On Being Present Vs. Being Enraptured

Re-reading James Joyce’s “Araby”

“…These noises converged in a single sensation of life for me: I imagined that I bore my chalice safely through a throng of foes.”

This is my favorite line in James Joyce’s short story “Araby.” If you’re not familiar with it, you can read this annotated etext—it only takes about 20–30 minutes and is totally worth it.

In summary, “Araby” is about a young boy who is hopelessly infatuated with his friend’s sister and promises to get her a gift at a bazaar called Araby. He is delayed by his uncle, and when the boy arrives last minute to the bazaar (cue Semisonic’s “Closing Time”), is discouraged by a vendor’s indifferent attitude. He goes home empty handed, shattered romantic illusions in tow.

To put the line above in context, prior to his disappointing bazaar trip, the boy walks through a market with his aunt and is surrounded by typical-market clamor: men drinking, women bartering, and children yelling. His attention, however, is on the (non-present) girl — his “chalice.”

I picture him carefully bearing a cup far too large for him, filled to the brim, cautious to not spill a single drop. Even in this place of distraction, he performs a balancing trapeze act of its contents that have floored him.

Most of us remember the very first—and very confusing—feeling that crept into our adolescent chests and sweaty palms thanks to our first love. I don’t mean the boy band member with the hair, the unattainable Charlie’s Angels babes, or, in my case, Merlin (which explains so much); I mean the first person in the flesh that stole our naive hearts, leaving us with barely an explanation of all those bewildering, new feelings.

(Soon after we’ll realize our hearts and bodies can be silly, and stupid, and easily destroyed… but, I digress.)

This particular line in “Araby” illuminates these moments that we’re all inexplicably aware of: moments that take you to a different place, or time, or person — a cherished mentor, deceased grandparent, or wanted lover. Those sensory triggers that steal us from the present, like the taste of cinnamon cookies or ta waft of jasmine perfume, have a way of bowling us over.

They lock us up in a tower of our own head when we’re in a crowd. They allow us to be wholly lost in something without consciously exercising critical reflection.

Alternatively, a common life-betterment mantra is the idea of “being present.” This is certainly a necessary reminder in today’s world of maximum distractions of smartphones, rampant advertisements, troubling politics, and so on.

This “Araby” line makes me wonder if there’s a caveat to the mantra—an asterisk to the rule of being present.

• Are these “bowled over” moments a symptom of a well-lived life, of being truly human? Or should the boy have instead been more “present” by taking in the fleeting wonders of the market: the details, the colors, the faces?
• Can it be more fulfilling to be lost in someone/something, cradling the chalices of memory or yearning, amidst surrounding activity?
• Is one even better than the other?

Or are we all just floating around, trying to balance being present and being enraptured, as we prepare for life’s loves, trials, and tribulations?

(Tribulations include maybe just having to accept that Merlin and “first loves” are all but bizarre fairy tales.)