Wondering while you are wandering into Love: A reflection for Lent

 

I find myself wandering a lot. As I wander I do in fact find myself wondering about so many things. I wonder at the beginning of the week where this Sunday’s wandering may lead. I wonder about the state of the world, our humanity, our capacity to do incredibly beautiful and loving and grotesque things to one another. Sometimes I wander and wonder with others, sometimes alone, well apart from Molly. She though is just off investigating, far less troubled by the state of her own being and or the state of the world. I would do better to follow her wanderings than my own wonderings, but then again she doesn’t have to create and deliver worship.

I was out with a friend and her dog Ronnie, Molly’s best friend, on Wednesday morning. We were wandering and wondering together. My friend is a writer and I was asking them about their current work. They told me that something had got stuck in production. I told them I was struggling to come up with something for this week, despite spending the last two days exploring, wandering down all kinds of blind alleys and getting nowhere. We wandered and wondered for a bit longer and I eventually headed for home.

I had notes and thoughts galore, but my wandering had brought no more clarity to my wondering. I did read a rather beautiful quotation posted by Rev Laura Dobson reflecting on Ash Wednesday and the beginning of Lent, that she had posted on Facebook It is by A. Powell Davies a Unitarian minister in the first half of the twentieth century. It read

“Be with us, O God, when we think of the wrongs we have done to other people; lest, hating ourselves for our evil-doing, we turn our hatred outward on to them. Help us to forgive ourselves, acknowledging that we are no better than we are; and then help us to believe that we can be better.”

As I read I thought it was a beautiful prayer to take into the season of Lent. It got me wondering as we begin our 40 day wander through Lent, what this season is actually about. Surely it is not just about deprivation, but about creation. About creating something beautiful for lives and in the lives of others. Surely its about love coming to life once again in human form. Well at least this seems to be what is at the end of Lent and the joy and celebration of Easter.

We have entered the season of Lent. I hope you all enjoyed your pancakes on Tuesday. On what some still call Shrove Tuesday, or as many prefer to call it “Pancake Day”, or as I prefer to call it “Flat Yorkshire Pudding Day”. How do you eat yours?

The following day “Ash Wednesday”, for Christians, marks the beginning of 40 days of fasting and self-sacrifice that lead up to Easter, the day of re-birth re-newal and new beginnings.

In the account found in Matthews Gospel, that we heard earlier. Jesus is “led by the spirit” into the wilderness, a place of transformation and temptation. He is taken to the pinnacle of the temple and to the top of a high mountain. Here he is offered the world, but rejects the allure of an easier showier more obvious path. Instead he chooses the road less travelled, the heroes path. He is tempted by “Satan” but resists the temptation. Satan is not a physical being, some horned character of cartoons, but the tempter. Satan is an illusory obstacle that keeps us from keeping our responsibilities. It is that power that distracts us from living the loving life that we can. I felt like I was distracted somewhat this week, as I found it hard to focus. Not that I had been wandering around in the desert, starved and exhausted for 40 days, so I didn’t have much of excuse for being distracted. That said I found it hard to focus on the task at hand. I am not alone.

Jesus resisting temptation is a universal tale; many of the great sages went on similar journeys, before embarking on their missions to heal their people. The Buddha had to leave the comforts of home, abandon his weeping family, shave his head and don the robes of a world renouncing ascetic when he began his journey to discover a cure for the pain of the world. Long before his revelations Muhammad used to retreat to Mount Hira, outside of Mecca, where he fasted, performed spiritual exercises and gave alms to the poor. He did this in an attempt to discover a remedy for the troubles of his time. It is currently Ramamdan, a time of fasting for Muslims. When Ghandi began his mission he left the comforts of the elite in which he had lived his whole life and travelled to India carefully observing the plight of the ordinary people.

During their own times in the wilderness the great sages found their answers. Through taking the road less travelled, the hard road, the difficult road, the answers came to them. They discovered the knowledge they needed to impact positively on their people in their time and place. This is the spiritual life in its essence. It is often the hardest most difficult path and it can certainly appear to be the loneliest, one filled with temptations. That said it is the one where the answers are usually found.

The great sages were not just wandering alone, they were wondering what they felt they must do with this one wild wonderful life.

