Wonder
It is from the valley that things look large; it is from the level that things look high; I am a child of the level … I will sit still and let the marvels and the adventures settle on me like flies. There are plenty of them, I assure you. The world will never starve for want of wonders, but only for want of wonder.
- G.K. Chesterton
A couple of weeks ago it was my birthday. The big 2-0. So long teen years, with your angst, your pimples, your petty problems, hello a new world of opportunity. The twenties, if you think about it, are probably some of the best years of your life. You’re young, you’re youthful, and you’re untethered. You aren’t shackled by school, and if you are, it’s of your own choosing. You aren’t shackled by parental restrictions, you’re an adult now, you can do whatever you want to do. Also, you have very little to worry about besides yourself, unless you’ve already tied the knot or are engaged in a serious relationship. Lastly, you’ve more or less figured out who you are. You’re confident in and of yourself, and you feel, perhaps unhealthily, fearless of what the future holds. For me, the twenties represent one word: freedom. All signs point to it being a good decade.
However, the twenties for me has established another sign of my future: blazing cynicism. I’m in university, with its self-righteous academics. I see the church at large, with some self-righteous theologians (as opposed to theologians who know their righteousness only comes from the Lord). They are all right in your face, their faults glaring before you. You’re also hit with a barrage of media, with its thousand different voices. These voices sometimes whisper to you through the words of a song, or scream at in you in an angry article. Hate, love, sorrow, bitterness, joy are everywhere, and they’re made easier to see with the easy access of the internet. Sometimes I think the most attractive thing about “being online” is that you get to experience an emotional roller coaster every time you go on. Instead of relating feelings to each other, we dump it online for others to see, either for pity, for argument, or because we are achingly lonely. This is what draws to me to the uneducated Youtube comments, to the blogs, to the impassioned Facebook posts of news atrocities. The emotion behind them is real, and it’s fascinating. However, seeing so much of it everyday leaves a person numb, like a finger that has lost all feeling because of a relentless chill. What I’m left with is a constant sort of apathy, which is a frightening thing. Apathy is one thing I have never had a problem with, but I’m talking less about apathy towards other people and their troubles, and more about apathy towards the magical, to the wondrous.
I remember the first day I saw the Lord of the Rings. The first PG-13 movie I ever watched was Spiderman (good old Tobey Maguire, in case you forget how incredibly attractive Tobey is when crying, just look at the picture below):
The next was Lord of the Rings, and I was super excited. I hadn’t read the books, but I was going anyways because my dad seemed super pumped about it, and I thought it would be awesome. I went into the theatre, and came out of it a changed 8 year old boy. I found myself a random stick (probably from outside) and immediately set about slaying orcs like a much more youthful and browner Aragorn son of Arathorn, complete with the sound effects and the cries of my falling enemies. I had never ever experienced a movie like that before, a movie that so captured my imagination that I had to live it out, every single day. Believe me, I did, ask my mother. I would also jump to the computer and write stories upon stories, of my brave adventures in some other realm, destroying my enemies with the help of my friends, a blade, and perhaps a little magic. In the end, after much trial and tribulation, the heroes inevitably won, all inspired by Lord of the Rings of course. However, for me the most amazing thing was the world of Middle-Earth. As I watched the movie, from the Shire to Rivendell, I was impressed. But once the fellowship reached the Mines of Moria, I was floored. I still remember seeing the massive hall of Moria, with pillars bigger than redwood trees supporting it. The goblins crawling out from the ceiling, the troll smashing through Balin’s tomb. Also, who could forget the battle between Gandalf and the Balrog, complete with the great wizard’s transcendent line:
The sheer scale of the world of Middle-Earth inspired absolute, and unadulterated wonderwithin me. All I could do was sit back and say wow. Ever since then, I became a child of wonder, looking for things that awed me. In fact, the first thing that really hit me about the nature of God is his scale. He is so big, and so beyond my understanding that it hurt my head, and it was the first thing about God that really brought me to my knees. At first, it wasn’t his love, or his faithfulness, but rather his vastness that made me want to know him more. He inspires wonder in me like nothing else I could ever experience in this world.
Fast forward to now. I’ve seen countless movies, read countless books. What once made me sit back and say wow, I can sit back and say that I’ve seen better, mostly because of the reasons I listed above. Around the weekend of my birthday, I watched two movies, Monster’s University and Pacific Rim. Here’s the trailers for both, just in case you’ve forgotten or are unaware of what they’re about:
I watched Monster’s University, and watched as a cute little Mike Wazowski (voiced endearingly by the timeless Billy Crystal) dreamed of being the scariest monster he could be. I watched Pacific Rim, and let boyish excitement fill me as massive machines picked up cruise liners to wallop otherworldly leviathans in the ruins of a city. I haven’t enjoyed two movies like that it a long time. I was reminded of the creativity behind Monster’s University and Monsters Inc.; I mean, who would have ever thought of monsters needing children’s screams for energy to support their world? Genius. I was also reminded of wonder, as Pacific Rim showed me how a big, bad machine and monster movie should be. All of a sudden, I realized something something very important.
