Tag Archives: wonder

Wonder of Being

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Whenever I have the opportunity to spend time with my little grandsons, all under the age of three, I am vividly reminded of the wonder and miracle of simply being alive. A muddy twig or stone they find on the ground fascinates them as easily as a shiny new toy. They see with “Beginner’s mind,” with what we ourselves saw before society taught us what was “good,” “beautiful,” or “important,” and what was not. Their approach is strikingly different from the attitude we adults so often voice: “Been there and done that!” In recent years, as the veil of conditioning has grown increasingly transparent and the realization of what is deepens, I have noticed that, like my grandsons, I stay put in the moment more often. And like them, when we play peekaboo, I never cease to be surprised at the wonder of it all.

Figure/ground shifts alter my perspective repeatedly. When I look at my hand, I find life. When I look for life, I find myself sitting with my morning cup of coffee. I study my multiplying wrinkles, and muse on the passing years; then I see myself everywhere – in every face, in every facet of life. I am nothing and everything. My being, our being, stretches from quarks to quasars, nanoseconds to light-years, and embodies both life and death. As I get another cup of coffee, I am filled with profound awe.

Listening to a Bach sonata, I am reminded that all manifestation is like the notes played on the cello, coming out of nothing and just as quickly disappearing. Our being unfolds as the evanescent, timeless, flickering radiance of what is. It is all a play of the mind, appearances in our awareness that are without substance, including the self we think we are! The awareness of our true nature precedes both mind and manifestation, so there is no figuring all this out, and no answers to find. Yet, here I am, and I have a dentist appointment this afternoon!

There is beauty in every direction, and only our attention is required for it to dazzle us with its creative brilliance. Whether it is a song bird in the spring, the simple elegance of a cloud overhead, or the laughter of children, life invites us to lose ourselves in the intimacy and enchantment of its creations. The feelings of profound gratitude, love, reverence and humility that accompany such experiences tell us this is our natural birthright. This is home, and where we belong. We are Life.

I find myself drawn increasingly to simplicity, and the luxury of silence, solitude and stillness. I relish the mystery that is, and sip the subtle joy of unknowing like a fine wine. There is a growing inclusiveness unfolding, expanding like ripples in a pond, a deep love pulling me into union with all that is. Gradually emptying my pockets of the favored opinions, beliefs, and attachments of a lifetime, I find everything that is needed right here and now: just this. While life remains replete with all the characteristic suffering and dilemmas of existence, perfection is found in imperfection, and on occasion, I simply float effortlessly in the currents of what is.

How are we ultimately to express the miracle of it all? The same force that makes the planets spin in their orbits causes our hearts to beat, brings the wave to the shore, and lifts the doe over the fence. We participate in every moment of creation and watch firsthand as wonders unfold in our presence. How can we make sense of a heart overflowing with gratitude amid the suffering and distress of life? Language cannot snare our being in a net of words or plumb the contents of our hearts. The measures of science cannot capture the splendor of the setting sun, nor gauge the reach and power of our love. However we try, there is no way to articulate the imponderable nature of things. We simply yield to life’s unfolding with deep gratitude and joy. Joining our children in the celebration of what is, we can never unravel its mystery, but we can be it.

The original version of this post appeared in James Waite’s wonderful website, Nonduality Living

Are you present for your life?

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Are you living your life consciously? Are you present for the extraordinary wonder of being alive? Are you awake or are you sleep-walking? Buddhist Master Thich Nhat Hanh says you don’t have to walk on water to have a miracle. All you need to do is walk on this very earth. But you must do it consciously. Now you may be saying to yourself, this is ridiculous. How could I lead the complicated, fast-pace life I lead without being conscious? How do I get so much done? Who just got the promotion or the nice raise? But let me ask you this. Have you ever driven to work, and when you pulled into the parking lot, realized you weren’t consciously present for the drive? Scary isn’t it? We all do this, and we do it a lot. We pride ourselves in our ability to multitask. We are so busy, our minds are so full of things that need to be done yesterday, that we forget to be present for what is most important. Do you ever really look deeply into the eyes of your friend, spouse or partner, and ponder the preciousness of the moment? Is the piano concerto that you have playing only background music, or do you allow yourself to be drawn into its beauty? Do you ever just sit on the porch and listen to it rain? It is the everyday things like this that make our lives so incredible.

Zen teachers tell a timeless story about a fish in search of the great ocean of life. Oblivious to the water all around it, the fish swims great distances in its quest, with no results; it cannot find the ocean anywhere it looks. The fish is living in the ocean, but doesn’t realize it. If the fish were rudely yanked out of the water on a fisherman’s hook, however, the elusive goal would suddenly become obvious: water is its very life. Our experience is quite similar. We are immersed in life, in the flesh and blood of our existence, but blindly seek fulfillment elsewhere. We spend most of our lives in mental games and abstractions, puzzling over what life means, while the truth is all around us. We simply need to wake up and smell the proverbial roses. This is it! Just this. Yet we often don’t realize it until, like the hapless fish, we find ourselves out of our element, gasping for air. When suffering abruptly interrupts the normal flow of things and shakes us out of our routines, it is an opportunity to see life from a deeper, more substantive perspective—but one we often miss. How many of us fail to see the truth of life until we are close to death? Then the simple sound of a bird’s song or the smell of baking bread can bring us to tears. Some fish are thrown back and get a second chance, but it is very risky for us to count on such a reprieve.