In being called out into the wild they didn’t just wander aimlessly they wondered, often for a long time. I have heard lent being described as being a long time, as in length. The forty days are symbolic of a long time, just as 40 years in the desert symbolised a long time wandering round the desert for Moses and his people seeking the “Promised Land”. So too the story of Jesus in the wilderness echoes this struggle. His was to remain true to his covenant, theirs was to establish a religious community.

Wandering and wondering in the wild is part of everyone’s spiritual journey. I’m sure most have experienced this in recent times. The journey is individual as well as communal. It is a time of struggle, but also transformation. It reminds us that we are alone, but also not alone. As Sarah York puts it:

“We are neither where we have been nor where we are going. There is danger and possibility, risk and promise. In the wilderness, the spirit may descend like a dove and lift us on its wings of hope, then drive us into the depths of despair; it may affirm us with a gift of grace, then challenge us to change. In the stories and rituals of Eastern as well as Western religions, a journey into the wilderness represents a time when we both pursue and resist the Holy.

We may choose to enter the wilderness like the people of Yahweh, to escape bondage, or, like Henry David Thoreau, to “live deliberately.” Or we may, like Jesus, be driven there without much choice. Once there, even our markers of time and space collapse, for this wilderness is not in space or time, but is the boundless territory of the soul.”

It is easy to look at Lent as merely a time of deprivation. Of denying ourselves in solidarity. There is an element to this, people choose to give things up for Lent and deny human pleasure etc. it is the same with fasting in other traditions too. There is more to it than this though. To me it is a time of preparation. Yes, of purification, but in the sense that it is readying us for something new. Something that will be given birth to on the new day of renewal and re-birth that is Easter.

As I wandered home and thought of Easter and the enjoyment of chocolate and the Easter eggs in the shops etc my wonderings turned to a film that seems to me to be a fascinating allegory of what is at the heart of what was discovered during those wanderings and wonderings in the desert,

The film is “Chocolat” by Lasse Hallstrom. It is set during the season of Lent, in a small French town in 1959. The town Lansquenet holds fast to tradition. The Mayor of the town has the young priest in the palm of his hand and he gets him to preach sermons each week to the people about the dangers of temptation, the threat to morality posed by outsiders, and even the evils of chocolate.

A beautiful and mysterious woman Vianne enters the town and opens a chocolate shop, this infuriates the mayor. She is seen as the ultimate symbol of temptation. Her joy for life leads her to reaching out to others who are excluded in the village. She guesses their favourite chocolate and pours out her love and acceptance. All the while the mayor attempts to have her driven out of town. Throughout the film all the characters seem to go on a journey, the classic heroes journey. A journey that is the length of time, that is Lent, is perhaps all about.

The young priest Pere Henri goes on the same journey and finally he finds his voice. On Easter morning he wakes up and realises he has had enough and instead of preaching a sermon on the divinity of Jesus, instead he speaks of his humanity. He talks of the religion of Jesus, rather then the one that had been made around him. He spoke of the lessons of his life, about inclusion and universal love saying:

"We can't go around measuring our goodness by what we don't do. We measure goodness by what we embrace, what we create, and who we include."

Isn’t this the message that came into being in the desert after those 40 days. A message that was brought to people about a new religion, a message that stood in contrast to the tribalism and blind following of rules of the time. A message that brought the spirit alive in people’s lives. a message that needs to be heard again in this our day and age. A message of inclusion of radical love; a message of universal acceptance.

So, this is my message this Lenten season. This is where my wanderings and wonderings have led. It is nothing new. It’s message that has been heard for millenniums. It might sound radical in this day and age, but I’m not sure it is. Unless love and acceptance is considered beyond the pale. I invite you to journey with me this Lenten season and see what you might uncover and perhaps discover as we wander and wonder, sometimes alone and sometimes together.

I’m going to end with a little Mary Oliver. It’s a kind of question really. The poem is “A Summer’s Day”, so yes it is not seasonally correct, but hey we are somewhat unorthodox round here. So here it is.

“Summer’s Day” by Mary Oliver

Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean —
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down —
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

Below is a video devotion based on the material in this "blogspot"

“If you wonder while you wander then you are never lost”

 

From “Stay Curious: How Questions and Doubts Can Save Your Faith”

By Stephanie Williams O'Brien 

A thought-provoking exploration of the difference between wandering and wondering.