I’d forgotten how to wonder. I’d forgotten how to be in awe. Seeing these movies triggered that again for me, and its something I don’t want to lose again. As my twenties carry on, I don’t want to be stuck in the muck and mire of having seen it all before. Believe me, it’s so incredibly easy to not be impressed by the things around you. A generation like ours has seen it all before. In fact, its frustrating, because you know you want to be in awe, but you’re so numb to everything that you’re hit with that you simply can’t feel. It’s like you’ve come in from that cold winter’s day, furiously shaking your frozen digits to get feeling back into them, although they remain as unresponsive as before. The movies triggered that for me, but it doesn’t for everybody, and there lies the problem. How do we stay curious, how do we remain in awe?
I saw the quote from G.K. Chesterton today, and it echoed so much of what I’ve been thinking about for the past few weeks. I posted it above, but I’ll post again right here:
It is from the valley that things look large; it is from the level that things look high; I am a child of the level … I will sit still and let the marvels and the adventures settle on me like flies. There are plenty of them, I assure you. The world will never starve for want of wonders, but only for want of wonder.
Wonder isn’t something that’s over the next horizon. It’s something that I discover when I decide to sit back and “let the marvels and adventures settle on me like flies.” I’m reminded of the movie American Beauty, with its famous movie poster, which had the tagline, Look Closer. It’s about a middle class family in the suburbs, who from the outside seem normal. But once you look closer, you see levels of pain, sorrow and loneliness that couldn’t be seen by just looking at the surface. The people and the things around you are complex, and once you delve deeper into them, you find they are inexplicably beautiful.
I’m making it my goal throughout my twenties to no longer be satisfied with seeing everything and wishing for more. I don’t want to sit in my room at Conrad Grebel University College and wish I was somewhere more exotic. I don’t want to wish I was halfway around the world saving children from being trafficked into the sex trade. I want to sit back, and appreciate deeply all that I have around me. In the end, the wonders I search for aren’t distant peaks to be climbed, they’re sitting right under my nose. That’s how I want to live, by seeking out these wonders. Happy 20th year of life Nate Dawg.
Not entirely sure if it’s socially acceptable to refer to yourself as Nate Dawg, but I hope we can just let that one slide this one time.
It is from the valley that things look large; it is from the level that things look high; I am a child of the level … I will sit still and let the marvels and the adventures settle on me like flies. There are plenty of them, I assure you. The world will never starve for want of wonders, but only for want of wonder.
- G.K. Chesterton
A couple of weeks ago it was my birthday. The big 2-0. So long teen years, with your angst, your pimples, your petty problems, hello a new world of opportunity. The twenties, if you think about it, are probably some of the best years of your life. You’re young, you’re youthful, and you’re untethered. You aren’t shackled by school, and if you are, it’s of your own choosing. You aren’t shackled by parental restrictions, you’re an adult now, you can do whatever you want to do. Also, you have very little to worry about besides yourself, unless you’ve already tied the knot or are engaged in a serious relationship. Lastly, you’ve more or less figured out who you are. You’re confident in and of yourself, and you feel, perhaps unhealthily, fearless of what the future holds. For me, the twenties represent one word: freedom. All signs point to it being a good decade.
However, the twenties for me has established another sign of my future: blazing cynicism. I’m in university, with its self-righteous academics. I see the church at large, with some self-righteous theologians (as opposed to theologians who know their righteousness only comes from the Lord). They are all right in your face, their faults glaring before you. You’re also hit with a barrage of media, with its thousand different voices. These voices sometimes whisper to you through the words of a song, or scream at in you in an angry article. Hate, love, sorrow, bitterness, joy are everywhere, and they’re made easier to see with the easy access of the internet. Sometimes I think the most attractive thing about “being online” is that you get to experience an emotional roller coaster every time you go on. Instead of relating feelings to each other, we dump it online for others to see, either for pity, for argument, or because we are achingly lonely. This is what draws to me to the uneducated Youtube comments, to the blogs, to the impassioned Facebook posts of news atrocities. The emotion behind them is real, and it’s fascinating. However, seeing so much of it everyday leaves a person numb, like a finger that has lost all feeling because of a relentless chill. What I’m left with is a constant sort of apathy, which is a frightening thing. Apathy is one thing I have never had a problem with, but I’m talking less about apathy towards other people and their troubles, and more about apathy towards the magical, to the wondrous.
