We Must Have Wonder
Complacency is the enemy.
Joseph Campbell, detailer and explore of mankind’s myths and myth-making, called settling for the status quo “falling asleep at the river”—the river you were meant to cross as part of your divine story. (Everyone has a divine story).
A scholar and writer I respect called complacency the Devil’s best weapon. Why? Because if things are just good enough, if we are comfortable and happy enough, we will never do anything to change the world. And the world in its raw state desperately needs changing. Being content removes the motivation to act and to share our unique gifts and make a contribution.
But the true problem with that goes even a step further. In scientific experiments, it seems that human beings can get used to pretty much anything. We are like the frogs in the saucepan. At first the water is cool and that’s what we’re used to. But little by little the chef turns up the heat very gradually, and the frog adapts each step of the way because it’s happening so slowly. Eventually the temperature is hot enough to cook the frog, and it hasn’t done a thing to escape.
We’ve adapted to so much that used to provoke outrage—all in the name of “progress.” And some of those things we take in stride and decide not to act against are killing us. One of the most harmful is an increasing isolation. The pandemic is partly to blame, but it was a growing problem even before COVID. Modern living has put barriers between us and asks us to be happy in our own expansive dwellings with all the conveniences that serve our every need.
Technology, which seemed at first like it might be a great tool for connection, has actually done the opposite. If we can work and socialize virtually, why do we need to go anywhere or see anyone? Everything we could possibly want is coming to us at the speed of light at the touch of our fingertips on a screen.
So why would we ever need a sense of awe and wonder?
The first reason is that it’s an inherent capacity instilled into each and every one of us. The universe is a great gift and the immense scope and complexity of it can only be truly perceived in a spirit of wonder. Any important discovery or invention started out with a sense of wonder and curiosity in the mind and soul of the inventor.
We possess the essence of creators at our basic core. However much we’ve hidden that from ourselves, it remains an urge that demands to be sated. Creation seeks inspiration from what came before. Our potential feeds on wonder.
Wonder is also an antidote to the jaded sense of having “been there, done that.” Maybe experiencing the world virtually creates the false impression that we’ve seen it all. But we haven’t. Actually experiencing something with our five senses isn’t like a seeing it online. One big proof of that is on a website called: “bucketlist.org.” There are over seven million experiences—and counting–that real people from around the world have declared they want to have before they ”kick the bucket.” If virtual reality were sufficient, that site would not exist.
Allowing ourselves to feel that sense of wonder connects us with the core of ourselves. It’s no accident that it’s child-like, that we feel the joy of discovery the way we did when we were little and the world was endlessly new and fascinating.
It also connects us to the ages. From the earliest paintings on cave walls and throughout history the stories and myths we create and relate originated in a sense of wonder, whether it’s the origin of the world on the back of a turtle or a mere mortal stealing fire from the ancient gods.
A sense of awe and wonder also allows us to lose ourselves in the moment, to forget our ego and become a part of what we’re experiencing. And by losing our ego and the feeling of being separate, we become less isolated and can connect to others through a shared excitement. In this way, it’s the opposite of social media, which keeps the focus on ”me.” When something fills us with wonder we transcend our boundaries and become a part of something bigger—and each other.
Think about the natural world, and the many parts that can still awe and amaze us, even today. A rainbow; a gorgeous sunset; the Northern Lights, a tiny hangnail crescent moon, constellations on a clear, dark night, a fawn curled up next to its mother.
And in civilization’s desire to replicate that sense of being awestruck—or maybe as a homage to the force behind its genesis–humans have found the means to use the natural laws of the universe to forge man-made inventions that can also infuse in us a sense of wonder. Everything from art to music to architecture is rife with achievements that continue to amaze.
The tilting bridge over the Tyne River in Newcastle on Tyne, Great Britain; the Pyramids in Egypt; the oversized heads on Easter Island; and any number of ancient buildings and modern public sculptures stand as testament to human beings desire to ingest the wonder and craft it anew for others.
And one additional result of this sense of wonder that resides in us still is: optimism–the promise of a future that can be even more miraculous and may reach new heights of awe and thrill us even more. And that is: hope.
How do we retain this ability to be awed and feel wonder in this graceless world we live in?
We have only to look for it. Travel is one vehicle many have chosen. Adventure—however we define it—is another. Pushing beyond the comforts of “now” is another way to beckon it. If we sharpen our sense of wonder we may even get good at finding the extraordinary in the ordinary.
The important thing is to feel the hunger for it, search everywhere, and never stop allowing it to touch us at our core.
We need wonder. And in our Third Act most of all.