Wonder
At the beginning of this month I spent some weeks on a somewhat remote island.
One sunny afternoon I had grabbed an ice cream and was sitting by the beach on a low wall, listening to the somewhat out of tune singing of a busker. Families were swimming, enjoying the sun, or just walking along the seaside.
And in between all the mundanity, another equally mundane thing really caught my attention:
a little girl, around 1-2 years old, was playing in the mud next to the showers on the beach. She was giggling and smiling widely, rolling in the puddles and getting it all over her fresh, white clothes.
Seeing her like this was an absolute delight. What carefreeness. The little, happy giggles! No worry in the world, a world that to her at this point in time must have seemed wonderful, generous, and just.
And then the thought popped into my mind: what will her parents say, when they see her like this? Will this upset them? This for sure would pose some work and effort for them, washing the clothes, getting her showered and cleaned up.
And then the next thought: is this little girl really doing anything wrong? Why would the clothes be more precious than this moment? When did the routine take the joy and the sparkles out of every single, beautifully unique moment? When did we lose our sense of wonder?
When we grow up and are taught that actions have consequences? When to fit in you have to act like a grown up, pay your taxes, and wash your own clothes.
You would never see an adult rolling in the mud, laughing obliviously, smearing themselves with dirt. "These clothes cost me my hard-earned money!" - they would say. And: "What would the other people think!?"
I noticed that I have to a large degree lost my sense of wonder. You learn to cope. When you go about your life you realize that things seem to just... "be". "Be" as in "exist".
The vacations just kind of "are", a break between the busy and hectic months of work, between letters from your bank and the odd, unfriendly neighbors that never greet you in the hallway.
The warm sunny day kind of simply "is". There probably will be another sunny day tomorrow and if not, probably next week. The ice cream you are having is alright. But just that: alright. "I have had better".
For this year, I want to be more reflective. I want to reconnect with that lost sense of wonder, with my inner child. Seeing the world through the eyes of that little girl on the beach. Forgetting about the worries, and the grocery store's closing times, and all the consequences. Not weighing experiences against one another or hunting for the next great, exciting, refreshingly novel thing. It is the realization that what we have and who we are is enough, and it is plenty. And all around us, at all times, there is something beautiful to wonder about.