Alive, though barely, I was on the train home after a horrendous lab, watching the same stations pass by like they always do. 

Doors closing. Please stand clear. 

Across from me, a guy in a suit was hunched over his laptop, typing like something might fall apart if he stopped. A girl by the window was rewatching the same TikTok over and over, her face washed in the glow of her screen. Further down, someone was staring blankly at the doors, like they had mentally checked out a few stops ago. Everyone looked different but it all felt the same. Headphones on, eyes down, moving from one place to the next as if it were automatic. 

The train feels like being in limbo; not bad or even stressful, just predictable. Like something to get through rather than something to actually experience. I remember thinking, ‘Is this what life is supposed to feel like?’I mean, life isn't necessarily worse than it used to be, just flatter. Now that everything is organised, optimised and totally perfectly efficient, it's lost the feeling behind it.

Maybe what could make these small moments feel full again isn't excitement, but attention. Nietzsche, for example, believed in saying yes to life, even in its randomness and imperfection; choosing to make the most of each second as the ‘perfect moment’ we all seem to be waiting for simply doesn’t exist. That being said, below are some of my small ways to stop moving through your day and start being inside of it.

I find that one of the easiest ways to feel more alive is to walk places that you don't need to. When you resist the mad rush, and stop constantly scanning apps for transit times, you allow yourself to just walk. Without all the usual noise and commotion, the walk from uni to Central takes a whole other light. In exchange for the couple of extra minutes it takes, I get to actually absorb the beautiful landscapes of Centennial Park; everything slows, the city quiets down, and in that moment when you're not trying to get anywhere, you really get to be there. 

Sometimes, I also like to leave the house without your earphones. When you just raw dog your day, you get to hear everything properly. The honk of the train pulling into Town Hall, bus drivers calling out the last stop, and the raucous laughter of highschoolers in Main library. It feels overstimulating at first, but after a while your attention shifts, and you begin to notice all the things you would’ve otherwise blocked out — the musician busking on George street, someone laughing too loudly outside Central, and a pigeon that's somehow made its way onto the light rail. When you take time to notice the world around you, the day starts to feel less like something you're rushing through and more like something you're inside of.

This could also look like noticing the people that make up our surroundings; even if its something small like complimenting a stranger. When you tell someone that you like their bag, or that their dog looks like it has strong opinions, most people aren't expecting it, so you get to see their unguarded confusion melt into a quick smile. And if you're feeling brave, let something slip by accident – tell the bus driver to have a good day, and say "love you" as you step off. And don’t worry, the bus driver has certainly heard worse. By the time the doors close, whether you're laughing to yourself or quietly cringing, you definitely won’t be on autopilot anymore.

Once this passivity is switched off, you become captivated by the universe of happenings that seem to go on and on, even when they otherwise wholly notice. This is just like the Parramatta River – you sit there for a while, you realise that the water never stops moving. Despite whatever stillness you may observe on the surface, it shifts and ripples constantly. Life’s magic depends on its mercurial nature; that even when no one is watching, something is always happening 

Making your life more lively starts simply, by letting your space feel like an actual place, not just somewhere you work or sleep. By opening your windows to let the natural light in. By cooking something without following a recipe exactly. And by letting conversations run longer than they need to. None of this is dramatic and that's the point. We don't seek out small moments of beauty or spontaneity because they're productive. We do it because it makes life feel like something more than a list of tasks. Adding whimsy isn't about changing everything, it's about changing how you interact with what's already there. 

Parul Taya is a second year student studying Civil Engineering. Her academic interests extend beyond her discipline to questions of gender, performance, and cultural identity. She is particularly engaged in the intersections between classic literature and contemporary culture. She cites Virginia Woolf as a formative influence on her approach to writing and thought.