New Writing: Wisdom Begins In Wonder

I didn’t want to go for a walk. In fact I was almost dragging my feet literally. I was tired and bogged down with too many things. My husband was the author of today’s walk. They had become his new thing this week during quarantine. They had been mine for weeks, but this week I was tired. I did agree the weather was uncharacteristically perfect. A slight breeze, bright blue skies, and low humidity. So I went, a bit begrudgingly if I am honest. 

It took about four tries to get out of the door, which it always does with 3 children. One false start at least for each of them, and then one for the grownups. But we were off, a new quarantine tradition like so many families. I knew we were very lucky to have a safe place to walk when so many didn’t.

Our driveway is steep, in an inverse way, so walking up it to leave our house always feels like a commitment to where you are going. I pushed my feet to go up the hill, waiting for the click of fresh air and a fresh attitude to come at the top of the hill as it often did. When you breathe in a new scene, new air, and that often shifts your perspective. But it didn’t come. “Hm, I thought as I walked….I am really sticking to this funk.”

The reality is I was completely overwhelmed. With news I didn’t know how to process. With the weight of things I wasn’t sure where to place or how to integrate into my life. I was unbalanced with concern, wobbly really with worry. And that made me feel heavy, and tired. 

We kept walking, up another hill, which required commitment as well. You are not just walking, you are committing. I hid an internal eye roll. I wanted to sulk in my concerns, fear, and grief. 

Everyone was so cheery, and they were so lovely. I promised myself I wouldn’t ruin the walk for them. 

We made it up and around the hill, and my youngest daughter stopped abruptly on her pink scooter, which just so happened to match her pink helmet, her pink shorts, and pink shoes. 

“Look mom!” She said. “Look guys!” Calling to the whole family. To be honest I had no idea what we were looking at. Having walked on this road 80 times in the last weeks, I really didn’t see anything new.

“We should bring our shovels back and dig here for treasure, look!” 

And as I looked down at the road, sure more now at least in the direction I should be facing, I saw a part of the road was carved out, but still the same color as the flecked black pavement. 

I gently moved her little pink self back so we could all see. 

“X marks the spot!” She yelled proudly. 

And there it was. A large X that looked like it had been dug out as someone would dig one out and write it in sand, the X shape almost looking like it had been dug recently although it was clearly old with the wear and tear of the pavement.

And then she stepped right into the middle of it, her tiny pink shoes, fitting just snugly in the middle of the X. She was mesmerized.

And I could almost see it. A magical view underneath the X she must have been picturing sure there was indeed treasure there. A cavern unexpectedly underneath this normal road, sparkly gold, twinkly jewels and unexpected shapes and colors all glittering around a huge treasure box. And I could almost feel it… the excitement of finding a treasure in the middle of an ordinary road, in the middle of an ordinary day, in the middle of an ordinary life. Under the grey black pavement, there could be a whole world of wonder.

And as I scaled back out to the road, from the imaginary world she had invited us to, I realized what I had lost. I had lost my sense of wonder. Like a sense of smell, or a sense of taste, the world falls quite flat when we no longer approach it with a curiosity and imagination.

Everything had fallen quite grey and pavement like for me, and this often happens when we are depleted. 

But the wonder, what am I missing all around me, how many x marks the spot moments have I passed on this short walk?

Socrates says, “Wisdom begins in wonder.” And well to be honest that has always annoyed me. Sorry Socrates. I even have a piece of art that says this quote leaning on a little wall with other art in my laundry room. I bought it because I liked the artist and the color and thought I might grow to like the message, I mean it sounds good right?

But as I walk by it over and over again in the daily chores of life, emptying and refilling the washer and dryer, getting food in the pantry. I would often think what does that even mean? And on annoyed days, think, I am going to take that one down.

If wisdom is in essence the ability to discern well, to have good sense, to have good judgement….then where does wonder play into that? Wonder I find must imply that we don’t know. It is a posture of awe, or possibility, of curiosity, and appreciation. And maybe that is where true wisdom does begin: In not knowing. In the humility of understanding your limited view. It begins in understanding my position in comparison to the much larger world, to God. Walt Whitman tells us to: “Be curious, not judgmental.”

The next morning after the walk, I wrapped up the things I do quietly most mornings, meditate/pray, often with lots of little interruptions from a bustling family. And as I started my day I flipped through a quote book I leave laying out for just that purpose. And the book opened right to, you guessed it: Wisdom begins in wonder. Jeeez Socrates I thought. And then I stopped to actually to wonder, what I might have the chance to learn. 

Sometimes we get mired down, entangled in grief, anger, fear, anxiety. And well, that is quite understandable. Or frankly we just get so busy. And more often than any of those we judge: we judge who we are, what we are experiencing.

I am too much, too big, too small, too far gone for help. I am too quiet, I am a failure. This day is bad, this day has to be perfect. I am never going to make it. I shouldn’t be that. I should be this. What we practice is judgement. Over and over. Judgement of who we are. These judgements are rarely curious, and even more rarely kind. And why do we think we are so right?

What if we’re wrong. What if x marks the spot on you. What if you were created in wonder. Absolute wonder. What if your judgement of yourself is in fact quite limited, and maybe even incorrect? For just this moment, put down the judgment and wonder. Think about the wonder of who you are without the judgement. What might you do, who are you really? Why might their opinions not matter at all?

I almost missed the walk. And that x marks the spot moment. The unexpected wonder of child about hidden treasure opened my eyes. As I looked up from that X, I noticed other things. I swear I had never seen that pink flowering tree on that familiar walk ever before. I noticed the growth of my kids, and the freshness of the air. I noticed how good they were on the scooters and bikes. I took my eyes up and out of her wonder, and I saw things around me I never had. A wonder of a walk I decided was a pain being a gift. The wonder of who they could be, who I could be, what I could learn on that walk. 

What if the wisdom, the true wisdom about who you are, does not begin in the old judgments, but begins in wonder? What if you’ve had it wrong? What if all the judgments are wrong, wonderfully wrong? Will you wonder with me today about your greatness? About who you might be? About what today might teach you? About what a treasure you are and have buried inside of you? It is wise to learn and know the truth of who you are, and I think Socrates had it right after all. When we suspend judgement, we can get curious and wonder about ourselves, about life, who we are and who we are becoming.