How To Lead a Life Rich in Enjoyment
Søren Kierkegaard on the delight of people-watching
Happy Birthday, Soren Kierkegaard!
This weekend was the 210th birthday of Denmark's most famous philosopher, poet, satirist, and heartbreaker. Soren and his many alter egos have left a deeper impression upon me than any other writer to date. I am in good company, considering how Simone de Beauvoir, Jean Paul Sartre, Karl Barth, Albert Camus, Carl Rogers, and many others considered this contrarian literary warrior a prime influence. I take every chance I get to nudge my friends to glean from this rare mind.
His birthday was on the forefront of my mind since I just finished reading Walter Lowrie’s “A Short Life of Kierkegaard.” In the book, I found a passage from S.K. 's journal that demanded posting. Here is Kierkegaard on the benefits of attentiveness and the joys of living in a city:
“Precisely for this reason is life in this capital so entertaining to him who knows how to find in human beings a delight which is more enduring and yields bigger returns than getting a thousand men to acclaim one for half an hour…
He who is unwilling to undertake any enterprise might, nevertheless, if he had an open eye, lead a life rich in enjoyment, merely by paying attention to others; and he who has also his own work to do, would do well to take heed not to be too much imprisoned by it.
But how pitiful if there were many who miss what costs nothing, no entrance fee, no expense for banquets, no dues to one’s society, no inconvenience and trouble, what costs the rich and the poor equally little and yet is the richest enjoyment, who miss an instruction which is not obtained from a particular teacher but en passant from any person whatsoever, from conversation with someone unknown, from every accidental contact.
To “lead a life rich in enjoyment, merely by paying attention to others” might as well be the mission statement of Prolix.
Just the other day I was waiting for the train at the 66th Street station when I was lucky enough to observe a wonderfully entertaining scenario. A man of unknown origin had posted himself on the track-side of the turnstiles, speaking to everyone who approached from the opposite side. Before they had the opportunity to swipe their Metrocards, he would warn them that the turnstiles were broken and that the machine would take their money without letting them in. He kindly told them that they would need to jump it if they wanted to enter. No two parties had the same reaction to this Sphinxian figure. Some tourists were turned away, some NY natives jumped, and some children immediately ducked under the turnstiles with an eagerness betraying the indulgence of a long suppressed desire. It was comical, especially because nothing about the man gave the impression of insincerity. As I watched, even I was unsure of whether or not he was telling the truth - and no one was willing to challenge him. In the end, he left on a train and I watched with extreme curiosity as new passengers began to approach the turnstile. More than a few giggles escaped me as one by one the passengers entered the station unhampered. The turnstiles were fine. The man had just taken the riders for a ride.
This anecdote is probably trivial to some people. Had they been present, perhaps the amusement that comes from an Instagram Reel or a podcast would have been more desirable than being audience to this prankster’s antics. But as a firsthand witness to this silly game, I felt that kind of enrichment which Kierkegaard describes as the reward of keeping your eyes open towards others. Specifically, I felt a sense of gratitude that I think often accompanies close attentiveness to your immediate environment. Grateful for what? For being where I was. For the city that I live in. For the people who hopped the turnstile at the insistence of a stranger and for the stranger who amused himself by watching them do so. I was grateful to have been present, truly present, for something that will never occur again. “You had to be there” is typically an apology for a joke that doesn’t land. Yet in this situation, it is an unapologetic announcement of the delight I take in something so rare that it will never be witnessed again. If scarcity does drive up value (although, I am not sure it does), then the gift I received from this practical jokester is priceless.
This reminds me of another Kierkegaard quote, which I will use to close:
“When one has once fully entered the realm of love, the world — no matter how imperfect — becomes rich and beautiful, it consists solely of opportunities for love.”
This might not seem immediately connected to the prior thought, but I am testing a theory that true and honest observation, especially observation of others, inevitably produces feelings of affection. This is because nonjudgemental perception leads to insight, insight to understanding, understanding to compassion, and compassion… well, that can take you anywhere. An attentive life is one of endless possibility.
Let’s keep our eyes open and stay attentive to others this week.
With gratitude,
Bradley