Tuesday at 9:25 a.m. At this time, I will usually be in the process of hurriedly evacuating my dorm room in an attempt to get to my class, which is practically right across the street, and hopefully make it on time for once. There isn’t anything special about this short journey of mine. First I patiently tap my foot until the shiny metal contraption we call the elevator drops me off by the entrance, then I go through the double doors and navigate through the sea of people that appear out of nowhere until I reach the all too familiar Commonwealth Avenue. Finally, I cross the street, walking over the T tracks, skipping the stoplight (it’s inevitable when crossing that area. They might want to reconsider the timing on those pesky lights . . .), and making my way into the building of my destination at what should be hopefully 9:30. After that, I forget about my experience and focus on remembering everything that is being taught.
No big deal . . . or is it?
Think of the amount of times I found myself in a potentially risky situation in that short span of three to five minutes. We place a great amount of trust in a machine that moves us at great velocities through very high buildings, and crossing the street by mentally estimating the distance between you and the closest car and comparing it to the length of the road is certainly not the safest way to get around. All this happens in a span of not even five minutes. What about the rest of the day? Whether they are in houses or on streets, any appliances we interact with daily (especially those in the kitchen) can actually be quite a threat. Just think of how many things carry a label that claims they must be kept away from the reach of children.
Still, with all these potential dangers, every morning I make it to class without any of these worries passing through my mind for even a second. Instead, my mind is overwhelmed with smaller details such as what grade I’ll get on the next exam, whether it’ll get warmer in the afternoon, or where I will sit in the lecture hall. Those are little details that do not directly affect me at the moment, so in truth I am navigating precariously through the city with my mind lost in other places. We cross the street, and yet we don’t really think about it – it happens so frequently that we take it for granted.
Sometimes, we are truly greater than we realize at surviving in what many call the concrete jungle. Every day we cross streets and walk into elevators, worrying about getting to the right places on the right time, and yet the most basic things slip our minds because of it. We prioritize the short-term, more complex thoughts over the more boring basic repetitive thoughts, even if there’s danger involved. We think selectively.
It makes me wonder just how many day-to-day actions we’re carrying out in this same way of going on autopilot, so to speak, and getting things done without thinking about its most basic implications. I’ve come to the conclusion that there are far too many. We are like our brains – our eyes see everything, but our brains only remember what’s most important, what is necessary to remember and what won’t drive us crazy by the end of the day. What do you think about when you cross the street?
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