Melancholy Traffic

“Sometimes I wonder about my life. I lead a small life. Well, valuable, but small. And sometimes I wonder, do I do it because I like it, or because I haven’t been brave? So much of what I see reminds me of something I read in a book, when shouldn’t it be the other way around? I don’t really want an answer. I just want to send this cosmic question out into the void. So goodnight, dear void.”

You’ve Got Mail

I’ve been feeling rather small lately.

Before you feel however that sentence makes you feel, know that I’m not sure that feeling small is a bad thing. When we stand next to the ocean, we feel like the tide could wash us away. When we stand on the edge of the Grand Canyon, we wonder how we can ever be more than a momentary echo in the distance. Feeling small and insignificant can be a good change of perspective. It reminds us, as my boss said recently, of “the inevitable march of time and our impending deaths.”

So I do think this perspective shift is good for us sometimes.

But it’s not always pleasant to experience.

For me, one of the things that makes me feel small is sitting in traffic. I don’t know if it’s because I grew up where loose cows were the only thing that caused traffic jams or if it’s just my personality, but stop-and-go gridlock on my commute can throw me into some serious melancholy. I start thinking about how it doesn’t matter where I’m going or who I am, because we’re all stuck here no matter what. I could be the world’s funniest person and no one would know. I could be on my way to my own wedding. It makes no difference. Traffic, death, and taxes wait for no man or woman.

And it’s difficult to face that reality. It’s difficult for me, anyway, to think of the size of the universe and my insignificance. It’s difficult for me to think about all the words I’ve said that no one will remember, the moments I’ve had that weren’t captured by a camera. (Or a smartphone, let’s be honest.) Even looking back on my old blog posts I sometimes think: does it even matter what I say? Will anyone remember? Will I even remember?

But like I said, this rather dramatic train of thought does carry valuable cargo: it makes me question myself. I question my words, I question my values, I question my feelings. And then I feel more feelings about how I’m questioning myself. It can be a bit of a downward spiral.

But if the unexamined life is not worth living, then it must follow that it’s helpful to have things in our lives that force us to do the examining, right? I can use these moments to counteract the tendency to waste my life watching hours of Hulu (re-watching old crime shows is my recent obsession.) I can let the melancholy waft through like smoke, learn from it, and then watch it drift away.

Which is probably a good conclusion to reach, because it’s summer and construction traffic sure isn’t going anywhere. I can’t beat ’em, so I guess I’ll join ’em by embracing the melancholy when it comes.

Are there things in your life that cause you to feel small? Do you think that’s good or bad?