I don’t think people sit down on benches enough.
I think there’s a variety of reasons for this. For one, most of the campus community has somewhere to be. Classes. Labs. Office hours. Lots of things are going on. It would be unhealthy if there was no movement on its sidewalks. If the University were an organism, we’d be the blood; we course through its walkways, enter its buildings, and cycle in and out in a giant circulatory system of sun-bleached concrete.
But unlike blood cells, we happen to be sentient. You happen to be sentient. Whereas blood pumps because it is forced by pressure from the heart, you can choose to opt out of that responsibility. What better way to revolt than to do nothing for five minutes?
I get to sit on benches a lot. I know a lot about the bench world. I promise you, I do. I like to sit on benches when I’m smoking. I do this frequently.
Some of the benches here have names on them. I won’t lie, I don’t think a lot of those names matter. (Maybe they do, but they’re not relevant to what’s being discussed here.) What matters is the actual benches they are situated upon. The weather is beginning to warm up. The sun is not shy anymore. In these coming weeks, I encourage you to look at one of the benches you walk past every day. If you listen to it— I mean really listen— you’ll hear it beckoning. It would tell you, “Come on man, take a seat, you look tired, and I’d love to help.” So entertain its calls.
I think you’ll find that sitting on a bench for a couple of minutes is an excellent way to burn some excess time. It grants you an opportunity to think to yourself. You’d find that you have a chance to breathe, to photosynthesize; really, you get a chance to put a pause on things. I think you could use that. I certainly did.
There are rules to the act of sitting on a bench. They’re simple rules, but they’re rules nonetheless. Break them, sure, but that would mean overcomplicating the process. I don’t think you want that.
When sitting on a bench, get comfortable. You can do this however you want. Then, take in the scenery. If there’s wind, let it blow past you. If there are trees, watch their branches oscillate. If there are clouds, witness their commute in the sky. Once you let the surroundings sink in, start observing the people that walk past you. Watch how they walk; watch their gait, their foot placement, their supination. I like to listen for the occasional shuffler. You can also listen to how people talk, or see if they make eye contact with you when they walk past. Whether or not you decide to lock eyes is up to you. If you’re smoking something, time your pulls, and exhale only when people are not walking past you. Don’t blow smoke at somebody walking past you. You’re not a jerk.
You could also sit on the bench and think. Thinking is a great thing. It’s a lot like the digestion process in that you masticate and process any ideas, feelings, or occurrences that have happened to you. Sometimes it’s a little uncomfortable. Other times it’s relieving, and refreshing. Sometimes you don’t even cook up any thoughts and you’re just sitting there. What matters is the effort. You’re taking time to unwind a little bit, to cool off.
The world you and I live in is a very active one. People don’t stop. There are some who never stop, and when they do, they think it’s a bad thing. They can’t help it. They don’t know anything besides moving.
It’s a good thing that’s not you. You’re a bench-sitter, after all.
