001. Kurt Vonnegut's envelopes

We're supposed to be dancing animals. So why is no one dancing?

“We're here on Earth to fart around”

This is a quote from a famous PBS radio interview with American Writer Kurt Vonnegut¹. It’s one of my favourites.

I think about this interview and this particular quote often. Every now and then, it makes the rounds on social media, and you’ve probably come across it before - ironically, Vonnegut hated technology and if he was still alive, he would despise Instagram.

The interview itself is from 2005, a moment in time when social media and online shopping are increasingly becoming a part of our day to day, but apps, same-day delivery, and smartphones are yet to become engrained in the very fabric of our lives. It’s undeniable though that the world is changing, and not necessarily for the better.

The interview goes like this:

INTERVIEWER: There's a little sweet moment, I've got to say, in a very intense book-- your latest-- in which you're heading out the door and your wife says what are you doing? I think you say-- I'm getting-- I'm going to buy an envelope.

KURT VONNEGUT: Yeah.

INTERVIEWER: What happens then?

KURT VONNEGUT: Oh, she says well, you're not a poor man. You know, why don't you go online and buy a hundred envelopes and put them in the closet? And so I pretend not to hear her. And go out to get an envelope because I'm going to have a hell of a good time in the process of buying one envelope.

I meet a lot of people. And, see some great looking babes. And a fire engine goes by. And I give them the thumbs up. And, and ask a woman what kind of dog that is. And, and I don't know. The moral of the story is, is we're here on Earth to fart around.

And, of course, the computers will do us out of that. And, what the computer people don't realize, or they don't care, is we're dancing animals. You know, we love to move around. And, we're not supposed to dance at all anymore.

I find every single thing about his response brilliant. The babies. The dog. The fire engine. Being dancing animals. And, of course, being here to fart around. It’s quintessential Vonnegut: profound, yet playful and conversational.

Most importantly, it never fails to have an impact on me. Hopefully, you felt it too.

We’ve only got so many days on Earth and as much as I don’t think we should be counting the days, I also think a healthy dose of realism is essential to make sure we make the days count.

There will be days when amazing, life-changing things happen. Like the day your first child is born. The day you get the job you always wanted. The day you land in a country you always dreamed to visit. The day you meet the person you want to spend the rest of your life with and you just know. Days when you say “I love you” with unwavering certainty. Even better, days when you get “I love you too” as a response. There will be many days like these.

There will also be days full of terror and life-shattering events. Like the day you lose a parent. The day you get your heart broken and you don’t know how to go on. The day you lose everything to a fire. The day someone you trust betrays you. The day you, or someone you love, receive bad news from the doctor. There will also be many days like these.

But the truth is, the majority of our days in this world will be ordinary days. Days where nothing amazing or terrifying happens. I’m making a wild guess here, but I think they account for 98% of all the days we have. And it would be a shame not to make them special just because those days won’t become our next password.

We can’t live a full life unless we learn how to find beauty in the mundane and how to squeeze joy out of the most ordinary moments.

Isn’t it a great gift when someone is able to change the way we understand and experience the world through their work? This is what art is all about to me.

My envelope is a cup of coffee.

I love coffee and I have all the tools to make it myself at home, which I do sometimes - nice beans, filters, big mugs. It would save me a lot of money in the long run. But the $6 (welcome to Sydney) I spend every morning buying my oat latte is worth much more than just the cup of coffee itself. It’s the price I pay for the ritual that sets the tone for my entire day.

It includes a walk to my favourite cafe, where the cool dogs in my neighbourhood hang out in the morning (they bring their humans along, of course). Like Vonnegut, I ask their owners their names and what breed they are. I chat with the barista about silly things - the weather, the special coffee bean of the month, about her impeccable red lipstick. While I wait for the coffee, I choose a playlist to keep me company for the rest of the walk to work. I like to pretend it’s the soundtrack to the movie I’m starring in - because it is.

It’s the same with grocery shopping. I tried to automate the whole process by downloading the supermarket app, creating a recurring list, and having everything delivered to my doorstep at a selected time slot. It worked: I saved both time and money. And do you know what I wanted to do with all the free time I had on my hands?

I wanted to go out and buy my own damn groceries.

Turns out, one of my greatest joys in life is buying groceries. I freaking love it. I love getting coffee and a pastry on the way to the shops and thinking about what I’m going to buy once I get there. I love browsing the aisles and seeing what’s new in the spreads section (there’s always something new). I enjoy selecting my garlic bulbs and picking each mushroom that goes into the paper bag. I love the thrill of seeing my favourite yoghurt brand on special. I don’t even mind the inevitable realisation that I forgot to buy something essential, like milk (every single time) because that means I get to come back and do more groceries. Oh, and don’t even get me started on the farmer’s market. It’s like Disneyland to me.

My point is: it’s easy to optimise our whole lives using an app. But should we? How can we dance if we’re not out there, bumping into cute dogs and babies, being the protagonists of a movie that only we get to watch?

Once more, Vonnegut comes to our aid with a beautiful lesson:

“My Uncle Alex, who is up in Heaven now, one of the things he found objectionable about human beings was that they so rarely noticed it when times were sweet. We could be drinking lemonade in the shade of an apple tree in the summertime, and Uncle Alex would interrupt the conversation to say, "If this isn't nice, what is?"

So I hope that you will do the same for the rest of your lives. When things are going sweetly and peacefully, please pause a moment, and then say out loud, "If this isn't nice, what is?

Wherever you are in the world, I hope you too have a hell of a good time buying yourself an envelope. If this isn't nice, what is?

Love, Nat

Written in Paddington, Sydney.

1. If you’ve never read any of Vonnegut’s books, you can’t go wrong with Cat’s Cradle, Player Piano and “If This Isn't Nice, What Is? Advice for the Young” from where I got the last quote.