On more than one occasion, I’ve pondered the value of the ordinary things of everyday life: routines at home, at work, on weekends… There are also life’s stellar moments. These are trips to beautiful places, outings to dazzling spaces, family and professional events surrounded by pomp, like Cinderella’s gala party. The usual, however, usually passes without fireworks or standing ovations. These are the cold or hot dawns, clear skies or overcast with gray clouds, hard and sustained work awaiting the Friday of rest. Weeks written in simple prose, with their small joys, worries, and scares; biographies—intertwined with one another—lived in large or small cities, with little or no comfort, amidst the din of modernity or far from the madding crowd.

Of the many scenes of everyday life, in their rhythmic unfolding, it can be said that they are neither out of this world nor special. Simple scenes, without glamour, without the exciting ingredient of great events or dizzying experiences. Given that more of our lives than usual are spent their time on these tracks, the art of happy living occupies an essential place among the capabilities of human beings. It is in our hands to turn simple pumpkins into a party car. If King Midas turned whatever he touched into gold, it is up to each of us to give special importance to the simple things in life. Even the sorrows of the day, with their burdens and tears, can give way to new scenes with their drops of joy, even if the pain persists. The faces of the Sorrowful Mothers are an image of serenity and suffering that, with the help of Grace, make the path easier for travelers.

Iris Murdoch writes a short story,  Something Out of This World (Impedimenta, 2024), in which she recreates the counterpoint of the ordinary with the stellar. Yvonne—Irish, 24—is in a relationship with Sam, a tailor’s clerk. Her uncles encourage her to marry him. Her response is negative. She sees “nothing out of this world” in her boyfriend. She seeks bustle, fun, and lights; he is rather conventional in his tastes, bordering on boring. Sitting and gazing at the sea is not for her. On one of their outings, after a few altercations in a bar, he takes her to see a fallen tree, gnawed by insects—a wonderful sight for Sam; for Yvonne, something horrifying, nothing out of this world.

A thought-provoking story with several interpretations. Life’s crossroads where dreams and reality meet. What should we do? Yvonne has the desired dizzying experiences with unhappy endings; there’s also Sam, in whom she sees nothing special. She decides to marry him. Perhaps she has realized that it is possible to be happy—with that happiness of chiaroscuro characteristic of the human condition—amid the ordinary things of life. How will they fare? I don’t know. López Quintás throws out a lifeline and says: “The happiness or misfortune of a human being depends on the basic attitude they adopt in life.” An attitude of gratitude toward life sharpens what they have in hand. What they receive, whatever little or much they have, is a gift, something more than expected. On the other hand, those who adopt a presumptuous attitude don’t expect or give thanks, they demand. Their usual complaint will be: “I want to be happy, and others won’t let me, denying me what I deserve.” Such an attitude leads to anger and bitterness.

The existential art of good living knows how to polish the daily prose of the bright mornings and the bad nights of the human soul, an art that is truly something out of this world.