By Gerardine Syquia
Discovering Beauty in the Ordinary
In the constant pursuit of excellence, it is easy to lose sight of what truly matters most.
There are mornings when the alarm rings, and before I even open my eyes, I have already felt the weight of the day that has not even happened yet. My body is awake, but my mind is tired. My heart feels heavy, and I still manage to stand up. I fix my bed. I brush my teeth. I move.
I believe that students and faculty alike are very familiar with this routine. We wake ourselves up every morning, attend every discussion, juggle deadlines, compete silently, and carry a pressure that seems hard to detach from. We move through our days on autopilot that the present becomes just as blurry as our future.
It’s strange. I have become an expert at getting up every morning, yet deep down, I still feel lost as if something meaningful is missing.
Getting out of bed to do work is something I have learned to do well. Rising for life, however, maybe requires another kind of strength. It is that strength, that discipline of choosing what fills life with beauty, that I have quietly forgotten.
The Kind of Discipline That Challenges Me
I often see discipline as a set of rules I tell myself to follow: waking up early to study, poring over my assignments even while I eat my meals, and refusing to rest because resting is wasting time.
Still, I continue to do this–to work so hard every single day–because I find myself always craving that adrenaline rush when I experience astounding achievements. I’ve romanticized the idea that achievements and success will bring me that lasting happiness I long for because I often attach the meaning of my existence to extraordinariness.
The problem is that, in this pursuit of excellence, I tend to forget the quiet things that also make life worth living. There comes a subtle ache when I realize I have missed a moment with a friend, my family, or even myself. It reminds me that achievement and success alone cannot sustain me or give me true and lasting happiness.
A Personal Turning Point
One Friday evening, after a long and dreadful week of classes, our family had a movie night. I remember sitting beside them, laughing together about something very silly on TV. At that moment, I could not even remember the last time I spent time with them without worrying about academics or planning what to study after the movie.
It was then that I realized another version of myself I had been building. I had been building myself into the hardworking student–the achiever who could never afford to fall behind–and without noticing, that version slowly swallowed the original version of myself that loved, rested, visited God in the chapel at school, and existed as a person beyond my grades.
I felt unhappy. Not because of my grades, but because I had stopped choosing the things that filled my life with purpose and meaning.
The Beauty I Forget to Choose
Beauty doesn’t come from huge moments, it doesn’t shout at us. Instead, it whispers from the smallest, quietest things. In Chapter 11 of Dynamic Transcendentals, Ramos (2012) writes that, for Aristotle, beauty restores us to ourselves, describing how a person “returns to himself” and comes to “a more adequate understanding of his own existence.”
Beauty looks like my mom preparing my school lunch early in the morning, my dad calling me to sit and spend time with him even when he’s tired from work, the sound of raindrops tapping my windows, the warmth of a cup of tea early in the morning, or even the quiet peace that comes when I curl up in my cozy blanket and talk to God about my day and how grateful I am for each blessing He has given.
It is in these small and quiet moments that often go unnoticed that I find myself surrounded by the happiness I had been longing for, rooted in the ordinary. Beauty has never been missing from my life; it is present all around me in every little detail. I just have to choose to take my time and look close enough.
Choosing Beauty by Slowing Down and Shifting Perspective
Beauty is like learning to consistently fry a sunny side up egg for breakfast. We have to put the oil on the pan first, wait for it to heat properly, crack the egg carefully, and pay attention as it cooks–because if we don’t, we miss out on the best part. Experiencing the beauty in life requires that same effort: the willingness to notice, pay attention, and take action.
Beyond lessons and discussions lies another discipline: choosing a way of seeing that allows the good to emerge.
Perspective is everything; it is key. Instead of asking, “Why does this have to happen to me?” I noticed we can learn to shift our perspective to, “What is this experience teaching me?” We’ve been given many blessings from God, and one of them is the ability to see beauty everywhere and to discover meaning for ourselves. Every thought, every action, every feeling, and every perspective is uniquely ours. Therefore, it is through these ordinary moments that we discover who we truly are. When we fixate only on what we have not accomplished, we risk overlooking these ordinary moments which is the very essence of ourselves.
In a world that idolizes busyness, it’s easy to get caught up in the daily grind. But by intentionally slowing down and shifting my perspective, I am able to focus on the things that matter most. I still experience thoughts of guilt when I am not working enough, but I’ve begun to notice the little things.
Whether it is spending a lazy Saturday morning watching my favorite shows, lying down in bed listening to music, or taking the time to eat my meals without distractions, slowing down lets me see the world through different lens—one that allows me to truly appreciate the richness of my life in a way that the constant grind often hides.
What We Truly Rise for
We rise every day for so many reasons: school, requirements, expectations, pressure, fear of not being the best, or simply by habit. But as students, maybe we need to ask ourselves who we are rising as.
The disciplined, hardworking achiever?
Yes, sometimes.
But also the daughter, the son, the friend, the believer, the human being who deserves to live a life filled with moments of beauty to be cherished.
As 2026 begins, I find myself genuinely excited, as the new year offers me a chance to change how I approach my relationships, my responsibilities, and my faith. The homily during the night of Christmas Eve touched my heart, teaching me that all the preparations, happiness, and gifts I receive during the Christmas season would be meaningless and would lose its true meaning if they do not transform me into a better daughter, a better student, a better believer, and a better person than the year before. Perhaps each year must be a year of transformation. This will definitely not be easy as I am still in my formative years, still learning, growing, and maturing. Yet that is precisely why I must be intentional about the person I am becoming.
Looking back on 2025, I realize that my greatest regrets are not the grades and achievements I failed to reach, but the precious time I lost with those whom I love. I lost opportunities to share simple joys: having small conversations with my family about their lives, having a movie marathon, a device free evening, family walks, visiting my lola and lolas willingly, and simply being present.
The clock at home never stopped ticking and that is the scariest truth of growing up. I assumed that life at home would somehow pause while I pursue my achievements, not realizing that those who raised me, watched me grow, nurtured my faith, and gave me one of the purest forms of love, also have a clock that keeps ticking for them, too.
We only get one shot at life.
Beyond my family, I also missed out on the beauty found in catching up with God through prayer, feeling the warmth of my friends’ smiles, my dog’s happy tongue greeting me every morning, the peace of nature around me as I walk to school, and the stillness that I experience every night after prayer that invites reflection and gratitude.
By discovering beauty in the ordinary, I’ve come to realize that life is about relationships and presence. Success may bring moments of happiness, but that will always be temporary. True happiness isn’t something to chase–it is something we nurture in the here and now, because no amount of achievement can ever replace the value of time spent with those whom I love dearly and the ordinary moments of beauty that make life worth living.
Reference:
Ramos, A. M. (2012). Dynamic transcendentals: Truth, Goodness, and Beauty from a Thomistic Perspective. Catholic University of America Press.
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