To feel wonder - to embody wonder with our whole being is a radical act of life affirming love beyond self inflicted narrative or society induced psychosis. To be in wonder is to to embody — wow!
Nature fills me with a profound sense of wonder and gratitude. Whether I’m sitting before the towering cliffs of Yosemite, feeling the power of the ocean as its waves crash against the shore, or quietly observing my yard as the morning awakens before life stirs, I am constantly reminded of the beauty around me. As the day draws to a close, the muted hues of the setting sun also evoke a deep appreciation within me. It is in these quiet moments of reflection that I discover a richness of life, even in the aftermath of great loss. Thank you for reminding me to embrace my remaining time with greater intent
I often marvel, not at life, I differentiate it from the living, life being (for me) our actions in time. The living is the breath (I don't have a better word for the moment) that allows us to exist, to act...in a splendid body, a deep look...The extreme beauty of the animal, plant, human world, the arts... Sometimes I would like to express it in poetry, but I am not capable of it, my intellect does not have the toolbox, I suppose.
It is a very beautiful text, but the need for elsewhere still reveals a lack, and also expresses that here it is not a place that we can love (globally) and be happy there. It seems to me more of a place of learning whether we like it or not, circumstances sometimes force us to.
I really like the part: "It can be provoked by the most simple sounds and sights,..."
As for me, I can love the living intensely, without loving the life that comes from it. A deep connection, without any direct relationship with the associated unfolding. I don't want anything more, I don't need anything more, and strangely, it has made me happier than before.
Let's talk about "our ordinary minds demand an ordinary world." And to my ordinary mind comes my ordinary babushka, for whom praying to God was best "before dark and after sunset" in the literary way because only that time she was free from her daily work and could feel her God, who helped her to survive the hard times, I think..
Thank you, David, for noticing and liking my comment. I actually wrote about my babushka in my memoir Wrong Country. Cannot forget her even being babushka myself.
I like the idea Powys presents here. The bright power of the sun presents us the beauty and tragedy of the world. But in dim light, at night, we are caught in a cave of reflections, and must squint into ourselves for meaning. Prayer and meditation are in the toolkit that lets us see.
To feel wonder - to embody wonder with our whole being is a radical act of life affirming love beyond self inflicted narrative or society induced psychosis. To be in wonder is to to embody — wow!
Here is my yoga poem for happy baby pose, which explores the idea that one of the tragedies of our time is our loss of wonder and how to be delighted again by our toes:https://coriefeiner.substack.com/p/how-to-become-a-happy-baby?r=1vl0c8
Seeming echoes of a Walt Whitman-esque wonder for Life !!! " O , that a mouse is miracle enough to stagger a million infadels..."
Wonder seizes us and renders self and Life itself ; infinite & awesome !! 😉😊
Thank you Zachary, for this dose of Walt. If he doesn't inspire us, I don't know who can.
Nature fills me with a profound sense of wonder and gratitude. Whether I’m sitting before the towering cliffs of Yosemite, feeling the power of the ocean as its waves crash against the shore, or quietly observing my yard as the morning awakens before life stirs, I am constantly reminded of the beauty around me. As the day draws to a close, the muted hues of the setting sun also evoke a deep appreciation within me. It is in these quiet moments of reflection that I discover a richness of life, even in the aftermath of great loss. Thank you for reminding me to embrace my remaining time with greater intent
Beautifully said.
I often marvel, not at life, I differentiate it from the living, life being (for me) our actions in time. The living is the breath (I don't have a better word for the moment) that allows us to exist, to act...in a splendid body, a deep look...The extreme beauty of the animal, plant, human world, the arts... Sometimes I would like to express it in poetry, but I am not capable of it, my intellect does not have the toolbox, I suppose.
It is a very beautiful text, but the need for elsewhere still reveals a lack, and also expresses that here it is not a place that we can love (globally) and be happy there. It seems to me more of a place of learning whether we like it or not, circumstances sometimes force us to.
I really like the part: "It can be provoked by the most simple sounds and sights,..."
As for me, I can love the living intensely, without loving the life that comes from it. A deep connection, without any direct relationship with the associated unfolding. I don't want anything more, I don't need anything more, and strangely, it has made me happier than before.
Let's talk about "our ordinary minds demand an ordinary world." And to my ordinary mind comes my ordinary babushka, for whom praying to God was best "before dark and after sunset" in the literary way because only that time she was free from her daily work and could feel her God, who helped her to survive the hard times, I think..
Thank you, David, for noticing and liking my comment. I actually wrote about my babushka in my memoir Wrong Country. Cannot forget her even being babushka myself.
What a remarkable essay that directs us towards the glory of "those moods, when the clutch of unredeemed matter is less heavy upon us."
Thank you for posting it.
In those moments, I lose the ability to lie to myself. Moments of authenticity and gratitude. Powys says it possibly better than any.
I like the idea Powys presents here. The bright power of the sun presents us the beauty and tragedy of the world. But in dim light, at night, we are caught in a cave of reflections, and must squint into ourselves for meaning. Prayer and meditation are in the toolkit that lets us see.
gracias como siempre
reminds me of schleiermacher’s response to cultural despisers - piety as a fleeting impulse, inspiration
Oh, how I do relate 🥰
Love this.