On Wonder

            At rare moments, some ordinary thing catches our attention in such a way that it strikes us as completely novel and unusual; despite its commonness and our previous disregard for it, we abruptly discover it to be absolutely fascinating, and we pause to ponder at it in awe.  I treasure these almost surreal moments when I cease to take reality for granted and glimpse its true wonder.  

I’ve marveled during various times at the way rain falls so far yet lands so softly, at the way eggs grow into stiff white peaks when beaten, and at they way they help hold baked goods together—what genius or accident first added eggs to dough, anyway?  I’ve been captivated by the form of an infant, and the conception and growth of such a tiny, complex new life.  I’ve spent time reveling in the sensation of memory foam under my hand and sand between my toes.  I’ve admired the way hair isn’t all one color and how that color changes depending on light and dampness.  And toilet paper!  What an odd but useful concept. Consider erasers—wow!  

However, much is so beyond our comprehension that excessive reflection, rather than deepening our appreciation or revealing explanatory data, may make the wondrous seem insensible or ridiculous.  For instance, I recall a time waiting with friends during a particularly long Nutcracker ballet rehearsal when one of us commented how peculiar the word “the” is.  Its shape, its sound, its usage—our close examination of its oddities soon rendered it humorously absurd, and ever after, one of us would only have to whisper “the” to make the rest of us crack up.  Later, as an English major and now as a writing tutor, the word “the” has gained more meaning, yet it still seems peculiar and never ceases to intrigue me when I take the time to consider its existence and function.

As with the word “the,” education and understanding can’t quantify or mitigate wonder; only self-centeredness tries to do that.  Rather, a learned understanding of wondrous phenomenon may deepen our appreciation of its mysteries and majesty.  For example, even understanding the scientific explanation for phenomena like sunsets, what person with functional eyes doesn’t find them beautiful and feel amazed how the colors change and how the clouds texture and alter the shades?

Image courtesy of a Google search and hdw.eweb4.com

Regrettably, these moments of captivating clarity I’ve described occur with relative infrequency.  I suspect we tune out so many of the world’s wonders because we can only handle so much of it at a time.  Wonder widens our perspective and takes us beyond our Selves, breaking our illusion of control over our world.  This can frighten us, making us feel small and vulnerable.  Remembering this, it seems less peculiar, if no less sad, that some people avoid contemplating wonderful things.  

Realizations of wonder may also come infrequently since our minds must prioritize the basics: food, shelter, comfort, safety... Imagine if someone fleeing a hungry bear stopped dead to stare at ivy creeping up an oak and think, “how interesting!” and if when feeling a flash of pain thought only, “what a fascinating sensation!  I don’t enjoy this, but it’s so amazing, I want to explore it some more.”  Humanity would quickly become extinct!  

Too much wonder, too regularly, and we might also take this world and life more for granted than we do already.  Thus, on the whole, I suspect it’s good that we only get “sneak peeks” into the universe’s endless wonder.  These peeks are gifts that keep life interesting and that stir a longing in us for something beyond the mundane.  When you receive such a gift—a glimpse into the glory of the world’s Creator—do you pause to praise Him?

Do I, always?