Have you ever had these moments where you suddenly think: How did I end up in this moment in space and time? How did I get here? I had such a moment this week. On Wednesday night, I found myself on a riverboat, in the middle of the Netherlands, doing a brainstorm, at a Turkish wedding. No, I do not do alcohol, nor do I experiment with psychotropic substances.

But that wasn’t even the strangest thing, because as much as this scene was even too weird for a Tarantino movie, everything did fall into place somehow. What we were doing, how people were responding, how everyone picked up on what was going on, fitted that moment like a glove.

Finding myself there and then, however, did make it abundantly clear why I couldn’t answer that question I was asked when I was seven: “So what do you want to be when you grow up?”
Every other boy in my classroom knew exactly what he wanted out of life. I can remember them saying they wanted to become a famous football player, a buss driver, a cheese shop owner – OK, granted, that too is a weird idea when you’re seven – but I, I didn’t have a clue.
If I had answered I wanted to do a brainstorm at 3:00 AM, on a riverboat, in the middle of the Netherlands, during a Turkish wedding…that probably would have meant medication and therapy.
Come to think of it, if my children are asked what daddy does for a living and they answer that question truthfully, we just might get an invitation from the school counselling services to have a word with them. I’d better be prepared.

To be honest, so far I’ve had several moments like the one I just had on the riverboat. For example. When I was a journalist, at one point, I found myself in the middle of the Sudan, during a terrible famine, two and a half flight hours away from the first signs of civilisation, in total awe of the starlit night, with the soundblaster of a Ethiopian aid worker from a Swedish NGO, playing “Vincent”, horrendously covered by Julio Iglesias. How totally mental is that?

But as crazy as they may seem, these moments do reveal this entire world behind people and places we often do not have the faintest clue about. We just don’t. And the funny thing is that you really don’t have to find yourself in a different country under extreme circumstances to come across special people, unique places and extraordinary circumstances. The extent of weirdness of a situation just makes those hidden lives easier to spot, that’s all. The trick is to notice them, value them and consciously and truthfully partake in the moment.

But how do we notice the extraordinary in ordinary things? How do we remain in the moment, every single moment? How do we keep seeing that beautiful weirdness of where we are and with whom, without it having to involve a Sudanese soundblaster or Turkish wedding on water?

The real merit of a creative life isn’t the ability to have your self end up in exotic places and run into remarkable people in colourful circumstances. That’s just a nice perk. It’s far more about staying right here, doing whatever it is that you do and discover the exotic, the remarkable and colour in everyday life, right under your nose.

Next week, I’m restarting the weekly check-ins I used to do during Q1. They help me to stay focussed. They help me to stay here and now. They help me notice the wonder in everyday life. After all, it’s right here where I want to suddenly think: “How did I end up in this moment in space and time? How did I get here?” No matter where here is.

What if we could live in that feeling every single day?
Wouldn’t that be something?

Take care,
Karl

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