Everyday Wonders
Here’s the definition and origin of the word wonder, from Etymology Online:
Old English wundor "marvelous thing, miracle, object of astonishment," from Proto-Germanic *wundran (source also of Old Saxon wundar, Middle Dutch, Dutch wonder, Old High German wuntar, German wunder, Old Norse undr), of unknown origin. In Middle English it also came to mean the emotion associated with such a sight (late 13c.).
I experience this emotion nearly every day. Most often, the source is something both commonplace and beautiful. Sometimes, my sense of wonder is caused by an “object of astonishment” that is confusing, ugly, or evil.
That latter sense of wonder invokes the old English phrase, “It wonders me.” When I feel that version of wonder I usually say, “It baffles me that (fill in the blank).”
But today I bring you postive wonders, not the extraordinary wonders of the universe, but the commonplace.
Light on my sleeping hubby--During the summer when the sun rises before I do, I often lay in the bed awake for a bit watching how the light reflects on his face and hair. I try to discern the transition of colors. White outlines his nose, then fades to shades of yellow and peach. One shadow looks brown, another grey. His hair is all alight with silver glimmers.
The softness of puppy fur—this needs no elaboration, right?
Traffic—I fully realize accidents happen every day. Likely, you know someone who was hurt or killed in an accident. But for the most part (albeit not downtown!), traffic moves like a choregraphed dance. All those different brains guiding all those vehicles this way and that—simply amazing!
Recorded sound—Were I an audio physicist, I would understand how it can be that a machine makes groves in plastic or it embeds a voice into a data file on my phone, but I don’t think that would lessen my sense of wonder. It doesn’t stretch my mind to think something is recorded, but that it sounds exactly like Yoyo Ma’s music or my voice, with all the nuances and individual quirks, it knocks my socks off. Same for transmitted sound.
Smart devices—will it ever cease to make my smile, saying, “Alexa, good morning,” and the lights go on, the news starts, etc. I still can’t believe I’m living in the future. When Scotty tried talking to a desktop computer in Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home, I thought, “Like that will ever happen.” And it did!
Physical healing—I have a deep, large scar that runs from above where my bellybutton used to be to my pubic bone. It’s not a reminder of how sick I was in 2012 so much as a reminder of how amazing it is that my body healed from a deadly infection. Sure, it had help from other humans in the form of surgery and antibiotics, but it healed. Everything works again! I feel the same wonder watching a paper cut disappear.
Written language—Okay, I’m pretty wowed by language itself, but written language, that’s a mindblower. I can read the thoughts of humans who lived hundreds, thousands of years before I was born. Little symbols get etched into rock, inked onto paper, or coded onto an electronic screen then eyes see it and a brain garners meaning from them across miles or eons. Awesome!
Diversity of life on Earth—There’s so much life here. Atoms and molecules have compiled into an amazing variety of forms; it is staggering. Itty bitty bacteria, dogs, jellyfish, ferns, elephants, octopi, mushrooms, moose, coral, ants, butterflies, lions and tigers and bears, oh my!
Mushrooms by NSF building along Dixboro Road in Ann Arbor. Photo by Justinian Herzog
These are just a few of things that fill me with wonder without having to scale a mountain, travel to the sea, or seek out a waterfall. What fills you with wonder?
Wonder and Joy
Robinson Jeffers (1887 –1962)
The things that one grows tired of—O, be sure
They are only foolish artificial things!
Can a bird ever tire of having wings?
And I, so long as life and sense endure,
(Or brief be they!) shall nevermore inure
My heart to the recurrence of the springs,
Of gray dawns, the gracious evenings,
The infinite wheeling stars. A wonder pure
Must ever well within me to behold
Venus decline; or great Orion, whose belt
Is studded with three nails of burning gold,
Ascend the winter heaven. Who never felt
This wondering joy may yet be good or great:
But envy him not: he is not fortunate.
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PHOTO CREDITS:
Lady with phonograph picture from the Library of Congress.
Mushrooms photo by Justinian Herzog (@a2photopunk)
