Less Drama, More Excitement

I think it’s helpful to distinguish between drama and excitement. I think the more fundamental human need is excitement. Drama is just the version of excitement we generally settle for.

They say you can’t get enough of what you don’t really want. If we’re eating food because really we’re lonely, then we can’t get enough food to do the job. Similarly, if we’re using drama to get our excitement, we’ll never get enough of it.

Relaying on drama is like getting your calories from a junk food diet. It’ll keep you going in the short run, but you won’t get the nutrition you need. People get their drama by watching movies and TV, reading novels, and so on. They also create it in their lives. Over and over and over. Just as having some cake every now and then isn’t going to kill you, having a little drama here and there is to be expected. But you can’t live a meaningful life if you’re addicted to it.

What about excitement? Every moment of our lives is different from any before. This is only a cliché if you don’t really embrace it. If you really take that seriously, you can experience how every moment is offering you something new.

We’re always moving into new situations and settings—bedroom, kitchen, work, school, a restaurant, a park. Heraclitus said you can’t step into the same river twice, for it’s not the same river. And you’re not the same person. We are slightly different people each day. We are changed by the experiences we’ve had, especially if we take the time to chew on those experiences. Everything, including us, is always changing. Our life is a 24/7 river-rafting trip. That’s exciting!

Unless it stays some nice-sounding words on a screen. Wisdom can only prove itself by being practiced. And practiced and practiced and practiced. It is also important to practice.

How? You can consciously ride the river by being in as many moments as you can. By looking around. By noticing things in your environment. By noticing things internally—how you’re feeling, tension in your shoulders, little nudges of intuition. You can take delight in more things in the everyday. The chirping of a bird. The sun through some leaves. The breeze on your arms. The slipping of a t-shirt over your skin. The taste of a mouthful of food. Of the hundreds of thousands of mouthfuls of food you have sloshed around your tongue, how many have you fully savored?

We can also consciously change how we perceive people in our lives. Or at least consciously be open to doing that. We can play a game of trying to wipe the slate clean when we see our partner or child or friend. Imagine you’re seeing them for the first time. Notice things about them—especially good things. Notice your own automatic reactions. And don’t take those reactions as necessarily true. Just be aware of them. Let them just be there like a squirrel on your windowsill.

Take any activity that has become routine and robotic—walking to your car, making coffee, doing the dishes, interacting with a cashier—and this time be present in it. Take it in. This is your life, my dear! Your precious life. Smell. Look around. Look into the eyes of the cashier and recognize them as a fellow person instead of a functional unit called a “cashier.” Wonder about things around you. Don’t take them for granted. We don’t remember it nearly enough: This is life. Don’t wait until your deathbed to realize this was life.

Making this change isn’t all unicorns and fairies. You will need discipline. You will need trust. You may have thought that worry, drama, rushing, and thinking about your big important missions in life were necessary to keep your life on track, to keep in control. Those are just voices in your head. And they are lying. Yes, we are all psychotic. It’s quite normal. But at least for a few minutes each day, you don’t have to take your voices seriously. They don’t want you to see how amazing life can be without them.

At first, you may feel like your life has become boring. It’s a bit like quitting heroin. There’s a comedown. You want a drama fix bad. You may also feel you have become boring. The ego is taking a hit: “What about my mission? I’ve got important things to do. I don’t have time to be looking at some goddamned leaf.” I, for one, now find my litany of self-importance far more boring than being open to my outer and inner world.

Paradoxically, you may also find an extra-strong resurgence of drama when you start doing this. Drama will act like an abusive partner when you make moves to leave them: “Come back! You’re selfish! I need you! Who do you think you are?” Don’t worry about this. You don’t need to resist the drama or struggle with it. Let it scream. Just ride it out. Just keep up your quiet affair on the side with your sensual new lover.

If you do, a lot will change. Your whole ground will shift. Better ideas will visit you. After all, you’ve cleared some space inside to receive them. Life will feel suffused by a nameless glow. You will too. This practice has transformed my life. It makes me want drama less. I’m fulfilling that need more and more by the freshness and newness and richness of every single moment of my precious life.

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