Wonder

The first time I visited the Grand Canyon my mouth dropped open. My eyes widened in a huge stretch. A soft moan escaped my mouth. Ooh and aah were common. The nearby visitors had similar reactions. I have continued to have that reaction each time I’ve visited the canyon.

Many years later – decades really – I returned with Rocky in tow. I warned him he would be struck by what he saw. I let him out of the car, led him to a curbed walkway, and then let him approach the canyon’s rim through a thicket of trees. I wanted him to see it by himself without my presence.

His reaction was instant. He turned to find me on the other side of the trees and presented a face of wonder without words. He was in awe like me on the first time seeing the canyon.

Wonder. Complete and silent. Wordless.

I have had this reaction to different stimuli. Music is one. A finely written phrase or paragraph in a book. A thought that made my mind stop, think, and then rethink what I had assumed up until then. The plot twist or author’s observation on a common fact of life stunned me enough to look upon it freshly.

Music? Yes, a passage or theme that suddenly takes air from the lungs, stops breathing, brings tears to the eyes, a bit of tuneful magic that makes sense in a very special way. Perhaps you recall a similar experience? Mine has been in listening to specific composers and instruments. Sometimes it is piano alone, or an orchestra. The grip the music has on me is complete in that moment.

A scenic view that startles is a moment of wonder. The Vermillion Cliffs in Arizona are unusually high. The highway climbs and offers some overlooks. Once, I stopped and looked out at the vast desert to the west. A funny squiggly line was observable. I realized it was a road. Then I saw a movement, and realized it was a semitruck, tiny and almost unrecognizable. Realizing the distance from the truck was large and our altitude high, I was in wonder of the perspective. The huge space surrounding me. Wonder. Open mouthed awe.

Beautiful scenery along a winding New England road in the woods is another memory of wonder. So silent. So leafy. Shades of shade, some darker, some lighter. A woodland of wonder with dappled light so serene. How can this not cause wonder?

Giant mountains, too; they cause wonder – the Grand Tetons, the Sierra Nevada Range, the Rockies. All of these are sizes of wonder. Crags and peaks, snow and ice, rock and trees lower down. A gift of sight. Wonder prevails.

But thought brings wonder, too. The mind plays with ideas so delicate they seem out of mind. But there they are in full presentment. We toy with them for meanings basic and distant. The moods and temper of the words of those thoughts are broad and variable. Constantly moving as we wonder at their meaning. So finely tuned are they that different meanings emerge. Like masterful poetry, familiar words used differently mean many different things.

The mind wanders. Then it wonders. Like the first sight of the Grand Canyon, the mind delights in its amusement and creation of what is surprisingly meaningful.

We have much to be grateful for.

August 2, 2024