With easy access to technology and information at our fingertips, wonder -- a flight of passion and mind -- seems to have had its wings clipped.
From the moment we get the first stirrings of wonder to the explanation, facts, and opinions of others we find with a few simple keystrokes, we no longer linger in wonder. And I, who likes, no, needs to know and understand everything right away, am sadly adept at shortcutting the experience of wonder in my quest to just know.
So, in contemplation of “wonder” and writing the first of these “wonderings,” I tossed aside all the notes and definitions I had gathered and stacked in front of me. I had been collecting other people’s words and opinions for months, looking to find the perfect overview of the rich and elusive concept; but to make it something concretely held in words seemed contrary to wonder itself.
I sat down in my quiet space, lit a candle, and meditated. I asked my own subconscious mind to offer me some words, three to be exact, from which to start this piece of writing on wonder. After a fair amount of mind static, the three words popped up. Wonder. Light. Roses. Okay. I went with it. I searched my mind for a connection, or dissonance, as to what these three words could say or mean to help me write of wonder today. Nothing at first. And then, so many possibilities. I overwhelmed myself wondering which of the possibilities made the most sense. And then I caved. I regressed. I consulted the internet.
Most of the first few pages of hits showed roses for sale, the wonder of roses, and the right kind of light to grow roses. But then I saw a page on the history and meaning of lavender roses. I had never seen or heard of lavender roses and was awed by the majestic beauty they offered. Related to the blue rose, which is actually blue-to-violet in pigmentation and therefore does not exist in nature as true blue, it is often associated with the meaning of mystery. That these roses also supposedly represent wonder and impossibility was perfect.
Satisfied with my online search for wonder based on the three words, and subsequent discovery of a gorgeous shade of rose to write about, I nearly closed out of the page when a separate link caught my eye: a blog entry on Smorgastata, Swedish sandwich cakes. What?! Having never heard of these delectable cakes, I clicked on a picture of these “cakes” exquisitely decorated with herbs and vegetable roses. As it turns out, the savory layers of breads and spreads -- with added vegetable or nut texture -- are fairly simple (and creative) to make. So, I will be heading to the store for ingredients soon.
In mourning, and whining, about the loss of wonder due to the internet’s speedy delivery of information, I have found delicious surprises that have actually stimulated more wonder. Where can I get a lavender rose? And what can I put in a sandwich cake? My discoveries today will not likely elicit the same degree of joy or awe in the existence of lavender roses and sandwich cake (should I stumble across them again elsewhere in life), for wonder is invoked by the unexpected, the unfamiliar, or the inexplicable. And contrary to my own thoughts, the internet can, and often does, return us to wonder.