I remember the first day I saw the Lord of the Rings. The first PG-13 movie I ever watched was Spiderman (good old Tobey Maguire, in case you forget how incredibly attractive Tobey is when crying, just look at the picture below):
The next was Lord of the Rings, and I was super excited. I hadn’t read the books, but I was going anyways because my dad seemed super pumped about it, and I thought it would be awesome. I went into the theatre, and came out of it a changed 8 year old boy. I found myself a random stick (probably from outside) and immediately set about slaying orcs like a much more youthful and browner Aragorn son of Arathorn, complete with the sound effects and the cries of my falling enemies. I had never ever experienced a movie like that before, a movie that so captured my imagination that I had to live it out, every single day. Believe me, I did, ask my mother. I would also jump to the computer and write stories upon stories, of my brave adventures in some other realm, destroying my enemies with the help of my friends, a blade, and perhaps a little magic. In the end, after much trial and tribulation, the heroes inevitably won, all inspired by Lord of the Rings of course. However, for me the most amazing thing was the world of Middle-Earth. As I watched the movie, from the Shire to Rivendell, I was impressed. But once the fellowship reached the Mines of Moria, I was floored. I still remember seeing the massive hall of Moria, with pillars bigger than redwood trees supporting it. The goblins crawling out from the ceiling, the troll smashing through Balin’s tomb. Also, who could forget the battle between Gandalf and the Balrog, complete with the great wizard’s transcendent line:
The sheer scale of the world of Middle-Earth inspired absolute, and unadulterated wonderwithin me. All I could do was sit back and say wow. Ever since then, I became a child of wonder, looking for things that awed me. In fact, the first thing that really hit me about the nature of God is his scale. He is so big, and so beyond my understanding that it hurt my head, and it was the first thing about God that really brought me to my knees. At first, it wasn’t his love, or his faithfulness, but rather his vastness that made me want to know him more. He inspires wonder in me like nothing else I could ever experience in this world.
Fast forward to now. I’ve seen countless movies, read countless books. What once made me sit back and say wow, I can sit back and say that I’ve seen better, mostly because of the reasons I listed above. Around the weekend of my birthday, I watched two movies, Monster’s University and Pacific Rim. Here’s the trailers for both, just in case you’ve forgotten or are unaware of what they’re about:
I watched Monster’s University, and watched as a cute little Mike Wazowski (voiced endearingly by the timeless Billy Crystal) dreamed of being the scariest monster he could be. I watched Pacific Rim, and let boyish excitement fill me as massive machines picked up cruise liners to wallop otherworldly leviathans in the ruins of a city. I haven’t enjoyed two movies like that it a long time. I was reminded of the creativity behind Monster’s University and Monsters Inc.; I mean, who would have ever thought of monsters needing children’s screams for energy to support their world? Genius. I was also reminded of wonder, as Pacific Rim showed me how a big, bad machine and monster movie should be. All of a sudden, I realized something something very important.
I’d forgotten how to wonder. I’d forgotten how to be in awe. Seeing these movies triggered that again for me, and its something I don’t want to lose again. As my twenties carry on, I don’t want to be stuck in the muck and mire of having seen it all before. Believe me, it’s so incredibly easy to not be impressed by the things around you. A generation like ours has seen it all before. In fact, its frustrating, because you know you want to be in awe, but you’re so numb to everything that you’re hit with that you simply can’t feel. It’s like you’ve come in from that cold winter’s day, furiously shaking your frozen digits to get feeling back into them, although they remain as unresponsive as before. The movies triggered that for me, but it doesn’t for everybody, and there lies the problem. How do we stay curious, how do we remain in awe?
I saw the quote from G.K. Chesterton today, and it echoed so much of what I’ve been thinking about for the past few weeks. I posted it above, but I’ll post again right here:
It is from the valley that things look large; it is from the level that things look high; I am a child of the level … I will sit still and let the marvels and the adventures settle on me like flies. There are plenty of them, I assure you. The world will never starve for want of wonders, but only for want of wonder.
Wonder isn’t something that’s over the next horizon. It’s something that I discover when I decide to sit back and “let the marvels and adventures settle on me like flies.” I’m reminded of the movie American Beauty, with its famous movie poster, which had the tagline, Look Closer. It’s about a middle class family in the suburbs, who from the outside seem normal. But once you look closer, you see levels of pain, sorrow and loneliness that couldn’t be seen by just looking at the surface. The people and the things around you are complex, and once you delve deeper into them, you find they are inexplicably beautiful.
I’m making it my goal throughout my twenties to no longer be satisfied with seeing everything and wishing for more. I don’t want to sit in my room at Conrad Grebel University College and wish I was somewhere more exotic. I don’t want to wish I was halfway around the world saving children from being trafficked into the sex trade. I want to sit back, and appreciate deeply all that I have around me. In the end, the wonders I search for aren’t distant peaks to be climbed, they’re sitting right under my nose. That’s how I want to live, by seeking out these wonders. Happy 20th year of life Nate Dawg.
Not entirely sure if it’s socially acceptable to refer to yourself as Nate Dawg, but I hope we can just let that one slide this one time.