"If the wilderness wandering we read about in Scripture were reframed as a time of wonder, it would be an entirely different experience! I see the difference between wandering and wondering like this:

"Wandering is a coping mechanism of avoidance that tries to minimize what is uncomfortable.

"Wondering is an active pursuit of questions and a willingness to risk the tension in the unknown.

"Wandering is a way to steer clear of the stress that comes from a deep concern about the direction that might be best for you and others around you.

"Wondering is a heightened curiosity about God, yourself, others, and the world that, while often uncomfortable, is full of passion and intrigue.

"Wandering is motivated by fear, confusion, apathy, and an endless search for novelty.

"Wondering is motivated by passionate uncertainty about the mystery of God and the excitement that comes with discovery.

"Throughout the story, God was inviting a different approach. And God still offers that invitation to us — to take on a posture of wonder.

"Wonder that fuels our passion and leads to discovery. Wonder that pushes us to even deeper questions and away from pat answers. God is calling us not to satisfying contentment but to deeper meaning-making experiences — the kind of experiences that bring a community or a family closer together rather than further apart. The kind of journey that invites the courage to risk and squelches apathy.

"With questions propelling us along the way, we wonder through the woods rather than wander."

...I wonder while I wander...Will you come and wander with with me while I wonder my way through this little "blogspot"...

Like most folk I have felt like I’ve been wandering around in circles in the wilderness these last 12 months. Almost as if I haven’t been fully living in reality, as alive as I would want to be, my senses have been a little dulled. I have felt, to some degree, a little physically separate. So. I haven’t felt like I was wandering like the ancient Israelites did together, in community for forty years, with Good old Moses. That said I have not felt like I was in isolation either like Jesus enduring forty days of temptation. I have been connected and of course not completely alone but at the same time wandering around aimlessly, getting by, surviving, somehow not fully alive.

I went for a walk with this in my mind the other morning. I passed a speed limit sign that read max speed 40mph, this brought 40 into my mind. I asked myself why does the Bible always refer to the number 40? Well, the number 40 symbolises a period of test. It is referenced a total of 146 times in the Bible, in both the Jewish and Christian scripture. The last twelve months have been a test for so many of us and it is not over yet. This week brought good news of course. Death rates are falling as the vaccine continues to be rolled out and a road map out of the restrictions we have been living through is being drawn. It seems that we are tentatively heading towards life as we would like to live it. This will rightly be a slow process, not an overnight matter, but there is light at the end of the tunnel. The schools will be open again soon. We will begin to be able to socialise in small numbers outdoor, the gyms, hairdressers and eateries will begin to open. Who knows in a few months time we may all be able to sing together, although that is not going to happen this side of summer, I suspect. We are starting to slowly come out of the wilderness. Let us continue to tread carefully as we do so.

I’ve been thinking about the wild and the wilderness as I have found myself walking about again this Lent. I am taking a long daily walk, connecting in silence to life all around me. It is doing me a whole load of good. Of course it is helping me physically, as the gyms won’t be open for six or seven weeks. It is also helping me connect both inwardly and outwardly too. Walking alone is something I have done at different times in my life. As a child I would go off alone and almost live in a kind of bubble, I felt safe, but cut off in this state, it was so vital then. This was my childhood safe place. It disconnected me from a painful and frightening reality. As an adult it is a different feeling. These days it is about connecting ever more to reality. By doing so I connect to God both within myself and alive in reality. When I am out walking alone, I am not doing so as someone who feels lost and is looking to be found. Rather this is a time to wander and to wonder and thus feel connected.

Sometimes we can find ourselves utterly lost, even when in familiar surroundings. We can of course feel lost because our lives have had to be restricted and we do not know what to do with ourselves. Or that we have lost someone or something precious and we are drowning in grief.  There are other times when we can feel utterly lost within ourselves. This happens when we separate ourselves from what we know to be true, from that love at the heart of ourselves and the heart of life. When we have blinded ourselves to the light both within and without. I remember the feeling oh so well, when I walled myself in and I began to feel alone and utterly lost.

