One of the most sacred weeks of the spring semester, spring break is a well-deserved respite from the daily grind and unpredictable March weather. Whether jetting off for a change in scenery or settling in at home, those few sacred days arrive just in time. Netflix and your mother’s best home-cooked dinner may spoon you back to functional human status, but a getaway has the instant restorative properties that alchemists could only dream of creating.
I was lucky the travel bug bit me at a young age. Breaking away from the bubble of the normal environment to indulge in a fresh reality is one of life’s greatest enjoyments. But my need to travel is a consistent affliction, peaking during momentary periods of mental breakdowns and mundane existence in which it often cannot be fulfilled. A 10-mile drive or a 10-hour flight away, any form of travel elicits a sense of escape from the ordinary.
When younger, I fixated on the concept of the destination, of going to a new place to say I had been there and done that. As I tally life experiences and supposedly grow a little wiser, I now live to travel for the opportunity to sample and share in a different existence and hopefully learn something I can take back home with me.
While writing this piece, I happily find myself nestled in the French West Indies, soaking in sunshine, salty seas and timeless sensibility. The former holistic elements have worked restorative wonders on my psyche and have neutralized my seasonal cynicism, at least temporarily. Yet opening my eyes and taking in what passes by reminds me of the importance of cultural relativity and helps to turn my self-important, fast-track American outlook into a refocused perspective.
We are all students in constant pursuit of success in a pressurized collegiate machine. Self-induced strain and the demands of our Brown microcosm combine with the greater angst of our over-stimulating, over-sharing, postmodern society to make us one of the most stressed demographics in the nation. The traditional American aesthetic of rugged individualism and rigorous education is proudly rooted in our cultural identity.
But as we continue to build that shining city upon the hill, our Puritan work ethic has morphed into the all-encompassing workaholic attitude of mounting masochistic stress for the sake of our happiness. Happiness? This is a frustrating irony, but an unfortunate norm that defines our social and cultural paradigm with damaging effects on all aspects of life. Despite our economic and industrial prowess, we rank 37th in life expectancy, on par with Costa Rica and Cuba. The average American is at far greater risk of heart disease, obesity and stress-related illnesses than the average European. We spend less time sleeping and engaging in leisure activities than all other people in the industrialized world.
We may scoff at the laissez-faire attitudes of our European counterparts and dismiss their whining over austerity as reflections of foundational laziness. We may also be empathetic toward Caribbean denizens for their limited access to bountiful opportunity and quality education. But both are doing something right that we often fail to do at home: live. Whenever transplanted at the crossroads of island time and French joie de vivre, I am able to dust away the residues of hyperactivity and calculation to clearly see what else exists out there: presence, listening, being.
I envy the fixture of family as a central social crux, where time is spent with each other, not each other’s devices and screens, and the meal is not an archaic means for quick fuel consumption, but a gathering where fresh food is shared, conversation is conducted and life is appreciated. Somehow the average American spends a rapid 67 minutes a day eating all meals; with no time left for proper digestion and conversation, no wonder we suffer from mounting obesity and impersonality.
Time is a valued friend, not an ominous foe locked in eternal battle with you. Individuals are capable of engaging in many dimensions of their reality, as they are consciously aware of fulfilling more than personal roles, such as a citizen of the world and steward of the environment. There is radiant enthusiasm and energy in living with spirit and genuine joy in being one’s self.
Perhaps I am generalizing too much from my observations, but who would not want to mix a bit of mindfulness with a taste of la dulce vita into their own life? It is important to rebalance perspective by taking one’s time and tuning down the four-cylinder engine, regardless of the day’s demands. Americans live to work. We need to work on how to live. Even a small addition of this philosophy can make the everyday feel more purposeful and fulfilling. Or if you’re looking for a more permanent fix, drop me a line and I’ll start packing.
Reid Secondo ‘16 enjoys living life and tries to experience mindfulness. Feel free to share how you feel fulfilled in life at reid_secondo@brown.edu.
