Innocent Wonder

It’s crisp now in the morning, the sky still deathly dark but we’re showered with thousands of pinpricks of starlight through the night’s curtain. Orion in the southern sky overhead means the season has turned once more, this time towards the slowing down and turning back inside of autumn and as sure as the slowly breaking dawn on the eastern horizon, the silence of winter beyond. A risk of frost they say, but they seem to think we all reside near the airport where the forecast originates and not in geometric lines of houses in the suburbs far removed from the openness and flatness of fields and runways. The car windows are heavy with the coming morning’s dew, but it hasn’t frozen into that elaborate film of crystals that dances away so quickly when you turn up the airflow to the windshield defrost.

A jacket is comfort again, not a stifling bother, and gloves are now optional, edging closer to necessity – especially for me and my shortened finger – it likes to remind me of its presence on mornings like this, intolerant of cold for the first while, like many of us here, but soon enough it too will have become accustomed to the changes.

I’m out watering the newly poured garage slab, helping slow the hydration of the chemical reaction that is new concrete, allowing it to gain as much strength as slowly as it can – the cooler temps have slowed the process to a crawl, and frost and the ice crystals it brings are a worst case scenario for concrete this green, causing the as-yet unbonded water within the mix to expand and stress the young crystalline structure of the hardening slab. A lack of moisture will stop the curing process as well, and if that happens the final product will not have as much strength as it could have, and cracks are more likely to form sooner under loading. And so I water a few times throughout the day for the first week, keeping the surface moistened and the hydration process continuing as long as possible.

Yes, the scientist in me is alive and well this early fall morning, protecting my investment and planning the remainder of the project with one eye on the calendar and the other on the weather forecast. The days are getting much shorter again, the sun falling out of the sky after dinner now, and more hesitant to return each morning. But confident in the amount of work required to get us weather tight before the first snowfall, I’m at peace with it all. Contented.

The windows for the renovation arrived yesterday, and got unloaded and slid into the existing garage to live with the new front door for a while, getting to know each other better before being thrust into a lifelong partnership to keep the elements of nature out, but the goodness of the sunlight in. It marks another milestone in the project, and its one more checkmark on the list of things still to do.

Life has a checklist like that, though we never get to see it or decide what items get placed on the list. A twisted, cosmic scavenger hunt without a list of items to find. And you go along living your life, minding your own business, making a living, raising a family, being a good citizen and then one day you’ve arrived at the end of your list, and that’s it.

You’re done.

Game over.

But you never saw it coming. You had no warning.

This bothers many people. They need to be in control. They need to know exactly what they should be doing right now, right this very instant, what they should be doing, and maybe more importantly, what they shouldn’t be doing. And those people also like to know what you’re doing right now too, and seem to delight in telling you that you’re not doing it right, whatever it is. They scurry nervously, anxiously about, like frenzied ants around an opened anthill, flitting from task to task, stressed and stressing those around them with their uncertain certainty, and their repetitive habits and their pessimistic attitudes.

They didn’t start that way. No, they started out like everyone else, an innocent child, possessing no bad habits or attitudes at all, a young mind and soul ready to be molded and nurtured and shown the wonders of the world.

And then fate stepped in. The formless mind began to collect knowledge and learn from its surroundings and from its relationships and close encounters with other young minds and it developed patterns of behavior that served it at the time. And over time these habits and patterns of behavior were either supported or rebuked by the world around this mind, and ties strengthened to certain ideals, while others were left to wither away, their lessons forgotten. And so the young mind and soul begin to see their world differently from the other young minds and souls around them, differently than from anyone around them, though they believe all others view the world much like they do, with similar lenses and distortions; a commonality necessary for community. Though each is independently creating their own reality, their own version of history, each to suit their own purposes and lives ahead; similar, yet different. They long for connection with each other, to be part of something larger, isolated within that community.

It’s a search that will lead them in many different directions over time, into new connections with new minds and souls, new stories and histories to learn from and share. Some minds and souls take to this newness with ease, immersing themselves in the challenges of new beginnings, soaking up the changes and differences, adding something of themselves to their world; co-creating their future.

Others resist the changes and newness, longing for the safety and familiarity of the past; the known is comforting and secure; the unknown a dangerous, dark abyss, where worry and anxiety are the only comforts. Distrust and scorn protect the weary mind and soul, building barriers to connection, isolating them further; the want and the need for commonality and connection now at odds with the safety and survival of the soul. And so they flitter about, testing the boundaries with nervous anticipation of the worst, never hoping for the best, certain that failure is just around the bend. The vastness of the universe conspires against them.

Life is a mystery to most people. It doesn’t make much sense. There’s no reason to it – as far as they can tell – why are we here? Where are we going? When will we get there? How will we know? Like the innocent child safely strapped to the car-seat in the backseat of the car, asking questions as the world passes by outside in a blur; a passenger without control over his or her destiny, trusting that the driver knows what’s going on, and where they’re going.

A toddler asking questions, curious, ambitious and then distracted by the Cheerios wedged beside them between their legs and the car-seat. Trusting. Questioning. Seeking understanding, but ultimately, completely contented.