Back in 1976, I went to Santa Barbara for a reading and lecture by a monk and writer named William McNamara. The occasion was the publication of his book, “The Human Adventure: Contemplation for Everyman.” I came away with a copy of this book, which now rests here beside my computer. I am a bit concerned that its structure may not survive its first opening in a long time: it is brittle. (It was still the 1970s when last I opened it.) I note that the cost, printed on the cover, was $1.95; the hardcover was originally $3.95.
As three decades and change have flickered by like magic lantern hummingbirds, I have often quoted – apparently misquoted – the admonition of this book to live my life, “steeped in radical amazement.” Here’s what this brittle little book really says:
It is this spiritual life, as well as my prayer life, of which contemplation is the highest expression. It is that life itself, fully awake, fully active, fully aware that it is alive. It is a life grounded in radical amazement, steeped in wonder, and full of awe, immersed as it is in mystery and engaged in intercourse with God. Contemplation is, above all, the loving awareness of God, the invisible, transcendent, and infinitely abundant source of everything.
Over thirty years, and I keep coming back to this, to one afternoon in a church when I was 15, to one man from the woods of Nova Scotia. I remember, without risking damage to later pages, that he lived in a log hermitage with his dog and ate oatmeal at dawn. I have remembered many times to try to find that amazement in the short days of my finite life. Perhaps more important, I’ve kept watch for a vision of that amazement – the wish to perceive it – in others.
Last week, a friend told me how much he likes the word amazement; I believe I see that wish in him. And in the past few days, I’ve found it without a doubt in the newest blog in my blogroll, camera-obscura. Anyone who dances with her horses is truly living steeped in wonder.
The dance along the artery
The circulation of the lymph
Are figured in the drift of stars
Ascend to summer in the tree
We move above the moving tree
In light upon the figured leaf
And hear upon the sodden floor
Below, the boarhound and the boar
Pursue their pattern as before
But reconciled among the stars.— TS Eliot, Four Quartets
Metaphor 
onkara :o)
Ah, your post has breathed new life into my day. I know the day is almost done as I write thes, but I still have a little while left to sit in my own quiet amazement.
namaste
Kyle, what a beautiful post in every single way – the photograph, your words, this idea of living in amazement, and perfect TS Eliot lines at the end.
I’m honored that camera-obscura and my dancing with the horses is included.
Since moving to our little farm, where we started with one horse, one pony, and two Corgis, I began to notice a new awareness of the small and amazing things in each day. We are bounded on two sides by forest, and quite often share our space here with deer, red-tailed hawks, black vultures, mice, a bobcat, and raccoons.
Over the nearly-four years we’ve lived here, we’ve brought new family members in. Two more horses, four cats, and a miniature donkey. For most of my young life I dreamed of a farm with horses, where the cats could live safely going outside. It’s amazing in the biggest way that we have this life now, and every single day when I walk out the back door to the barn, I’m reminded by the myriad of little miracles of nature and animals just how precious it is. I’m glad you enjoy the musings I make in reflection.
You certainly do the same here at Metaphor. Thank you!