Last month, I made a spontaneous decision to spend the remaining weeks of the year at my grandmother’s home in a quaint village, far removed from the city in hopes of figuring out the secret of a still life.
This village, home to barely 200 residents, seemed to be frozen in time, with the majority of its people being above the age of 50 — at least, that was my perception as a 22-year-old outsider.
I decided to come here because, in my head, this place was a perfect picture of a still life.
I’ve spent my entire year (2023) chasing the dream of a still life. I tried different routines, and schedules, removed uncertainties, and did a lot of other things in hopes of achieving a sense of stillness in my life. So naturally the idea of these villagers living my dream was very exciting to me and I wanted to find out how are they achieving it.
So, I watched them do their stuff for a few days. They were doing a lot before 9 AM, way more than I do in my city life. I mean, they’re up with the sun, doing all sorts of stuff — feeding animals, fetching water, and whatnot. And I started thinking, “How is this a still life?”
Because honestly, they’re hustling way more than me. My routine is pretty simple: wake up, go to work, hit the gym, maybe hang out with friends, then sleep. Repeat six days a week.
But here in the village, it’s different. Their day is packed with chores, and there’s always some uncertainty. Unlike my job where it’s the same routine every day. So why does their life feel calm, and mine’s all over the place?
Turns out I got it all wrong. My definition of a still life was, um, incorrect!
In the city, my idea of still life was cutting down on things, making everything predictable and certain. But in the village, it’s different. They have a lot going on, but there’s a rhythm, a flow to it. It’s like they’re dancing through their tasks, and everything just fits.
A still life is all about achieving flow in your daily activities.
In my pursuit of stillness, I was trying to freeze everything, and make it all static (because still = static in my head). But here, in the village, stillness is about being in sync with the natural flow of life. It’s about waking up with the sun, tending to daily chores, and not rushing through it all.
Their uncertainty isn’t chaotic; it’s more like a gentle unpredictability. There’s a simplicity to their routines, but it’s not a lack of activity.
It’s an embrace of the present moment, an immersion in the tasks at hand.
So, it’s not about doing less; it’s about doing differently. It’s about finding a balance where you’re not fighting against time but flowing with it. I guess that’s the essence of a still life — not the absence of movement but a dance with the rhythms of life.
I’m starting to see that the key to stillness is not in standing still but in flowing with purpose and grace.
So yes, I spent my entire year chasing something the wrong way. But that doesn’t make me unhappy instead it makes me excited to see how the next year in my life shapes up based on the learnings from this one.
Cheers to an amazing 2024.
