The song goes "Don't ever lose your sense of wonder". I often think that sometimes as we age, we lose our sense of wonder and become complacent to all the joys in our world. We lose our childlike quality to enjoy life to the fullest and allow ourselves to be bogged down by responsibilities and stress.
For me there is an amazing amount of wonder in this beautiful world of ours, if we only take the time to truly appreciate all that there is in so many forms. A Facebook Friend commented she was trying to catch raindrops with her tongue, which made me laugh and then made me think. When was the last time you did that? I watch my children doing it all the time, I sometimes run outside because the feeling of rain on your skin is both startlingly cool but invigorating. My family also think I am nuts that I go and plunge myself into a river on a cold morning when we are camping. When we were children you didn't think about germs, who's looking, or was it the right thing to do. You did and you should still do, just for the sheer enjoyment of it.
I still love stories, I love them more than anything simply because with a story, you can go places in your heart, and mind that you cannot find here in this world with limited eyes, amazing as it is. In your heart, and mind, you can go where-ever you want, this aspect appeals massively to the child in me when the responsibilities of life seem just too much.
The Nonsensical Man:
In a small Village, on the outskirts of a Moor, lived a small man, middle-aged and balding. He lived in a ramshackle cottage whitewashed on the outside and weathered by the seasons. The rest of the township regarded this man as an oddity, for he simply, in their minds refused to conform to the expectations of Society. Every morning at 5am he rose, dressed for the season in resplendent colours of the rainbow, opened his front door wide and with a small trumpet, wandered through the streets of the town playing his trumpet beautifully. Many groaned at this behaviour as they often rudely awakened by the trumpeting and 5am was really they thought an unseemly time to be awake.
Upon completing the beautiful trumpeting, he would continue home and eat a delicious hot meal that had been simmering in the pot overnight. No skimpy breakfast for him, no cereal, nor toast, it was a lovely main meal to start the day. Other shook their heads at this behaviour at 6am in the morning and wondered when he had started this behaviour, for it seemed he had done it for as long as they could remember. By 9am he was on the Moors, where he would walk and talk for hours, dressed as brightly as a beacon, talking to no one it seemed, returning only for lunch at 1pm, which would always be trifle. If you did happen to pop in to see him, he would warmly offer you trifle for lunch, for all his oddities, he was a kind man they thought. In the afternoons he could be found in his garden, growing the most wonderful assortment of odd vegetables and fruits, with peculiar names and equally peculiar tastes. He simply did not grow normal vegetables and fruits like everyone else. Again the locals shook their heads at his oddities.
There was a small boy in the village who was fascinated with the "Nonsensical Man" as the villagers called him. He would often sneak away quietly and peer through the hedge as the man would potter about humming in his garden or watch him through the window as he practised the trumpet for the early morning sojourns through the village. The days passed and the small boy grew more and more curious, crept closer and closer to the man in his garden, to hear him whispering "nonsensical" words to the wind.
One day the small boy decided to follow the man into the Moors, just to see what he did every morning out there amongst the heather and the tussock. He packed a lunch, slipped from below his Mother's eye and following the man into the Moors. The man was dressed in the brightest of purples this day, therefore very easy to follow along the Moorland. The boy was dressed in the darkest of greens so he could, he thought blend into the scenery and thereby not be as noticed by the man.
They travelled out further and further into the Moors, the village far behind. All of a sudden the man stopped, plopped down in a purple heap and produced a small silver flute and began to play. The small boy crept closer and closer, for he was behind the man and he wanted to see what he was doing. All of a sudden, the small boy froze, for the patch of purple heather just to the left of the man was moving! The whole patch of heather was creeping towards the small man playing the silver flute. The small boy stared in confusion. "Look out!" he cried out to the man. The man stopped playing the flute and turned and smiled delightedly at the small boy. "I wondered when you would come out to play" he commented. The small boy blushed crimson and looked at his feet. The man laughed "Come sit awhile and see what cannot be seen, by those who don't wish to see".
The boy thought about this confusing sentence, shrugged and came to sit beside the man dressed in purple. "Was the heather really moving?" The man looked at him thoughtfully with lavender coloured eyes. "Always remember you cannot un-see what you thought you didn't see". The small boy frowned and then having processed the sentence beamed "Really? Cool!". The man smiled delightedly at him, "and now watch then" he said. He picked up the flute, closed his eyes and began to play. The music twirled around the Moors, darting into nooks and crannies, playfully pulling on the occupants to come dance to the music. The small boy watched in rising excitement as the purple heather came to life before his eyes. Firstly, small tendrils reached out fingers stretching after a long sleep, the purple fronds waving in the blissful melody and then small eyes opened amongst the flowers and tiny musical laughter and song was added to the flute music. The boy held his breath and watched as the faerie folk emerged from the heather, in lilac, purple, violet and green hues. Tiny clothes, tiny hats, tiny hands clapping in rhythm to the silver flute music. His eyes shone with excitement as the small folk crept closer and climbed on the purple coloured man beside him. The flute music finished, its last silvery chimes dancing around the man, the small boy and the fae folk. They clapped delighted and the man spoke softly in a musical language the boy had never heard before. The fae nodded as one, turned and scampered back in colourful hues into the mass of heather.
The man with the lavender eyes turned them twinkling to the small boy. "Wow" whispered the small boy in delight. "Did I see that really?" The man winked "Of course you didn't, you don't see what your eyes tell you, you cannot. Stop looking with eyes that refuse to see, and look with your heart instead". The small boy thought about this "but I don't have eyes in my heart, do I?" The man lifted his eyes to the skies and laughed heartily. "The eyes in your heart are the ones that see most clearly what the eyes in your head forgot". He clapped the small boy on the back "Time for trifle" he said still chuckling.
They rose and headed back along the Moors, the small boy pestering the purple clad man with questions that no one had answered for him up until now. The man answered his questions with circular answers which to the boy made more and more sense as they travelled back. He stopped at the gate and looked up at the "nonsensical" man. "Thank you" he said kindly. The man leaned down and looked him in the eye, lavender eyes peered into the depths of him. "No thank you's" he said "No need, just remember, always remember, to look with your heart, beyond what your eyes tell you is right or wrong, for there is truly neither, there is only what is".
Always there is more than what meets the eye. If we continually set a limitation to what we perceive we see, then we will always be limited by that perception. If you take the time to truly "see" in all aspects of the word, from your heart, your mind and not just your eyes. Then you go beyond the expectations of this world, this realm and start to truly "see" what was already right under your nose.