Wonder

Wonder. It’s a fascinating word filled with so many emotions all at once: a feeling of surprise mingled with admiration, caused by something beautiful, unexpected, unfamiliar, or inexplicable. And I use that word. A lot.

I wonder how they design those wind turbines.

I wonder if the native elk are in pain when they shed their antlers.

I wonder how much these words actually matter.

The use of that word, wonder, in verb form, expresses a sense of curiosity. But it also induces (in the background) that inexplicable fascination with something beautiful, whether it be something we immerse ourselves in with the five senses, or knowledge gained in our minds. And even when we don’t use that particular word, the sentiments remain there. Case in point, this is an entry I posted in an old blog more than ten years ago…

We live in a frenetic and fast paced world. Regardless of what anyone tells you, however, the laws of physics still prevail and we all have 24 hours at our disposal each day. How we choose to spend that time is our own free choice. We are all on the highway of life. Some of us are riding that highway traveling at what seems like the speed of light. We zip from one appointment to another at hyper-speed and check off items on our to-do list as if that is the ultimate goal in life. Although it is cliché, we fail to stop and smell the roses.

In the Pixar movie Cars, there is a great scene where Sally and Lightning McQueen are overlooking Route 66 and Interstate 40:

Sally: Forty years ago, that interstate down there didn’t exist.

Lightning McQueen: Really?

Sally: Yeah. Back then, cars came across the country a whole different way.

Lightning McQueen: How do you mean?

Sally: Well, the road didn’t cut through the land like that interstate. It moved with the land, it rose, it fell, it curved. Cars didn’t drive on it to make great time. They drove on it to have a great time.

We are the cars. Our lives are the roads. We can choose to take the interstate and set our lives on cruise control. However, we are at the risk of missing so much pass us by because we travel so fast with our blinders on. We are more concerned with where we are going instead of appreciating and enjoying where we are.

There is an alternative. We can choose to meander and explore. We can choose to take the winding and curving road and truly experience life. It may not take us directly to our destination, but perhaps we shouldn’t be as concerned with crossing the finish line so quickly. Isn’t it really the happenings along our route that make reaching our goal so much more gratifying?

I love to read. I love being drawn into a book. I love feeling as though I have become a part of the story and empathically share highs and lows with the main character. Ironically, the books that have resonated with me the most are those that involve a journey. These journeys are most often about self-discovery and intentionally take a circuitous route. They involve encounters with other people that provide insight into our own voyage and how we can add meaning to our life.

We are all on our own individual journey down a unique path. Some of us are on highways while some of us are on back-country roads. Sometimes our paths run parallel to one another and sometimes our path intersects with that of others. We are in control of the accelerator pedal beneath our feet. We can choose to fly through life and pass by others on the interstate. Or, we can choose to take the scenic route, slow down to the speed of life, and share our road with others. We can choose to take the occasional pit stop and learn about all the other roads available to us on the map of life.

Life is a journey, not a destination. Slow down, check your road map, and get off the next exit. There is a winding road ahead that is ready to greet you with new experiences. Make your journey as memorable as possible.

So, after spending a week in the Rocky Mountain National Park with my son, it was truly eye-opening to see the variety of curvy roads (metaphorical and literal) and climates we were able to experience in such a short span. We saw waterfalls, deserts, and tundra. We had encounters with yellow-bellied marmots, elk, and too many chipmunks to count. We made an impromptu trip into the park well after dark and witnessed the Milky Way carving a path across the sky (along with several meteors). We inhaled the scent of fresh evergreen trees and cow dung, and in some inexplicable way, both stimulated the senses in a compelling way. We truly slowed down to the speed of life. There was no rush to get anywhere. There was no push to do certain things by a particular time. We allowed ourselves the opportunity to engage with life at the speed Mother Nature had laid out for us.

That’s why my son’s comment after we began to head back home really hit home. It feels really weird to be driving at 55 mph again. We hadn’t done so for the entirety of our time in the mountains. Aside from the fact we physically couldn’t travel that fast on those winding roads, we wouldn’t have wanted to. There was something wonderful about slowing down to the speed of life. And the recognition that we weren’t required to go any faster after all was said and done induced that sense of wonder in both verb and noun form. And that was inexplicably beautiful, indeed.

---

Would you like to connect with Dave and learn more about his daily thoughts and life as an author? Join his community, receive a free copy of his Pigeon Grove prequel novella, Fly Away Home, and be the first to share a sip of caffeine for the soul each month!