How an Excruciatingly Long Commute Transformed My Life

I spent 4 hours every day commuting. Looking back, it became the impetus for my personal growth in ways I didn’t expect.

The luxury of a quick stroll to work is something we all wish for. But in reality, for most of us, work ends up being far away from home. Sometimes far enough to steal significant precious hours that could have otherwise been spent with family, friends or simply, teaching yourself a new skill, guitar perhaps. This was how I viewed the long commute to my first job, a long dull dismal activity that stole life from me. But little did I know then that it would slowly teach me things that I didn’t know of or fully comprehend.

The first three years of my professional life, I would go on to spend 4 long hours every day in commute to work as a proud Software Engineer, a job that I had wanted and loved nonetheless. The commute was mostly pleasant, a well maintained public transport bus, although, every little detail grew to become important — where I sat, what music I listened to, the ventilation, and most of all — the view to look out into the streets, each one going about their life, some may be with achy backs like me, but still waiting patiently at the lights, one after the other — all just craving to get home.

Music

To any commuter, music is a lifeline. You put on your headphones and you are instantly taken to a safe place, away from all the noise and the chaos surrounding you. But this lifeline to me went on to become a catalyst for a skill I did not know I was developing — a musical ear to “deeply” listen.

At this point, I should interject and tell you that I’m a musician, a bedroom one at least back then. Day after day, I would hop onto the bus, turn on my perfectly curated playlists, handpicked with all my favourite artist’s songs in it. But what I did more often was pick songs that I wanted to play on the guitar.

Sitting by a window seat in the bus for hours together didn’t give anyone that many options. It seemed to create what I now realize, a unique atmosphere for super-focus. You could take anything you did and be 10 times more focussed. In my case, I listened. Listened deeply to music, what else could I do?

I would listen to every beat, the various notes in the chord, the sound of the backing vocals and all the little intricacies of music. I would hear faint chimes that I’d never heard before on a track I knew too well. It played out in my ears, in my head, with almost no conscious effort from me — the indulgence was mystical. It was a soothing process, one that enriched me as a musician, teaching me something so subtle, yet so special that its existence was unknown to me.

The value of little things

We all learn the value of the little things in life at different junctions and in different ways. Unlike other realizations in life, appraising the ‘little things’ come at a price. We tend to only see them when we don’t have it anymore. But if you’re lucky, a unique experience, read or lived, could display it to you — bold, bright, in full colour.

In my case, it was my lonely journey in the bus through roads that were always busy, yet so lifeless. The longing and the wait made me miss. I missed home, missed dinner, missed all the impromptu plans that people made.

It wasn’t the important birthday parties or the grand weddings that I missed, I could plan for those, they were engraved precisely on calendars. It was the little things, they didn’t live on calendars or reminders but were yet so special and full of life. To me, it was dinner with my family. Never missed them and would risk even losing the job if it meant missing the dinner. I realized that if I couldn't get home for that dinner — the only time in the day where we sat together and shared our stories, everything became meaningless.

Of course, like all things in life, it wasn’t perfect. I did miss it occasionally, mostly it was the traffic that was to blame. But learning to put those little things above my professional life came out of that dark lifeless commute, sitting next to the window, mindlessly looking at my phone, longing to get home, in what then seemed like an eternity.

Learning to become a deep thinker, introspection

For me, introspection always manifested out of a cause. That is, I’d only care to introspect after I noticed a misalignment — in life, work or relationships, but it always came after.

It was only during this chapter of life that I learnt to think deeply. Like all other things, this too was a gift of the commute. Confined within the bus, watching the city lights dim and disappear into the night sky, your mind gets to work. It does it at ease, requiring almost no effort from you, from one thought to another, full of precision, like clockwork.

That commute and alienation, what I now realize, became the perfect moment to reflect on life. It was a chance for my mind to become more self-aware. Wandering — “Why did it work? Why did it not work? Do I like my job? Are my parents happy? Why did we break up?”, just an endless array of thoughts.

The thoughts came in two different packages though. The ones in the mornings had a different agenda to the ones at night. The Morning ones, because of the build-up to work and bright sunlight glaring my window, seemed to be about the world right outside, the politics, society, work, professional life, growth and development. The nights, however, were my favourite — the ones I tended to shy away from. It was all about the metaphysics of love, relationships, the lack thereof, happiness, family, the little things. Things that define you.

I learnt that this introspection was a priceless thing, not when done after a cause, but when done regularly; constantly assessing what you are becoming and raising your self-awareness. A continuous process of healing and elevating your mind.

As they say, you never truly appreciate things in life until they go missing. Today, my daily commute is just 15 mins, probably fitting what I’d wished for back then. But to my disappointment now, I don’t listen to music the same way anymore. Sometimes, I even forget to carry my headphones. And the introspection has fully diminished. As a substitute, I occasionally grab a coffee in solitude, but it’s not the same anymore.

It’s almost as if all these things have slipped away from me — the amazing things I didn’t know had built itself over those years — brick by brick, in an excruciatingly long commute no less. And with that, I’ve now come to strangely miss a commute that I once despised to the bone. Bus route 570, to Siruseri IT Park.