So, what do we do when we feel lost? Well sometimes we keep on wandering, round and round hoping to find the promised land, alive and awake attempting to learn from the experience, like the ancient Israelites did. Other times, the thing to do is to pause to stop wandering and begin to wonder instead. To loosen up, to lighten up, to be patient and to trust, to take a breath, to enter calm and quiet, to be open once again to let love reach in as well as pour out. As we do, we don’t feel as lost in the wild and instead of wandering aimlessly we begin to wonder with purpose.

This brings to mind a wonderful poem titled “The Way” by Edwin Muir

Friend, I have lost the way.
The way leads on.

Is there another way?
The way is one.

I must retrace the track.
It’s lost and gone.

Back, I must travel back!
None goes there, none.

Then I’ll make here my place –
The road runs on –

Stay here, forever stay.
None stays here, none.

I cannot find the way.
The way leads on.

Oh, places I have passed!
That journey’s done.

And what will come at last?
The way leads on.

Now of course sometimes when you feel lost you aren’t as lost as you think. What you are is actually in a place you would rather not be, or in a situation you would rather not be living through. I am sure we have all felt this at times these last 12 months, I know I have. This brings to mind a wonderful piece of wisdom form my old favourite Mulla Nasruddin

Nasruddin was sat on a river bank when someone shouted to him from the opposite side:

“Hey! how do I get to the other side?”

To which Nasruddin replied “You are on the other side!”

We are all on the other side of the river bank.

By the way I saw a delightful sight on the other side of the canal the other day. I saw a family walking with two dogs. One was a little Shih Tzu who was the spitting image of our little Charlie, walking side by side was a giant Saint Bernard. It was a wonderful and hilarious sight. I have been chuckling about it ever since. I would have missed it if I’d been lost in myself and not walking in the wilds of life. My mind has wondered about many scenarios about that little combination these last few days.

I digress.

Whether any of us like it or not, we all find ourselves on the wrong river bank at times, not knowing how to get to the side we would like to. We all find ourselves in an uncertain place, lost and without guidance. We all feel lost at times. Sometimes we need to just let our minds wander and begin to wonder. Sometimes those old tales help here. These stories have a way of revealing reality through their beautiful mystery.

In his meditation “The Spiritual Journey” David O Rankin names a few who have walked courageously through theirs. Stating:

“It is Moses leading the Jews through the desert of Sinai, and Jesus enduring the temptation in the wilderness of Israel, and Buddha seeking enlightenment along the dusty roads of India.

It is the glorious voyage of Odysseus in Homer’s Odyssey, the narrow paths through the circles of hell in Dante’s Inferno, and the confessions of the travellers in Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales.

It is the pilgrims sailing on the Mayflower, the settlers moving westward, being On the Road with Jack Kerouac, and spinning through a black hole in Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey”

We are all of us pilgrims on the sacred journey that is life and like so many of the more famous ones we think we have to go someplace else to discover our own Nirvana or to build the New Jerusalem. Just as the pilgrims on the Mayflower did in the seventeenth century. They believed that they had to travel a great distance to a new land to create their heaven on earth. Well, I have discovered that this is not necessary. You do not have to travel great distances to experience the beautiful journey and you do not need to travel great distances to build the New Jerusalem, it must be here, in our own hearts or nowhere. The “Kin-dom” of Love has to be built here or nowhere.

I suspect it’s the same about finding ourselves once again when we feel lost. Who or what do we listen to? Well, I am learning to listen to that inner voice, that light that shines bright within all of us. That spark of the Divine that is within everything. That which awakens the sense of my senses, that which guides me home no matter how lost I am and that which allows me to be at home wherever my feet are planted. That Kin-dom of Love, within me, within each of you and within everything.

Let love be our navigator it will always lead us home, to the place where we belong. Do not worry too much about feeling lost, we all feel that way at times.

The problem isn’t getting lost, we all get lost at times. The problem is in losing faith that you can be found once again. The key is how we live when we find ourselves lost. Do we close down and get lost deeper in our fear, or do we pause and reach out and ask for help from those loving forces that are all around whether visible or invisible. Sometimes all we need to do is stand still and listen, to what is both within us and without us, all around us. Sometimes you just need to sing with the blackbirds, they will always sing back to you and ever more sweetly. Sometimes you just need to follow the directions in this final poem “Lost” by David Wagoner. Just  “Stand still. The forest knows where you are. You must let it find you.”

