In an effort to continually "attend to wonder" despite the endless obligations of daily life, I go hiking in the South Mountain Reservation often. Today, the asters, boneset, goldenrod, and snakeroot were all in bloom. And if you know where to look, you can find mapleleaf vibernum and hobblebushes filled with drupes. If only I could be out in the woods every day! But even a brief walk through my garden helps keep wonder flowing.
I also like the discussion about Oliver's "Authors" (Emerson, etc.).
"So here I am walking down the sandy path with my wild body, with the inherited devotions of curiosity and respect. The moment is full of such exquisite interest as Fabre or Flaubert would have been utterly alive to. Yes, it is a din of voices that I hear, and they do not all say the same thing. But the fit of thoughtfulness unites them.
Who are they? For me they are Shelley, and Fabre, and Wordsworth-the young Wordsworth-and Barbara Ward, and Blake, and Basho, Maeterlinck and Jastrow, and sweetest Emerson, and Carson, and Aldo Leopold. Forebears, models, spirits whose influence and teachings I am now inseparable from, and forever grateful for. I go nowhere, I arrive nowhere, without them. With them I live my life, with them I enter the event, I mold the meditation, I keep if I can some essence of the hour, even as it slips away."
In an effort to continually "attend to wonder" despite the endless obligations of daily life, I go hiking in the South Mountain Reservation often. Today, the asters, boneset, goldenrod, and snakeroot were all in bloom. And if you know where to look, you can find mapleleaf vibernum and hobblebushes filled with drupes. If only I could be out in the woods every day! But even a brief walk through my garden helps keep wonder flowing.
Great episode. i liked the part about Wordsworth and "wonder and terror". it reminded me of Annie Dillard's Pilgrim at Tinker Creek
https://www.amazon.com/Pilgrim-Tinker-Harper-Perennial-Classics/dp/0061233323
I also like the discussion about Oliver's "Authors" (Emerson, etc.).
"So here I am walking down the sandy path with my wild body, with the inherited devotions of curiosity and respect. The moment is full of such exquisite interest as Fabre or Flaubert would have been utterly alive to. Yes, it is a din of voices that I hear, and they do not all say the same thing. But the fit of thoughtfulness unites them.
Who are they? For me they are Shelley, and Fabre, and Wordsworth-the young Wordsworth-and Barbara Ward, and Blake, and Basho, Maeterlinck and Jastrow, and sweetest Emerson, and Carson, and Aldo Leopold. Forebears, models, spirits whose influence and teachings I am now inseparable from, and forever grateful for. I go nowhere, I arrive nowhere, without them. With them I live my life, with them I enter the event, I mold the meditation, I keep if I can some essence of the hour, even as it slips away."