “Nothing even matters! We are all gonna die anyway! So what’s the point!”
I used to subscribe to this belief to get me to do something new or take the stress off a situation.
Big test coming up? Yes I will study hard, but in the end, it doesn't even matter-i’m going to die anyways.
Afraid to make the first move? Sure-I may get rejected, but in the end, it doesn't even matter-i’m going to die anyways.
Can’t workout for a few days because I got sick? Sure I’ll be slightly annoyed at the inconvenience but in the end, it doesn't even matter-i’m going to die anyways.
Flight got canceled? It sure does suck, but in the end, it doesn't even matter-i’m going to die anyways.
We often use this term as a push to do something-and an attempt to take the weight off one’s shoulders. Life is not that serious, we all end up buried underground or dissolved into ashes and whatever one believes happens after that-we all end up somewhere, or nowhere… but definitely dead!
I do enjoy this term and jargon. It’s often a good mindset to have, especially considering it helps me calm down my nervous system and realize that us humans aren’t all that different.
But I also think-like anything- too much of a good thing can be detrimental and harmful. When this school of thought that “nothing matters” begins to become our backup for every situation, it begins to take away the little treasures life has in store for us, and the special moments each second holds-even in the mundane.
Here me out.
Everything matters.
At first read I was also a bit turned off. NO IT DOES NOT, I thought, if everything matters then won’t I become obsessed with every little thing? Suddenly that one math test I took in high school on pre calc MATTERS? That rejection letter MATTERS? The yogurt bowl I ate once again for breakfast MATTERS?
Yes Catalina, yes it does.
Everything matters because as far as I know I only have this one life, 30,000 days if I get lucky-and possibly even less. If I make it to 92 I only have 27028 days left! Days matter.
Everything matters because I want to spend every day enjoying my cup of coffee in the morning sun. I love the feeling of the warm mug against my fingertips-and the nutty rich creamy flavor absorbing into my tastebuds. The coffee matters.
Everything's matters because if I only ever have this body to live in, the last thing I want to do is spend hours picking it apart in a mirror wishing it looked like something else. I want to have gratitude for its ability to move, dance, run, lift, flip, rest, sleep, feel, change, and grow. My body matters.
Everything matters because even the dreaded AP HUGE class in highschool holds some of the best memories. I treasure the days of sitting in the back of the class with four other seniors where we talked, laughed and created plans to avoid the homework and rule the world. Stupid classes matter.
Everything matters because even when colleges denied my application, it brought me to the one school that feels like home. Rejections matter.
Everything matters because even the long days of traffic, the same commute to work, the redundant walk back home, and the canceled flight, all offer something new. They all provide some type of lesson or answer brought to fruition later in life, they all have some time of impact, someway, somehow.
It all matters.
Everything matters.
The daily tasks, and the once in a lifetime experiences, they all hold equal weight. They all can turn into snippets of memory that have the power to live within us forever.
I want to walk away knowing that I made it matter. Knowing I attempted my best. And squeezed every ounce of life I could out of each second I held.
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