The quiet power of today

“Everyday is all there is.”- Joan Didion

I’m doing that thing again. The minutes are quickly turning into days, the days into weeks and the weeks to months. I’m spending more time looking at my calendar than actually doing the things on it. I’m forecasting, I’m estimating, I’m falling into living in the future, and it doesn’t take a genius to wonder why I’m a little unhappy. 

The draggings of February towards March seem to be especially plagued by this forward-thinking. As we all begin to anticipate the end of the semester, looking towards summer jobs and internships, thinking about what classes we are going to take next year, where we’re going to live or what our post-grad plans will be, it’s easy to get caught up in thinking too far ahead. Especially this year, with a few bouts of snow and many days of grey-weathered rain, I’ve found myself particularly inclined to look ahead and count down till sunnier, spring weather arrives. As much as I enjoy the view of snow flurrying to the ground, I’m tired of scarves and jackets and icy sidewalks.

I find myself getting lost in the immensity of my days, too. At the ripe age of 21, I’ve lived approximately 7,815 days, give or take, with each one filling its own 24-hour block, whether I like it or not. I often consider how these days take shape, how stringing three or four together in such a way leads to a project being completed or a book being read, a period of great friendship and love or a stretch of grief and loss. Sometimes I can anticipate this stringing and can see how the next week will be marked by studying for a certain exam or excitement for an upcoming holiday. But, other times, it is only in hindsight that I am able to see how certain weeks or months came to be marked by a specific emotion, person or event. 

With any thinking of the future, we cast away a piece of our present. We put a smidge more value in what could be over what is, sacrificing our current world in exchange for hoping towards a future one. But being able to think about moments beyond the present doesn’t mean you can experience more than one at a time. Didion’s words are a powerful reminder that this day, today, is all there is. Because when you wake up tomorrow, boom: there today is again. 

I find myself thinking of this quote often when considering time in big clumps — when I say that I study everyday, or go to the gym or have to make breakfast. “Ugh, I do this everyday,” I say to myself, to my roommate or to my mom over the phone. But Didion’s words offer the chance for us to step back and realize that this “everyday” is what truly makes up our lives. It encourages us to not let our everyday blur into a clump, but to be seen as the foundation of our lives. If my everyday routine is what makes up the majority of my life, is it not the thing in which I should be most invested? 

Didion’s words can seem bleak, addressing the monotony of our lives. They can be read downwardly, in defeat: “everyday is all there is …”. But I find them empowering, as a subtle YOLO of sorts, exclaiming “everyday is all there is!”, a call to immediate action. They illustrate how the greatest control we have over our lives comes from putting energy into our everyday routine, rather than master planning our futures. They encourage us to reassociate our laments about what we do “everyday” and be more intentional about how we shape our days. To be a little more present when we talk to that friend, or to take the extra moment to cook our daily breakfast to perfection or to step a little lighter on our daily walk to campus. Didion’s point of view urges us to incorporate pieces of joy into our lives now, to make our everyday's that much sweeter, rather than relying on special occasions to make our lives remarkable.

So, minding all your future plans and aspirations, I quietly remind you that what you do each day is as important as what you plan to do tomorrow. While our reflections on our current days will inevitably become blurs of trends of highs and lows, I urge you to consider the days individually as we live them. We can think in strings or clumps, or look back and find patterns, but, in the moment, we can only be here, and no matter how our minds stretch it, each day is the same 24-hour block marching forward and forward. And how your days walk, their sway and style, is up to you, everyday. And that’s all there is to it.