On Wonder

I'm not sure if it makes any sense, but I try to cultivate wonder. When I walk along the creek that runs near my home, I say hello to some of the trees I pass. I also thank the spirit of the creek for showing me its beauty and wisdom: the water gliding past rocks, the dappled sunlight through the wattles, the swallows and willy wagtails flitting about the path.

Wonder is a precious thing that liberates and enlivens. It's an open-hearted attitude of innocence that, when its thread is followed in depth can lead to big questions like: Who am I? How can I bring more quality into my life? In our secular, materialist society where experience of life is narrowed by denial of the numinous, transcendent aspects of being, we are forced to seek out and snatch moments of wonder where we can. Often we go to nature - a weekend in the mountains, a holiday by the beach, or we might choose to live in a place with an inspiring view.

Talking to trees and land spirits might seem crazy, but until recent times the experience of the sacred, contained in a multitude of religions across many cultures, was the dominant way. And it had been so since the dawn of history. It is not abnormal today for an indigenous person, say someone from Australia, to walk in a particular place and feel the spirits talking to them. Yet in the dominant Western culture, any similar response would be seen as a throwback to the superstition of the dark ages.

The loss of wonder, the experience of the sacred, has had a devastating impact on our world. Large-scale destruction of nature and cultures has been the result as greed and commercialism have become primary human goals. A return of a sense of sacredness must be part of the road back to a healthy relationship with the planet and ourselves as we face the enormous ecological and social challenges of the 21st century.

The first step has to be an acceptance of the non-rational aspects of mind and being. There are many ways in which pseudo-religious experience breaks into profane Western society - for example in war remembrance services, attended by thousands of people, which are highly ritualised and steeped in myth. The decisive move is to embrace that which may not fit into a rationalist norm but nevertheless feels right. There's usually no sense of shame or embarrassment when, for instance, someone directly addresses a loved one who has just died in a speech at a funeral. Spirits are real, just not in a scientific, rationalist sense.

The sacred, often through ritual, can deeply enrich a person's life. I think of the words of American mythologist Joseph Campbell in his book, Oriental Mythology (Penguin Compass, 1991) when he describes the rites of the ancient Japanese religion of Shinto as occasions "for the recognition and evocation of an awe that inspires gratitude to the source and nature of being". He tells how a Shinto shrine ceremony, with ritualised priestly intonation, music and dance, enlivens and deepens a person's sense of the world:

"One turns again and looks at the rocks, the pines, the air and sea, and they are as silent as before. Only now they are inhabited, and one is aware anew of the wonder of the universe."