Stay in Wonder

My thoughts had consumed me.  I was heading for a nervous breakdown if I couldn’t get some sleep.  The worries and cares of life had the best of me, circling thoughts that never slept.  They had a party in my head all night–another restless night.  Good luck in being productive today, I thought, as I opened my eyes, I laid there staring at the ceiling.

Yes, I suddenly realized, it was Saturday, thank God!  I let out a sigh of relief.  I could take my time getting up.  But the jarring sound of a police car passing by was the final rush of adrenaline that made me get out of bed, well, at least sitting on the edge of my bed.  It was the phone ringing in the living room that finally got me on my feet and into my slippers.

I made my way to the phone. “Hello,” trying to sound as awake as possible, but knowing the crackle in my voice gave me away.

“Christopher!” It was Daniela, my twin sister, calling from Ottawa.   “Sorry, did I wake you?  You sound like you just got up.”

“No, you didn’t wake me, but I did just get up.” I flopped down hard on the couch and pressed the phone against my ear.

“What’s up?” she asked

 “I am having so much trouble sleeping” I moaned

“How come?”

“Well, I don’t know, the voice inside my head won’t shut up.  It just keeps turning. 

“Ya?  Why?  What are you thinking about?”

“I don’t know really, anything and everything.  You know, nonsensical stuff and everything in between.  Like, did I shut the fridge door? to disturbing world news, to, I need new shoes?  What I really need is a vacation from my mind.  I can’t sleep.” 

Daniela laughed and asked.

“Have you ever tried meditating?”

Right away, alarm bells went off in my mind.  Although I had left the church soon after bible college, I still found myself cautious about certain practices.  We had been taught that to meditate was a dangerous dark art.  It was something gurus did in India to communicate with something other than God.

“Ah, no… meditating?” I could hear my voice rise in concern.

Daniela responded without missing a beat.

“Ya meditating.”

“Don’t you have to light a candle and sit in a circle in a dark room and start chanting oh ma mee oh ma mee?” I really had no idea what meditating was.

She laughed again. “No! That sounds like a seance.  You’ve been watching too many movies. Well,” she paused then continued, “the best instructions I’ve heard on how to meditate is to watch your thoughts as if you are watching TV.  That’s it. The secret is not to get emotionally attached to them.  Just observe them.  Watch them float by like clouds.”

“Really, that’s it?”

“Yep, so when you start to think about new shoes, just watch the thought.  Don’t try to stop it.”

“That doesn’t sound evil,” I said, surprised.

“I know, right!  So, try that.”

That is what I will do, I thought as I hung up the phone.

I knew of some woods near my house that were far enough away from the sounds of city traffic, an ideal place to practice. I had to do something about this inner desperation of these negative thoughts.

My intention was simple, to quiet the chatter in my head.  But what I did not know as I walked into the woods that fall day, was that I’d be forever changed.  A veil would lift.  I’d behold a mystery, and wake to see a world full of magic, miracles, and wonder.

The Woods

Walking deep into the woods, I took note of landmarks to find my way back. I crossed a wooden bridge and found a log by the riverbank to sit on.

The chatter and worry were so loud, I had a hard time sitting still.  My mind was filled with random thoughts.  I remembered what Daniela had said, “Just watch your thoughts like you are watching TV. Let them float by like clouds.  Don’t become emotionally attached to them.” 

The first thought came.  Okay, just watch it, I told myself as I closed my eyes.  Is this going to work?  I am probably wasting my time sitting here.  This is ridiculous, is this me procrastinating?  I could be getting something done. 

I opened my eyes.  I was caught up in a whirlwind of thoughts again, surprised at how turbulent my mind was. 

