I wonder …
I wonder where it all begun. Was there ever a trail that brought me to some hiding place when I was a child? Or some mystic revelation that shone through me enriching my spirit and leaving me oblivious of what had happened but at the same time, condemning me to a constant search for other revelations?
I remember when I saw whales for the first time, in Peninsula Valdes, Patagonia, Argentina. I was a grown man, travelling with my wife, still childless. A child myself, reminiscences of Pinocchio and Jonas and a stupor such as I have never experienced in my life.
When I said: ‘I’ll never forget this’ and it was actually true.
There have been other moments like that. When my first son was born. It’s fully formed fingers grasping the cable that connected my wife to a monitor and that precious moment caught on camera, now a picture in B & W hanging in my office.
The astonishment. The beauty. The revelation of what makes us human. It’s simple, easily forgotten in the hundrum of daily life.
But always present, nevertheless. Like a heartbeat. Like breathing. Like a neural transmission from the brain to your hands, your legs. It turns into movement and we travel through air, time, distance. First we crawl, then we stumble, then we walk, then we run.
Running is only the last piece of an evolution that starts when we are still baby. When we are still capable of stupor at virtually everything.
As we grow, we learn to walk unaided, to run if we need to or out of desire. But the ability to be mesmerised, astonished, lyrically enthused becomes harder to achieve . Sometimes it’s a book or a movie. Or your child’s first smile or first word. The first steps.
The moment we realise we are in love. Strangely, it can also present itself when we are in pain or sorrow.
But how many times did you say: ‘I’ll never forget this’ and it turned out to be true?