Wonder. It's one of those funny things that some people always seem to have and others wouldn't recognize if it gave them a concussion. If you have an open heart and an open mind you probably have a sense of wonder, but no matter your resilience sometimes life has a funny way of running you around so much you begin to tire. Eventually, despite your best efforts, you find yourself lost.
This is how I felt last year and a great deal of this year as well. One too many blows and your shell begins to thicken. Local anesthesia for that four-chambered pump inside your chest. You feel less and although that protects you from all the hurt, it also makes it tougher for love, compassion and of course, wonder to get through.
I've always been one of those people most probably view as naive. We ooh and ahh over small unexpected pleasures, grin open-mouthed at the sky during fireworks displays, relish tiny victories with a happy dance and savor all the small and large wonders of the world much like a child does. But the truth is, we don't miss a beat because we see the world clearly and don't discount anything. With horror, I realized earlier this year that after so much time trying not to feel the ache of last year's injuries, I had lost a lot of my wonder and perspective. I no longer noticed, or cared, for the small details that once had given me a humble kind of bliss that was impossible to ignore.
That piece of my brain, the piece where I cultivated fun, love, wonder, was covered up by the armor I had put on in April last year. After an extended period of gray skies and knew I had to shock myself out of it. This summer I rode a jet ski for the first time, at 60 MPH across a choppy lake in Michigan. I watched fireflies come to life in the twilight. I backpacked so hard I thought I was going to be sick, slept under the stars to watch the sun rise over Lake Aloha, and enjoyed fresh trout with apple pancakes and bacon overlooking the wind-swept mountainsides of Desolation.
I started a business and worked my way to success, shooting in sun, twilight, rain, snow. I had a long list of new travels that helped defibrillate my spirit. I joined the cast of Star Follies, a fundraiser for Incline's schools, and danced my way through the pain. So many selfless, fun-loving people in one place, plus the initial shock of performing on-stage for the first time since...first grade? helped pull me out of my funk and heal my heart. Once that barrier toppled, the mind was quick to follow.
Yep, wonder is a funny thing. I was an incredibly shy kid. I had to save myself this year by living outside my narrow comfort zone, surprising and scaring myself, learning that if I just leaped I'd have experiences I thought were always meant for others who were braver than I. It wasn't until I was stronger than before and complete once again that wonder returned to my life. And believe me, this time I super-glued it into place. It's here to stay. (Kole sere...)
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