Okay, I told myself, try not to think for just five seconds.  Tick tock, tick, tock. Yes, there it is.  I am not thinking.  No thoughts at all. Wait, I opened my eyes again.  I am thinking about not thinking. No matter how many times I tried to view my thoughts passing by like clouds, as my sister had suggested. It was no use, once again I would become entangled in a web of random thoughts and emotions. It was as though a TV had been left on with some unknown person constantly changing the channels. Mini dramas played out in my head, like an argument I had with a co-worker years ago, to imagined dramas of fighting injustice, to remembering the beautiful garden at my aunt’s house. My mind jumped randomly from scene to scene.  I could not detach from them.

I went back to the woods the next day.  There I sat with my loud, noisy mind, watching the river go by.    It took time, but on returning each day, the chattering became less frequent.   I slowly learned to watch the thoughts float by, detaching myself from their noise and clutter. There were fleeting moments when the thoughts even stopped, something inside me was indeed changing, my mind was becoming quiet. At night, I was no longer tossed and turned by an ocean of thoughts. I awoke– fully rested.

It was a new experience in my life, the smell of pine trees, the forest, and communing with nature. I enjoyed it. It did not matter the time, or season, rain, or snow.  I would find my way to the riverbank to sit.  The days turned to weeks.  I watched fall turn to winter, then spring to summer. Each season had its own unique beauty.

It was one of those lazy days in summer while sitting on the riverbank, something peculiar happened.

In the stillness of a mid-summer afternoon, meadow flowers bloomed, birds sang, squirrels foraged for lost nuts, cicadas buzzed in the trees, and the gentle river lapped its banks. I soaked it all in. My mind was no longer living in the past or worried about the future.  It was in the moment of “now” there at the river’s edge. It was then as if a wizard had waved a magic wand.  All my thoughts suddenly stopped. 

There I sat.  No thought.  No chatter.  The voice inside my head was gone. A tree was not a tree; it just was.  The river was not the river it just was.  I was no longer “I”. Not separate from everything but a part of everything.  I could no longer distinguish as to where “I” started and where “I” ended.  I became aware of something old, even ancient, something beyond time itself.

I felt great peace, turmoil had ceased.  I sat still, with no sense of time or of myself, I just was.

As I walked back through the forest, I was in awe at what I was seeing as though a veil had been lifted from my eyes. I could see all around me, life expressing itself through everything, the colors, the sounds, the fragrance of summer flowers. My senses reeled. I was alive! I paused. I had no idea, for years, that internal voice of chatter had infected my mind with clutter and kept me in turmoil. It had blinded me, made me competitive, aggressive, enslaved me in fear, made me feel alone and separate from my surroundings. I had raged against life itself, directing it to the way I thought it should be. That internal voice of judgment was now gone.

Everything I looked at, seemed as if I was seeing it for the first time.  How tall the trees were. How vivid the color of a bumblebee pollinating meadow flowers. The smell of summer in bloom. The butterflies. The blueness of the sky. The whiteness of cotton ball clouds floating overhead. The sound of the forest full of life. Her woodland creatures singing.

The internal voice of judgment was replaced by joy and wonder at what I saw and heard. Everything was vibrant, alive, connected, and had its purpose.

How many people down through the centuries had walked through this forest?  How many birds had sung to the rising of the sun?  How many seasons had this forest witnessed?  And how many more will there be long after I am gone?

I was at peace.  I was no longer interested in fame, promotions, achievements, or the controlled dramas of my life.  I was, however, interested in that one moment, at the river’s edge, where time seemed to stop, and I caught a glimpse of something, something eternal.

As I stood at the kitchen sink washing an apple, I reflected on the experience.  Shaking the apple dry, I stopped. The apple looked so brilliant, the color, the texture, the smell, its story.  Yes, it’s story!  I pondered.  How many apples turned, to seed then to tree?  How many times had that occurred?  How many apple trees had survived fires, floods, drought, or man-made catastrophes, for this one apple to be here now?  How many times did I come to the table, clumsy and heavy-handed stuffing my face full of food, without taking note of this wonder? 

Still gazing at the apple.  I thought, what tree did you come from?  Was it near or far? I wanted to see that tree. How old was that apple tree?  How many had eaten from her branches without a second thought?  How many birds had nested in her branches?  Everything I considered caused me to marvel, at how it came into being. How did it become a part of the book of life? I slept in wonder that night.

