Wonderful Wondering

It’s that particular time – you know; ‘The most wonderful time of the year’, when everyone is allowed, positively encouraged, to indulge in wonderment. To revel in the beauty of sparkly lights, the joy of company, the chance for treats and indulgences. Also, a time to consider what we each mean to one another, and the purpose of our being placed, for a whole lifetime, onto this spectacular spinning rock in a mind-boggling universe of vast galaxies and twinkling stars.

I love the festive period for all of the above reasons - it is also a great excuse for a hugely overextravagant cheese board!

I love it because of how I am allowed to spend more time wondering about things. I always need to do more of this.

I have been reminded about this from a number of sources recently. Firstly, I saw a cartoon which depicted two people looking at a beautiful piece of art, with one saying to the other “I didn’t ask you what it meant, I said ‘I wonder what it means’.” I love the lesson in this single sentence story!

The other source was in a book which at first-glance you might not initially think of as having any sense of wonderment or amazement to it; a book called “Die Wise” by Stephen Jenkinson. It is about death, exploring how one might approach a good death, a wise death, a manner of dying that enriches one’s life and those who one will leave behind. It is a scary book; it is a heart-achingly beautiful book. It talks about the wonderfulness of wonder. It asks us to think more of our lives than most of us regularly do. It asks us to be quieter, to gather together and to look up and around us more often. To stand and wonder and bear witness, acknowledge our experiences in the many, tiny and soul-changing micro-wonderments available to us.

These are my words, my interpretation of Stephen Jenkinson’s work, and when I type them, I get in touch with the spaces of my heart – where joy and happiness and contentment reside. These places; I sense they are where the truth of who I am and what I am supposed to be doing in this lifetime may be found – if I take time and attention to wonder and listen.

I have not always taken the time to wonder. Often, I have acted in line with my training – the schooling of our society teaches from an early age to use willpower and effort to ‘punch through’ and make stuff happen. To rely upon intellect, rather than instinct. I was distinctly uncomfortable with ‘unknowns’ and sought to understand everything – to get rid of doubt in order to feel more in control.

In these times I convinced myself that everyone else already did know it all, that their words were absolute truth and should be followed. It made me feel like I had to work harder, be stronger, be better, win the fight (even if I couldn’t explain what the fight was for).

When I couldn’t find an explanation, I was tempted to dismiss or deny the ‘unknown’ thing, because it seemed safer to do this than to acknowledge the alternative; that there are some things which will always remain unknowable.

Nowadays, I don’t fall into this trap so much. I have realised there is a difference between ‘knowing it all’, and ‘constantly seeking deeper truths’. Stephen Jenkinson writes eloquently on this matter. He talks about our modern world’s obsession with material knowledge and challenges this – asking if always finding an answer to the mysteries of the world is healthy for us. For instance, he says, “Resolving mystery is like dissecting someone you love to find out how they got so loveable.” You would obviously kill your loved one if you did this – so what other wonderful, mysterious things, do we inadvertently destroy by tirelessly hunting them down?

Here’s another quote for you – Socractes said “Wisdom begins in wonder.” Which I think is a reminder that being curious, wondering about our existence and seeking deeper meaning is how our souls grow – but only if we are content to remain in partial doubt and never be wholly certain.

Many of the great mystic traditions refer to God, or the creator, as being nameless and unknowable, and should I ever think I have reached the point of knowing him, I have, by definition, not. I may have experienced an emanation or result of God, but this does not mean I know God. My wondering, and seeking, should be unending.

Wondering about stuff is what enables me to write my books – I don’t think it is any coincidence that I began writing my first book at a time when I was experiencing the beginning of a great and deep love with a person who gave me permission to wonder, to ask questions I had previously been too scared to whisper, even to myself during dark solitary evenings. A love with a person who stood beside me back then in those early days and witnessed me and, happily, continues to do so.

The fact that my first book focussed on death and dying as the main experience of the main character is also entirely bound up with my embracing of wondering – for love and death are very closely coupled. If that statement gets you to wondering then perhaps you might consider reading “Die Wise” and if you do, well I would be honoured to witness your experience of it.

In the meantime, though, I hope you have an entirely wonder-full festive time with the absolute best of the seasons’ magic.

Look up and wonder with me.

Rachel x