Touched by Wonder

"Much of  the suffering we face has the purpose of leading us back to wonder."  Unknown

Many years ago someone told me something that she often told herself: "I will not should on myself today."  My wife and I have adopted that idea as our very own.  But we comment from time to time that there are, in fact, some things that we "should" do.  If you think about it, whereas it is very healthy to not fill our days with unwanted obligations, our day may need to include things that are a necessary and helpful to ourselves and other people. Some "shoulds" are good things.

So in the spirit of things that you "should" do, there are three books that you "should" read. Pilgrim at Tinker Creek by Annie Dillard, Walden by Henry David Thoreau and A Touch of Wonder by Arthur Gordon.  I have read them all more than once. The three books are similar in very many ways, but each one is unique. Each one describes the transcendent effects of solitude and wonder. Each author invites us to observe and participate in the wonder all around us wherever we are every day.

There's a  catch though to "wherever we are every day."  In these books the authors are in either an extremely  beautiful place or a place of extreme solitude, a place of intentional solitude.  It would be so much better to read none of these books, go to a beautiful place and experience that place like these three authors do.  If that is not possible in the near future, reading one of these books can be the next best thing. You can experience these places vicariously.

"Suffering" and the relief from suffering is a major theme of Buddhism. The word "suffering" in our experience usually suggests some sort of horrible physical situation.  In Buddhism "suffering" is a condition that most of us deal  with daily. Someone cuts you off in traffic, you salute them with a gesture, you  sound your horn, you feel anger and frustration. This is "suffering". You left your sick child with a friend so that you could come to work.  You feel badly that you can't be with her. You feel like a horrible mother.  This is "suffering". You think about something you  said to a friend that you wish you hadn't said. You struggle with whether or not to apologize or just let it go and hope for the best. This is really about all you can think about.  This is "suffering." You reach for your phone in the console of your car and it's not there. You pull over and frantically search your purse and your car and it's not there. You have no idea where you left it. You experience a feeling of panic. This is "suffering".

"Suffering", according to Buddhist teaching,  is the flip side of "attachment".  We attach ourselves to things, thoughts and events and we "suffer". I am convinced that this type of daily, ordinary "suffering" is at the root of substance abuse. In the case of prescription drug abuse, people try to alleviate  emotional pain with drugs that are intended for physical pain. Since the drugs are not designed to alleviate emotional pain, the person uses more and more of the substance for immediate relief but no lasting benefit. Now the person still has the pain and s/he is addicted to drugs. This lethal cycle of cause and effect becomes a death spiral.

The dictionary defines "wonder" as "surprise mingled with admiration caused by something beautiful and unexpected." Suffering is persistent and inevitable. The good news  is that suffering and wonder are connected. The suffering itself can lead to wonder. So now you don't necessarily need to go to a beautiful place and you don't even need to read a book. Just live your life.  Just let the daily frustrations, aches and pains of living lead you to the wonder of living. Instead of masking the pain with addictive substances, you embrace it; you learn from it. You grow.  This technique then becomes  an emotional staycation. You don't have to go anywhere. Now the things that normally are a vexation, become a well-spring of wonder.

David Budbill writes, "Tonight at sunset, walking on the snowy road I stop and look up at the sky. I pause in this moment and I say a prayer of gratitude for getting to this evening, a prayer for being here, today, now, alive in this life, in this evening, under this sky."   The beauty was all around him, but he wouldn't have seen it if he had not stopped and looked up.

We really shouldn't fill our days with meaningless obligations. And  in spite of current pain and aggravations, we really "should" experience the  joy and wonder of our surroundings. Or at least read good books by those who do.