Wonder of Wonders . . .
Remember the wonder of discovering a fish or a bird or a cat hidden in a picture, when you were a child? Or how the drawing of an urn became two faces — and then an urn again — depending on how you were looking at it.
The animals began appearing — the urn began transforming — when you were quiet enough, and open enough, to see with fresh eyes
One obviously stupendous event can spark this understanding. But even the simplest and most invisible connection can.
So can seeing someone or something “suddenly anew” we’ve been familiar with for years.
Something More
Decades ago, I searched the woods for birds to watch and listen to. But watching and listening weren’t enough for me. I wanted to know birds’ names and make lists of all the birds I came upon.
Even now, I remember how intense I was. My children likely remember, too, sad to say.
And the birds? Mostly, they stayed to themselves.
I’m not sure when I came to understand it wasn’t when I searched intensely that I caught sight of them but when, inside and out, I was still.
The more I sat quietly, the more they showed up — in clearings, my yard, on power lines. You name it — each, in itself, a wonder.
Something important was happening that would lead to something more, I sensed — but didn’t need to lead to something more, to “count.” Already, one bird’s well-being was mattering far more than a name on a list.
Oh, The Double-Take
I heard that a flock of Canada geese had landed in a field in my town. Every spring, I love to see Canada geese or at least hear news of them.
So, when I spotted one very long-necked Canada goose paddling, in sync, close beside one very short-necked mallard duck, oh the double-take. (Imagine those Mutt and Jeff necks highlighted brilliantly by sunbeams, and you’ll understand.)
What had brought this particular goose from its flock to paddle next to this particular duck, within a hundred feet of me?
I knew ducks and geese swam together . . . but like this?
Was the goose alright? Was the duck? How would they be when they no longer were within my field of vision?
What Wonder Does
We thrill at the sight of lush gardens, yet also can be taken by a single flower. Unlike awe, which is more sedate, that’s what wonder does — takes us away from ourselves.
Slowing enough to look at any life deeply — be it a snail, a tiny blossom, an old tree standing blemished and gnarled beside a creek (an old person bent, standing next to us) — not only can we feel we’re falling in love with this life, but that we’re praying for it. We’re becoming it and sense it’s becoming us as well.
A view doesn’t change, just our perspective of it. The sight of something that’s scared or repelled us, all our lives, suddenly can become wonder-full.
I discover a spider in a web I’m about to sweep from my shelf. The spider’s the size of the nail on my pinky finger. It drop-and-climb spins, twirls, skinny legs dancing — so filled with living. Down from the shelf on its lifeline, dangling in front of me, it’s undaunted by my breath.
Watching the spider, I understand how “hanging by a thread” feels.
I am the spider. Until its web is empty, I put away my broom.
Seeding Ourselves With Wonder
No one of prestige or great fortune could be luckier than we who tune to wonder every day and know the power of this thrilling thing we do.
A melody or painting captivates us and whisks us to a higher place. We watch a sculptor free a stunning face from stone. Each connection is so much more than the sum of its parts.
These tumultuous times, even a candle set straight on its plate stirs chords of beauty feelings.
Seeding ourselves with wonders — turning to any one of them again and again for comfort and courage and inspiration and light, we know our souls have found a way to beckon to us.
“God!” I say, breathing in the wonder of beach and rocks and islands minutes from my cabin-house. “God!”
Exactly.
This post was inspired by a section from my book, Caring In Remembered Ways: The Fruit of Seeing Deeply.
Both Caring In Remembered Ways and my website celebrate compassion as a way of life.
Other maggie s davis posts: Not Being Listened To Is A Loud Noise, All Our Trials, Crossing All The Borders (part 1)
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