top of page
Laura Handke logo

Simply Authentic...Your Soul Voice is Calling. Cultivate a Sense of Wonder

Writer's picture: Kimberly GenlyKimberly Genly

Cultivate a Sense of Wonder As a child, one has that magical capacity to move among the many eras of the earth; to see the land as an animal does; to experience the sky from the perspective of a flower or a bee; to feel the earth quiver and breathe beneath us; to know a hundred different smells of mud and listen un-self-consciously to the soughing of the trees. –Valerie Andrews, A Passion for this Earth Easy: Turn off the alarm clock. Get in the shower and get ready for work. Work all day. Stop at the grocery store on the way home. Open a bottle of wine. Make dinner. Eat. Do dishes. Watch TV for a couple of hours. Brush your teeth. Set the alarm. Go to bed. Rinse and repeat. Important: Conscientiously cultivate a sense of wonder. That is where authentic joy lies. Not long ago I felt withered up inside creatively, in a rut. For a whole Monday all I did was read Laura Ingalls Wilder books and watch almost two entire movies on the Hallmark Channel. The saving grace was so much snuggle time with cat Lady Jane. That aside, not a compelling day. It was time to shake things up. So, mid-week, I packed my lap-top, got in my car, and went for a drive. Destination: Scotts Mills, a little town of 350 people around 40 miles from here. Why Scotts Mills? I don’t know. Because it popped into my head a while back. I accidentally drove through Scotts Mills years ago, back in August of 1993 (an old photo album reminds me of the time frame), when my best buddy, Nancy, visited from out of state. I took a wrong turn heading from Silver Falls State Park back to Salem and we ended up stopping for lunch at a diner there, a thoroughly unexpected and delightful experience. This trip I got hungry and couldn’t find the diner (it’s probably closed now; the “food cart” advertising sandwiches from the side of an old motorhome only looked mildly appealing) so I didn’t stay as long as I expected. But the experience got me out of my rut and into a sense of wonder – something you’ll not find on-line, playing video games, or in front of the television. I am a big fan of a country drive. The only thing that would have made this one more spectacular is if I hadn’t had to keep my eyes on the road. But I wouldn’t have wanted anyone in the car with me either. No other people, no talk. Just me and the road. That’s what was required this day. I saw horses and goats. A llama farm and alpacas. Many small churches, including this Friends church right in Scotts Mills.

FriendsChurch

I saw vineyards, Christmas tree farms, filbert (hazelnut) orchards. Bushes and trees on one particular farm in every shade from birch pale to eggplant aubergine. Simmental bulls in a pasture on the left side of the road and Hereford heifers with their calves on the right, achingly reminiscent of my childhood landscape in South Dakota. A hawk circled over the highway so low I swear I could almost have touched it if I’d held my left arm up out the window (well, okay, maybe if my arm was twelve feet long.) I made funny noises aloud, I was so drenched with awe and appreciation. All of this without even leaving my car. Until I parked in front of the closed Scotts Mills Community Center and got out and walked around, breathing in the small town essence. I thought, “I could live here.” This would have been a great trip to take on a motorcycle. I have not yet learned to ride one. My lessons in college on a Kawasaki LTD 454 were cut short when I tipped the bike over in a parking lot and bent the kick stand. (The guy I was dating at the time was not happy. That may have been our last date, now that I think about it.) At any rate, I’ve ridden on the back of enough motorcycles (including my brother’s) to say unequivocally life looks different from inside a motorcycle helmet. Pilots will tell you the same from within a Cessna 150. Sailors from the deck. Equestrians from the back of a horse. Photographers from behind the camera lens. Performers from the stage. Gardeners from your knees in the dirt. And…sometimes…all it takes is a 45 minute drive in the country. There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle. –Albert Einstein Authentically Yours, Laura

0 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

Comments


bottom of page