Pausing to Say WOW!

I recall a story about Noah Webster (of dictionary fame), who suddenly found himself one day in an embarrassing situation. He was caught kissing the maid in the kitchen pantry by none other than his wife.

“Why Noah!” she exclaimed. “I’m surprised!”

Always the semanticist, Noah replied, “No, my dear, you’re amazed. I’m surprised!”

No, I don’t know how they ever resolved that situation. And we all know that not every surprise is a happy incident. But I also know that I enjoy my life more when it’s punctuated by little surprises and, even more importantly, by happy moments of genuine amazement.

The poet Rumi once said, “Sell your cleverness and buy bewilderment.” Yes, bewilderment. Or buy wonder. Or an occasional dose of awe. 

One parent told about moving from a farmhouse into a new house in town. The children were delighted. Early the next morning, the 3 ½ -year-old ran into his parent’s bedroom to wake them up. He couldn’t wait to explore. Mommy dressed him and told him to play in the yard.

About 20 minutes later, he came running back. “Mommy, Mommy, everybody has doorbells - and they all work!"

Welcome to town. And as amazing as it seems, most of those doorbells really do work.

I’d like to get hold of some of his bewilderment and wonder. Life really can be amazing when we slow down enough to consider it.

Have you noticed? People are aching to enjoy life more. But it’s not too much to hope for to imagine that they can actually look forward to each day with genuine anticipation. Especially if they form the habit of looking for wonders everywhere they are. The world is full of amazing people and wondrous spectacles. 

I don’t want a day to pass without pausing at least once to say WOW.

--Steve Goodier

Image: flickr.com/Torbein Rønning

Lucky to See It Up Close

Marlin Perkins, long-time host of television’s “Wild Kingdom,” spent most of his life trying to put people on a first-name basis with animals. His wife Carol wanted to marry him so badly that she never let on that she did not fully share his passion for wildlife.

Soon after their marriage they went to central Africa. She tried valiantly not to complain during the long expedition, but one night she was exhausted. She said she wasn’t hungry and just wanted to go to bed. So she undressed and reached for her pillow, when out from underneath crawled a huge lizard that ran up her chest and down her arm.

Carol started to scream and couldn’t stop. She was so tired of being brave. Marlin came running, and after he saw that Carol wasn’t hurt, he put his arm around her and said, “Honey, think of how lucky you were to see him up close.”

I’m with Carol. I would find it difficult to appreciate the experience. But I still respect Marlin’s awe and enthusiasm for all things alive. He was able to marvel at the wonder of creatures and never lost his passion for animals. All living things, in their own way, were beautiful and splendid to this irrepressible lover of nature.

You may not choose to share your bed with a lizard, but do you find this world an exciting and wondrous place? Do you marvel at nature’s handiwork? Do you want to “see it up close”? Does a spectacular sunset, the smell of seawater, that first spring flower, or the soft fall of snow soothe your soul? In short, are you excited about life and this magnificent world in which we live?

One who stands in awe at the wonder of this world and universe is never without a sense of mystery. That amazing man Albert Einstein once said, “There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.” But only one is the way of joy.

--Steve Goodier

Image: flickr.com/Mauricio Ulloa

A Miracle Morning

I stumbled out the door of a mountain cabin where I was spending the weekend working with youth and their families at a rustic resort center. I had a 6:30 AM appointment to keep and squinted from the early autumn sun peeking over pine-blanketed mountaintops.
   
I was started by a voice behind me. “Today is a miracle!” I turned to find one of the teenagers following behind.
   
“How?” I asked her. It looked like it might be pleasantly warm later in the day. Otherwise, fairly ordinary. The word “miracle” seemed like an overstatement. Anyway, I wasn’t sure if I could handle much excitement this early in the morning.
   
“Think about it,” she smiled. “The sun rose, didn’t it?”
   
“Yeah.” I found it easy to hide any enthusiasm. It seemed to rise on every other morning without my getting involved.
   
“That’s a miracle! It is miraculous that the earth turns as it does. At night, the sun goes down and in the morning it rises. It just happens!”
   
I pretty much already had this figured out. I rubbed sleep from my eyes. I was also busy thinking about how to get a cup of coffee.
   
“And look at the mountains! Covered with trees and grass, they look so beautiful. And there,” she pointed, “a valley. It’s incredible.”
   
Was she always this perky? And shouldn't there be a rule against perkiness this early in the morning? Especially before coffee?
   