"Lost" by David Wagoner

Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you
Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here,
And you must treat it as a powerful stranger,
Must ask permission to know it and be known.
The forest breathes. Listen. It answers,
I have made this place around you.
If you leave it, you may come back again, saying Here.
No two trees are the same to Raven.
No two branches are the same to Wren.
If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you,
You are surely lost. Stand still. The forest knows
Where you are. You must let it find you.

I Still Feel the Wonder

This is one of my favourite songs... "Changing of the Light"

"...I still feel the wonder as the sky turns to fire..."

The following words by ee cummings have been floating around in my consciousness these last few days...

i thank You God for most this amazing day:

for the leaping greenly spirits of trees and a blue true dream of sky;

and for everything which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today, and this is the sun's birthday;

this is the birth day of life and love and wings:

and of the gay great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing breathing any

--lifted from the no of all nothing—

human merely being doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake

And now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

I also love the fact that cummings hasn't used capitol letters, not even for his own name, except for two words...

"...now the ears of my ears awake and now the eyes of my eyes are opened..."

D. H. Lawrence once declared “The sense of wonder, that is our sixth sense and it is a natural religious sense”.

Our sixth sense is a natural religious sense, what on earth could that mean? I suspect that he is saying that the sense of wonder is something that is natural to us all and it this that sparks our natural religiousness. Viktor Frankl drew similar conclusions, with regard to our natural religiousness, claiming that we possess a will to find meaning; that in some sense we human beings are the meaning makers; that there is something within us that searches for meaning in life; that there is something that occurs when we truly see life in all its majesty; that there is something that ignites this natural religiousness within us. We are the religious animal.

We each of us seemingly have this religious impulse ingrained within us. Now of course sometimes that gets shut off and or closed down by life’s busyness and or suffering. We can all become desensitised to life from time to time, but the impulse is still there and can be reignited, even when all seems lost.

“I still feel the wonder as the sky turns to fire”

There is wonder present in all life. To see it we just need to reawaken the ears of our ears and open the eyes of eyes. Religious practise is one way of achieving this. It helps to create those Angelus moments I spoke of in the previous blog. We cynical adults need such moments to reawaken that natural childish enthusiasm and sense of wonder at life. It is no mistake that Jesus (Mark 10 vv 13-16) when speaking to his disciples told them that they needed to receive the kingdom of God like a child if they wanted to enter it. I suspect that he was talking here of the Kingdom now and not just what was to follow. He was teaching them that in order to experience that Kingdom that was already here and now they had to view life through the eyes of child; that they needed to reawaken the ears of their ears and open the eyes of their eyes; that they needed to reawaken their sense of wonder.

Prayer helps me to pay attention. Actually it does more than that; it helps me to connect to all of life. When I pray I feel that I am connecting beyond myself to the greater reality. This I believe enables me to reawaken the ears of my ears and open the eyes of my eyes. According to Thomas Heschel “to pray is to take notice of the wonder, to regain a sense of the mystery that animates all beings, the divine margin in all attainments.” I would go further than this and claim that the practise of wonder is itself a form of prayer.

Thomas Carlyle viewed wonder as the basis of worship. I see real truth is this. I believe that the purpose of worship is to reawaken, to maintain and to develop this sixth sense, this natural religiousness, this sense of wonder. One of the reasons I worship with others is to remember how to connect to that natural spirit in all life; to remember what is important in life; to connect beyond the confines of myself and then to carry that into my everyday activities. To worship is to remember, to re-bind together, this is the essence of religion.

That said I do not believe that mediators are required in order to achieve this. We can reawaken our natural religiousness, that sixth sense, that sense of wonder, alone. The nineteenth century transcendentalists brought this insight to western religion. They said that we do not need clergy, priests or religion itself to mediate our experience of God or the truth; we do not need the mediation of others in order to find meaning. They said that it was the inalienable right and duty of every soul to approach God directly. In fact they went further and said that there was no other way to know the holy or Divine other than to experience it directly through the creation, through nature.

Could this be true? Can the sense of wonder only truly be awoken through nature? Well personally I'm not convinced of this. That said I do suspect that if you cannot connect to the divine through nature it is unlikely that you will you will be able to connect to it through worship and words.

