On a timeless summer afternoon when I was ten, I lay on my back on the lawn and gazed at the sky. Feathery white clouds drifted lazily across the clear, brilliant blue. As I stared, I began to feel dizzy, and a tickling sensation teased my stomach--the kind of feeling one has just before the climax of a carnival ride or upon suddenly looking down from a great height. It seemed as if I were looking down instead of up--that the blue of the sky was the ocean far below me, and the clouds were islands, and I was slowly falling toward them.
Our world today is so filled with action and sound bytes. We seem to feel that in order to truly live, every moment must be spent in some kind of activity or competition, in both work and play. What ever happened to the silent moments, the solitary contemplative moments? Are we afraid of losing the momentum of our lives if we just stop for a moment to think and to wonder?
One can feel awe in simply taking the time to look up. See the patterns of leaves as treetops sway in the breeze. Enjoy the contrast of countless shades of green against an azure background. Look for faces and shapes in the clouds. Wait for graceful dances of flight from birds and butterflies. Listen to the different sounds the wind makes as it sifts through deciduous trees or conifers. Let your mind wander where it will.
Had I not looked up, I would not have seen the silent aerial spirals of a flock of pelicans; I would not have seen the clouds that looked like dancers or overlords; at night, had I not looked up, I would have missed the shooting stars, and--using a telescope--I would not have experienced the awe of seeing the rings of Saturn through my own eyes.
As young children, we are encouraged to use our imaginations, to dream. When we get older, we are often scolded for daydreaming. I believe that some daydreaming is essential to us no matter what age we are. On more than one occasion, I have advised my children: it's all right to have your head in the clouds now and then--as long as your feet are on the ground. After all, aren't poems and stories, art and philosophies, inventions and advances the blossoms from the seeds of daydreams?
Writing this, I am sitting in solitude in my backyard. The sounds that accompany my contemplation include bird chirps, waterfall, a soft whisper of breeze through ashes and pines. Looking up, I see the treetops washed in the gold of the setting sun. How gracefully the branches sweep against a cloudless, evening-blue sky. I encourage anyone--particularly young people--to NOT be afraid or mistrustful of solitude and silence. Lean back, look up, and daydream. Fill your cup with wonder.