Thinking back to the first day when I had come to the woods, I smiled to myself as I walked along the now-familiar dirt path winding its way through.  My ears did not hear, my eyes did not see the wonder before me.  I was the walking dead. In my mind, I was living in the past, or worried about the future, but had never lived in the moment of “now.” The great eternal moment of now.  The only real thing, where the magic happens.

I came to the little wooden bridge I had crossed many times to get to the river.  I paused. I could feel a transition in the forest was about to take place.  All my senses were tuning in with nature. The sun hung low as if to bow to the coming night. I decided to lay down on the railing of the bridge, which was also wooden, and wide enough for me to do so. Face to the sky, I lay listening to the surrounding sounds of frogs, crickets, cicadas, and the occasional duck chatter.  I took a deep breath in and held it for a second then exhaled slowly. Once again, finding my mind at rest.

The last of the singing birds became quiet as the crickets and cicadas started to sing their part, like one continuous choir everything taking turns singing their song of praise. Above, the sky was turning a deeper shade of blue.  The sun, an orange burning glow. The shadows of trees grew long.  I could feel the night was coming.  Everything around me was preparing for the great shift.  The leaves on the trees turned to face the summer sun and catch the last rays of light.  In stillness, I watched, a point of light appear, one single star flickered as if to announce the start of a show. Then another, the stars blinked on slowly one by one, it was their time now. Like performers taking the stage, the heavenly host of stars began to fill the night sky.

In silence, they bear witness, to the sacred night and the eternal mystery behind all things.  They had witnessed the birth of the earth.  They watched her as she followed the sun across the vastness of space.  They were there to watch the dinosaurs roam.  The building of the great pyramids.  The rise and fall of empires. All had come to take part in the dance of life. My spirit filled with great reverence.  Every night and day was sacred, never to be lived again. How many days had I forgotten, unaware of how precious each one was? 

As I left the wooden bridge, I gave thanks for the day and welcomed the night.  I could hear the trees once in a while, swaying.  I reached out and touched one.  The bark felt coarse between my fingers.  Each tree had its own story of how it came to be.  Maybe a hundred years ago a squirrel planted a nut and forgot about it.  Only they knew, these magnificent trees of old. I wondered if the ancestors of the squirrel that planted this tree were now nesting in it. 

Like a guiding light, the moonlit up the dirt path that led through the forest to the river.  But moonlight was not the only one to light my way.  To my left, through the trees, I saw a little flash of light.    Then another one.  Then I noticed all around me through the trees like a gathering of fairies dancing. The fireflies had awakened.  To my right, in the meadow, they glittered and sparkled between the flowers.  In the distance, I could hear the gentle rumble of the river.  Everything in the forest went to her to drink.  She had ascended to the heavens and back again in the form of rain.  All creatures, great and small, drank from her.  What stories could she tell?

 Pressing on, I looked up through the dark silhouette of tree branches.  I could see the stars peeping through.  I marveled at the expanse of the night sky.  I witnessed it as it witnessed me.  I was glad to be a part of the book of life.

I had watched as the river had taken on different forms during the changing of the seasons; I watched as she had slowly turned to ice as winter approached.  I watched as she thawed, and chunks of ice broke free-floating on to unknown destinations.  In spring, the river would swell with the melting snow.  She moved quickly. It seemed all around me everything was waking up and excited for summer’s return.  Budding of flowers that once laid dormant under blankets of snow, now lifted their faces to the sun and bloomed.  Squirrels and chipmunks foraged for nuts.  Butterflies and bumblebees pollinated meadow flowers.  The birds were joyfully singing, calling to each other from tree branches.  Migrating birds were returning to the forest, finding a place to nest.   The miracle of life was all around me and I was just a part of it.  I sat quietly in wonder, in the stillness of the day marveling at it all.  Everything was waking from a deep sleep, including me.