I recently came across the following words by Wendal Berry.

“I don't think it is enough appreciated how much an outdoor book the Bible is. It is a "hypaethral book," such as Thoreau talked about - a book open to the sky. It is best read and understood outdoors, and the farther outdoors the better. Or that has been my experience of it. Passages that within walls seem improbable or incredible, outdoors seem merely natural. This is because outdoors we are confronted everywhere with wonders; we see that the miraculous is not extraordinary but the common mode of existence. It is our daily bread. Whoever really has considered the lilies of the field or the birds of the air and pondered the improbability of their existence in this warm world within the cold and empty stellar distances will hardly balk at the turning of water into wine - which was, after all, a very small miracle. We forget the greater and still continuing miracle by which water (with soil and sunlight) is turned into grapes.”

I suspect that this applies to all religion and philosophy, which can never be fully understood or experienced within the confines of walls, institutions or books. As I have heard many times "The religious life is not a theory, we have to live it." and in order to live with, we have to truly experience it. This means embracing all that is life and increasing our sensitivity to it.

The sense of wonder is never lost. We can reawaken the ears of our ears and open the eyes of our eyes. We can re-awaken this sixth sense, this natural religiousness, this sense of wonder. Wonder can re-open doors which invite us to a greater experience of living that can transform our experience of life. This can enable us to fully sense life in all its forms; to fully sense our senses. We can be swept away by the elements or stand next a mountain and feel as insignificant as a speck of dust. All that is required is that we let the natural wonder at the core of our being work through our senses and as a result we become instantly connected to the joyfulness woven into the core of all creation.

Everyone can awaken to the wonder of life; everyone can find that sustaining joy which is at the core of all life; everyone can reawaken the ears of their ears and open the eyes of their eyes.

"I still feel the wonder as the sky turns to fire."

"It was truly awful, it was full of awe"

"The white twisted clouds and the endless shades of blue in the ocean

make the hum of the spacecraft systems, the radio chatter, even your 

own breathing disappear. There is no cold or wind or smell to tell you

that you are connected to Earth. 

You have an almost dispassionate platform - remote, Olympian and yet so moving that you can hardly believe how emotionally attached you are to those rough patterns shifting steadily below."

Thomas Stafford Apollo 10.

I can only imagine what Thomas Stafford must have felt as he orbited the earth. Very few of us will ever experience that sense of total physical disconnection from our home, the earth. Yet from this distance Stafford began to appreciate that from which he came. From space he looked on the earth in awe, not wonder, awe. Although he was physically disconnected, his soul appeared completely connected to what he was gazing upon, it shut out all the noises of his spacecraft and even his own breath. Staring down at the earth, took his breath away. It must have been an incredibly beautiful and yet in some sense frightening experience. To me this is worship, this sense of connection that moves way beyond the confines of the physical.

We often hear about the need to develop a sense of wonder, in order to give life meaning. I do not believe that this is enough. What is required is a reawakening of our sense of awe. Awe and wonder are not exactly the same, although the words do appear to be used interchangeably. They both posses an element of surprise or even astonishment about them; they both grab our attention and focus completely; they both awaken our senses. Awe though is different to wonder, there is more to it, this is because it possesses an element of fear and reverence. It is perhaps best described as revered wonder with a sense of fear or trepidation blended in. Wonder opens the senses, where as awe brings them to a different level of being. There is a greater power in awe, than in wonder. It is almost overpowering, over whelming.

I was recently talking with a mother who described the birth of her daughter as the most awful experience of her life. I was a little taken aback by the use of the phrase awful, it didn’t seem right. Then she explained! At the first sight of her daughter she was just full of awe, not wonder awe! She was blown away, by this tiny presence right before her eyes, that she loved revered and worshipped. She described the feeling as over powering and to some extent frightening. It was truly awful, it was full of awe.

Isn’t it strange how awful is understood negatively, where as wonderful has only positive connotations. I suspect that this is because we fear that sense of being out of control that accompanies awe. We do not like to experience powerlessness; we like to believe we are masters of our destiny, masters of the universe. We are not, life is fragile. That’s what makes every moment, every experience, potentially awesome.