I started commuting to school from my childhood home this year. At first, it felt exhausting. I'd get off of the busy subway only to get onto the busy train and then the busy highway. I also started to feel like I'd joined this "institution" of downtown Toronto-bound commuters. Observing the rhythmic behaviours of the people around me made me feel like a pawn in this sterile system of "movement".

Keep to yourself. File into slow-moving, silent, tired lines. Avert eye or physical contact. Headphones in, phone or bag in hand. 

I've since significantly reduced my headphone usage and started trying to talk to more commuting strangers just to prove to myself that I haven't become institutionalized, that this practise hasn't coloured me bland. 

But with time, I've settled into a better routine by avoiding rush-hour commuting. This routine is one that lets me connect more with the people around me, which has been a treat. At the end of the day,  hearing about a scientists' strategy to fill up her Pandora bracelet and learning about the aggressive housing market in Italy from a man who'd returned to Canada after two years abroad are more enjoyable than peaceful silence ever was. Overhearing snippets of conversation from others also serves as a welcome reminder of how different everyone's realities look.

 

This past Thursday, I overheard two man talking about their kids on the train. The older man told his friend:

"They always wanted mum, because I was never around."

I've since tried to remember how his voice sounded when the words came out of his mouth. Was there contempt, disappointment, indifference? 

The man described having the need to be physically present at his store, and how that meant that he made to physically be behind the counter - whatever his health condition was - as much as possible. 

His comment made me think about the concept of "showing up". Countless stories document this same tough tradeoff made by people who express regret that they misjudged their priorities. However, does having ambition create an inevitable tradeoff where you can show up in only certain spheres of your life and not others? Is the price to having ambition bound to be one's quality and duration of sleep, plans with family and friends, hobbies or rest days? Does the degree to which one sacrifices these things correlate with the amount of success one achieves in their careers? 

I've been reckoning with this questions since I started school about six weeks ago. I sometimes have to really remind myself that school and my other endeavours are meant to run concurrently, and that there will never be a good time to drop all my other goals to only focus on one. So how can I acknowledge the demands of school, which can be heavy, while knowing that sacrificing is not desired. 

One of the struggles I'm currently facing is how not avoid measuring effort through struggle or sacrifice. Sometimes, I feel that a day without deprivation means I haven't worked hard that day. That hard work and "peace" cannot co-exist. If there is little struggle, was the goal set too low?

In an attempt to reconcile these doubts and questions, I've recently begun redefining the following word:

"Productivity"

Whereas productivity was something I'd limited strictly to academic work or writing an application, I am now trying to view productivity as the way I show up in every moment and opportunity. If I'm reviewing lecture material or writing a reflection for class, am I actively present? If I'm sitting in the car with my papa on the 20 minute ride home from the train station, am I using these 20 minutes to connect with him (to not just sit in silence)? If I'm holding a sumo squat or doing mountain climbers, am I holding my body strong so that I feel the exercise? If I'm talking to my sister on the phone, am I really listening? If I've been asked a question, am I giving the short incomplete answer or the longer, more energy-intensive but complete one? And most importantly, if I'm having a snack am I having peanut butter with it to maximize my enjoyment?? (I'm a new peanut butter fanatic)

Sometimes, I'll answer yes to these questions. Other times, I'll answer no. My goal is to catch myself while I'm saying no and adjust my approach to life on those days where I'm not feeling my best. 

This is how I'll try to show up in every moment. Even in the low-energy, dejected moments when everything seems like it's going wrong. 

Just as was the case with the research project and LiA, the degree to which we show up to these self-crafted projects dictates how much we take away from those experiences. They are also each a test of how widely and openly we can think, and what we can do to help ourselves show up for the causes and issues that matter most to us. As I want to make the most of my LiA next summer, I want to use practises like these to help me show up best when it matters.