The Silent Companion

My son and I sat on a small dock floating on Lake Anna, and he asked the question. It’s the question every person should be able to ask, but can’t Life circumstances don’t afford every one the opportunity to wonder. The question was: Dad, why is this so moving, this setting? Why do we feel a sense of calm when looking at something like this?

It’s the question that not everyone can ask; not those in slums or sterile neighborhoods, not those in Gaza or prisons or the wreckage of life. Maybe it is that not everyone, given their circumstances, has the opportunity to stand in a moment that is conducive to wonder. But, the question: why? Why does this move me so deeply?

I responded: the question is the answer to your question. We stand in awe, dumbstruck by the moment so that we can become conscious of the moment itself. Breathtaking, beautiful or barren, these insightful moments are like walking into another room, a room we didn’t know existed, and being surprised by wonder, by Wonder. These moments come for the sake of that moment. The alarm clock goes off inside everyone, but not everyone hears it. The whisper in your ear, the quiet presence of a dear friend; birth, death and lots of moments inbetween afford the possibility of asking: Why am I moved like this? What thrills me, or excites me, or calms me so right now?

The answer to the question is in the question. I wish you could have been there on the dock with the two of us. I wish you could have been there to wonder. Not every question has an answer. Sometimes the deep value of a moment is the moment itself. Wonder is everywhere, the silent companion whose name is Mystery.