My 15-month-old son knows something I often forget. When he rolls out of bed in the morning, he wriggles his marvelous toes, fascinated by their movement. For breakfast, he sucks on a piece of mango and his robin’s egg eyes wax large at its unexpected tang. We go for a walk and he twists his head halfway off his neck to star at a dog as though it were a dragon sprung from the pages of a legend. My son is awake to everything mysterious, marvelous and miraculous in the universe. Without trying, he knows and practices the art of curiosity. But I - with my larger brain, advanced reasoning skills, and 19 years of formal education - battle boredom every day. Though I’m scheduled from dawn to well after dark, though my eyes scan thousands of words daily, I can hardly recall the last time I learned something that lit a spark in me. Like many of you, I learn things every day that make me more productive and efficient, but not things every day that necessarily enliven my mind. When I look out the window, I don’t glimpse a wonderland of novelty and possibility - I see humdrum. I see tedium. I see ho-hum. But my sophisticated boredom is mistaken, and my son’s innocent wonder is perfectly right; the world overflows with miracles that ought to awe us where we stand. We have been given agile minds to apprehend these great and glorious mysteries.
an excerpt from Darling magazine