Last night, in a circle of friends that are quite older and definitely more adventurous than we are, we spoke upon the life of the world and it's incessant need to be wowed. As we impatiently wait for the wow (the miracle), we completely miss the wow and the beauty of the wait as the wow unfolds.
Are we not wowed anymore? Are we so plagued by the daily grind that we miss the miraculous? I wonder.
We visited New York earlier this year and stopped in at O Cafe near the Jefferson Market Library to have Finnish Sandwiches and a Kenyan over pour and I remember, in great detail, the sandwich, the coffee, the steady drizzle of the rain creating a dense fog that crept along the sidewalk as calm and steady gazed pedestrians and their pets made their way into the cafe and into the bagel shop near to us.
I didn't miss the woman feeding her little one nor did I miss the man sitting straight faced listening to something in his earbuds audible only to him. When we left New York, I couldn't stop talking about the incredible height that we reached as we climbed the narrow stairwell up to the Jefferson Market rooftop where the huge bell hung not yet rung. I was wowed by that moment overlooking Manhattan and her monuments of tall skyscrapers and ant like yellow taxi cabs.
I missed the wow at the O Cafe. I missed the story of the single mother who made her way to the cafe to purchase an espresso for her boss as she contemplated quitting that job to become a writer. I missed that one. I even missed the story of the woman who sang opera in the subway utilizing the acoustics of the tunnel while singing of her plight in the city of Detroit where she had just escaped being homeless. I missed it.
How many times have I missed being wowed? This is something I'm still working on as a human being. I need to stop waiting for it and start being quiet enough to notice it.
#writingeverydayinAugust #bewowed
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