Reflection
In Pursuit of Happiness
Lessons from slow living in a gap year
In any first world country, a gap year is a rite of passage. It’s a time for young, college-age kids to explore the world, broaden their horizons and collect a wealth of experiences.
In India, a gap year is what students take to prepare for highly competitive entrance exams to an education they’re not sure they want.
I took a gap year for neither of those reasons. You see, I already had secured an admission into a college that was coveted enough to ensure a cushy job; and far enough from my hometown that I could dream of freedom. In fact, I was counting down the days till I had to be on campus.
Only, when I went there, I realised I didn’t want it so much — or at all. Within a week, I was back home. It wasn’t an easy decision by any means. I interviewed for jobs and internships that I was as reluctant about as the degree I had dropped. In the time I was not interviewing, I was morosely hanging about my house, stressing over where I was going and what I planned to do with my life. One day, I’d finally had enough of my own self pity. Whether it was a sudden revelation or a trickle of realisations that had been building up, the cloud of anxiety finally parted. I had let my fear blind me to what I had right in front of me.
Don’t people dream of this? Hadn’t I dreamt of this? How many hobbies have you let go of, how many experiences have you said “maybe some day” to? And for what, to build a future you’re not sure you want? The whole notion seemed extremely silly.
So how does one go about getting to know oneself? Naturally, I began with a list.
I picked up reading again — something I had not done in nearly a year. I had always wanted to learn the violin so next day, I signed up for violin lessons. On weekends, I started to volunteer at a local shelter home where I helped kids with their education. I taught myself to sketch and paint again. I started spending quality time with my family and caught up with old friends again. When I wanted to do or learn something, I stopped delaying the decision and started pursuing it instead. All this gradually shifted ny focus from lamentations of the past and anxieties about the future to the sheer aliveness of my present. The mere performance started to become more important than the result.
The slower lifestyle forced me to confront doubts and self-critique that I’d have otherwise buried deep down. I learnt to listen to my instincts. The gap year gave me a sense of self-worth that was not the flimsy kind that came from external validation, but an enduring strength that grounded me. Taking the time to observe the world around me reminded me of my place within it and made me a happier and more grateful version of myself.
So often we think of ourselves as different from nature, perhaps because we’ve taken great pains to distance ourself from it, to undermine it, to overcome it. But don’t let that fool you into believing you’re any more or less ‘nature’ than that tree that reinvents itself every spring. Or that bee that makes nectar it knows not the value of. Or that mountain that stands unmoving, observing civilisations come and go. I had forgotten that my only responsibility was to create a life for myself that was more fulfilling than comfortable; that I had a right to exist whether I was a “productive asset” or not.