“Did you notice the wildflowers?” she continued. “It all smells so fresh and clean and so good.” She took a deep breath and I thought I might have caught a sparkle in her eyes. Though it may have also been a trick of the light. “All of nature receives water and sunlight and everything it needs. Things grow and blossom – it really is lovely.”

Now I started to worry. I thought I was actually coming around. Well, a little bit, anyway. Is perkiness contagious? I felt something stirring inside. Up until then I thought this was just an ordinary morning in the mountains. I didn't know what spell she was secretly weaving, but she had a point. It really was beautiful, even if there was nothing magic about it. 

Then, with a smile that gave her pronouncement a note of finality, she said, “And best of all, it will happen again tomorrow. And the next day. And the next!” Then she sighed. “See? It's a miracle morning.”

In her poem “Aurora Leigh,” Elizabeth Barrett Browning wrote:

    Earth's crammed with heaven,
    And every common bush afire with God:
    But only he who sees, takes off his shoes,
    The rest sit round it, and pluck blackberries...

Along the early morning path, my friend had removed her shoes. For her, earth was “crammed with heaven” and “every bush afire.” It wasn't just perkiness; she had eyes to see what I had completely missed. I was, as Browning might say, sitting around plucking blackberries.

I haven't seen that young woman for many years. She's grown up now. Maybe she has a family of her own. She's no doubt seen a good measure of heartache and trouble – who hasn't? But I would be surprised if she isn't basically a happy and contented person. Why? Because she discovered a valuable secret about happiness – she learned to find wonder in commonplace things and to feel gratitude for the ordinary. And life is nothing if not filled with the commonplace and ordinary.

After all, if a single morning can hold so much wonder for her, then a lifetime of mornings, not to mention evenings and everything in between, should keep her going through whatever life throws her way.

-- Steve Goodier

Image by Michel Mayerle

Can You Say, "Awe"?

Albert Einstein said that wonder is the source of all true art and all science. “He to whom this emotion is a stranger, who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead; his eyes are closed.”

I remember standing in rapt awe when I gazed upon the wonders of the ancient Incan city of Machu Picchu in Peru. That amazing city was built above the clouds, and it was more than the high altitude that took my breath away. Can you say, “Awe”?

I'm reminded of the little girl who rode a train with her mother. Looking out the window, she exclaimed, "Look! A horse!" And a moment later, "Look! Houses!"

She gave every indication of keeping this up, so her embarrassed mother apologized to the man next to her. "I'm sorry my daughter is going on like this," she said. "She still thinks everything is wonderful."

When do we stop thinking everything is wonderful? When we grow up? When do we stop saying, “Awe”? Does growing older mean growing jaded?

And must we travel to faraway places to marvel once again? Can't we experience wonder and awe today - this moment?

The slice of raisin toast I ate this morning was no less marvelous today than when I first tasted it. But I did not notice how good it really was. I think that few things are commonplace in themselves – it's our reaction to them that grows dull over the years.

A man on his way to lunch happened to notice a visitor in Venice’s Piazza San Marco standing among the pigeons and gazing in apparent rhapsody at the Doge’s Palace. After his meal he noticed the same man still studying the magnificent structure. Curious as to whether he’d been standing there all morning, he asked the man, “How long have you been here?”

“Twenty six years,” came the reply, “and I never grow tired of it.”

As Einstein observed, those who will “pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe” will TRULY LIVE. They will see what others miss. They will feel what others cannot. Life will be for them both exquisite and mysterious when they learn to say, "Awe."

-- Steve Goodier

Image: flickr.com/Parker Seybold

Touch of Wonder

Two little children, a boy and a girl, walked hand-in-hand to their neighbor's house. Standing on her tiptoes, the little girl was just able to reach the doorbell. A woman greeted them and asked what they wanted. "We're playing house," the little girl answered. "This is my hus­band and I am his wife. May we come in?

"Thoroughly enchanted by the scene con­fronting her, the lady said, "By all means, do come in."

Once inside, she offered the children lem­on­ade and cookies, which they graciously ac­cepted. When a second tall glass of lemonade was offered, the little girl refused by saying: "No thank you. We have to go now. My husband just wet his pants.

"I don't want to forget what it is like to be a child. To believe the world is full of magic, wonder and awe. I want to remember to take time for play and, just as important, to feed my imagination. The older I grow, the more it seems that ordinary events are now all too common­place and the extraordi­nary cannot hold my attention for long. I never want to be too old to be "awe-struck"!

Today, I want to rekindle that touch of won­der. It's part of being fully alive!

-- Steve Goodier

Image: freeimages.com/Chad Gore