As we approach finals and contend with an unhalting news cycle, it feels as though the world has turned sideways. In these slanted days, when my mind has grown heavy with noise and my body runs on instinct alone, I have felt the urge to reorient. By infusing my days with little rituals — gestures that slow my pace and ground me — I have been able to straighten my world once again.
In the opening chapters of Antoine de Saint-Exupéry’s “The Little Prince,” the narrator observes how when we mature, we lose our sense of wonder. “All grown-ups were once children – although few of them remember it,” he tells us. The question here isn’t one of age but of attitude. In falling victim to the urgency of routines, we forfeit our openness to spontaneity. We become overly attuned to what is immediate and measurable, as if time not filled is time squandered. That belief in the necessity of constant productivity is part of the problem.
Don’t get me wrong, this mindset can be necessary, as it propels us toward our goals and anchors us in motion. But when time is partitioned by deadlines and to-do lists, we leave ourselves no time for the diversions that bring us joy. Returning, if only momentarily, to childhood — a state of creativity and wonder — can offer a reprieve from the relentless demands of our routines at Brown.
In the early 20th century, when the world was rapidly modernizing, a group of eccentrics arose in Paris — the Surrealists. In 1924, André Breton concretized this artistic movement by publishing The Manifesto of Surrealism, a call to re-enchant the world. They sought not to escape from reality, but to elevate it into a dreamscape where wandering without purpose can lead to unimagined revelations or encountering an everyday object can reveal a kind of magic hidden in plain sight.
Their romantic belief in the marvelous hidden within the mundane is refreshing. For them, chance was not chaos but opportunity, and spontaneity was not frivolity but renewal. So, in the spirit of the Surrealists, I insist that in disconcerting times like today, it is essential to carve out space for small, yet intentional acts that reimagine the way we move through the world. As difficult a sacrifice as it may seem, making time for a sliver of dreaming can surprisingly disrupt the weight of routine. What this looks like will vary for each of us, as it’s a quiet, personal practice. I can’t prescribe it, but I can offer a glimpse of my own rituals, in the hope that they might serve as a starting point.
I always begin with my head tilted up towards the stars. I try, most days, to find the moon at least once. Noticing what’s above reminds me of worlds beyond my own, of other possibilities. It is a gentle relief, especially when my mind is heavy with the thoughts of approaching deadlines.
After hours spent sitting still, buried in my computer, I find that setting my body in motion can be quite restorative. When riding my bike, for instance, the landscape blurs and reshapes itself, and I remember that life can look different when you shift your approach. And sometimes, all it takes is a change in pace or a new rhythm to feel refreshed.
With movement comes breathing — another way to let go of the overburdened mind and find a path back into the grounding rhythms of the body. Lately, I’ve enjoyed afternoon walks as a way to watch the rebirth of spring in Providence.
And at the end of each day, I appreciate watching the sunset. It is the last of my tiny rituals that compels me to pause and look beyond myself. In moments like these, of looking outwards, I begin to find my way back.
Julia Barrozo ’26 can be reached at julia_barrozo_do_amaral@brown.edu. Please send responses to this column to letters@browndailyherald.com and other opinions to opinions@browndailyherald.com.
