Evening enlightenment leads to wonder
Coming through our back gate, I felt like I was crashing a very festive, colorful party. It was the time of day the sun was about to say goodnight, taking the light with it.
But before it totally left, the fireflies had come out from their hiding places to celebrate. They didn’t really need a reason to shine, but as I parked my car and got out, I sure was glad they had!
Flitting in and about the trees and shrubbery, they were entertaining themselves and me. I stood in amazement watching their every move like I had the best seat in the house at a sold-out light show extravaganza. But that wasn’t the case -- I was just at the right place at the right time.
I quickly headed back in my mind to being a small boy and reminisced about the hours I spent chasing and trying to catch lightning bugs. Any abandoned jar served as the perfect vessel to secure the tiny creatures for closer inspection.
My childhood memories continued dancing around in my head as I stood transfixed. Then a feeling came over me that rarely does these days -- a sense of wonder.
As daylight finally surrendered to nightfall, the fireflies disappeared as quickly as they came, leaving our backyard in a quiet darkness. Disappointed the light show was over, I headed toward our house -- but not before once again wondering how a flying insect could possibly light up the night sky.
Entering our back door, I remained baffled.
My attention was diverted to a television in one of our rooms that was set on a news channel. Strife and commotion was being sent through the air waves in real time and in high definition.
Someone gunned down here, another attacked there; the reporter barely took a breath between stories, each one worse than the one before. I immediately attempted to turn it off before it spoiled the wonderful mood the fireflies had graciously shared with me.
Unfortunately, in an instant, my playful mood had been infiltrated with negativity and demonstrations of evil. I became sad.
As I stood in the silence, I continued to mull over moments from my childhood that evoked wonder. Some questions came to the surface: At what point do we give up childlike wonder? Did it just leave without notice or depart slowly over a period of time?
Could it be because we seldom slow down long enough to experience the kind of amazement that leaves us spellbound and held completely captive in awe?
It is such a fantastic feeling, I thought to myself. Why did we let it go?
Maybe what happened to our ability to stand in a state of wonder was replaced with a different kind of awe. We are constantly bombarded with the kinds of images that leave us sad, worried and with a sense of hopelessness. We are exposed to all kinds of negativity that is more depressing than inspiring.
I suppose that is why I spend so much of my time creating beauty. Maybe without knowing it, I’m trying to replace the bad things with things that make people smile. Sometimes the mission I’m on seems like I’m swimming upstream, but I continue to try any way.
I’d rather my days be filled with creating positive things than bogged down with strife, destruction and upheaval.
I guess you would say I’d rather choose wonder.
My dear mother, whose birthday is today, used to tell me something on an almost daily basis that has remained with me even though she’s been gone more than 20 years. Any time I felt down, disillusioned or hopeless, she would ask me, “Mark, what’s the alternative?”
She taught me how important it is to choose positivity.
“It won’t always surround you,” Mother would say. “It is at those times you have to look for it. Sometimes it will be hiding, but don’t give up! Positivity is present somewhere.”
How wise she was. All the darkness surrounding us often makes it difficult to see the positive things. Looking around, try as we might, sometimes no positives are readily available.
Other times, on those special days, they come to us without notice. They fly in with fluttering wings and light up the darkness to remind us that they are still out there, waiting to brighten up the dusk.
Mark Ballard’s column runs each week in The Telegraph. Send your questions or comments to P.O. Box 4232, Macon, GA 31208; call 478-757-6877; email markballard@cox.net; or become a subscriber to Mark’s Facebook page.
This story was originally published July 5, 2015 at 12:00 AM with the headline "Evening enlightenment leads to wonder ."