Wonder

Reverb 10 Prompt (from Jeff Davis): How did you cultivate a sense of wonder in your life this year?

I walk to and from work every day. From my house to the office takes me about an hour, depending how late I’m running. If I leave the house at 7:30am, I can enjoy a leisurely stroll. This rarely happens, since I found out I can leave at 7:40am and still make it to work on time, if I haul ass the whole way and get lucky with traffic-light timing. I could sleep in much later and get home a lot earlier if I drove or took the bus, but my walks keep me sane.

Anyone who knows me (or reads my blog) knows about my leaf catching tradition. About ten years ago I was sitting on a rock in the middle of the Eno River here in central North Carolina. I had recently broken up with a woman whom I’d loved very much, and I was mourning the loss of that relationship. She and I had hiked the trails by the Eno countless times together. Sitting on that rock, the sound of the water rushing by put me in a peaceful meditative state. I felt a sense of openness and clarity much like the “most alive moment of the year” I wrote about yesterday. It was sometime in the fall, and the sky was full of floating leaves. I noticed one leaf in particular break free from a tree far from where I was sitting. It floated high in the sky, drifting slowly and unpredictably toward me. I watched intently as the leaf zigged and zagged its way over the river, and when it was about fifty feet from me I realized with a rush of anticipation that it might actually touch down very near to my rock, maybe even near enough that I could grab it. Before I could formulate a clear thought about it, the leaf quickly zigged left, zagged right, dipped down, floated up, and then dropped right in my lap. I was stunned for a moment, then positively filled with joy. I felt like I had just found my Golden Ticket. It was raining leaves that day, and I’m sure several leaves had already touched down on or near my rock, but nonetheless it seemed to me to be the most awesome thing in the world that this particular leaf, the one I’d had my eye on, found its way into my hands. I thought for a moment about keeping it, preserving it between the pages of whatever book was in my backpack, but instead I gave it a kiss and released it back into the breeze.

Every fall since then, I watch for falling leaves and resolve to catch at least one every season. This is not as easy as you might think, as leaves don’t always float right to you as you stroll to and from work everyday. Even if they do float within reach, they can be slippery little buggers. I did finally catch my first leaf back on November 1st. Up until then I had been on a mission every day during my commuting to make the annual grab. I’m sure I looked pretty insane at times, darting into the street or onto people’s front yards chasing down a potential catch. On days when the wind wouldn’t cooperate, I even resorted to chasing a few squirrels up trees in the hopes they might kick a leaf loose. It was all good sane fun, and I finally got my prize on a weekend stroll, while talking with my Mom on my cell phone, telling her all about my trip to DC the previous day for the Rally to Restore Sanity.

So yeah, my walks keep me sane and keep me in tune with a sense of wonder. Winter is looming now, and there aren’t many leaves that haven’t already found their way to the ground. I’ll keep walking though. Sometimes I’ll turn my walks into a formal meditation practice, bringing my attention to my breathing or to the sensations in my feet and legs whenever I notice I’m lost in thought. Sometimes a song idea will come to me, and I’ll spend the entire hour singing a melody line over and over again so that I won’t forget it. Most times I forget it anyway. But like leaves to the trees, that melody will come back around and, sooner or later, somehow, some way, find its way back to me.