This morning I woke up early, not for any particular reason. The alarm clock was not set, I fell asleep after midnight so a few more hours of sleep would have been good. I just woke and looked out upon the plants growing in pots on my balcony, at the rising of the sun, the colors of the clouds and as I often do when I see wonder, I said out loud, “Thank you.”
Who am I saying “Thank you” too? Who hears it? Or is that even an important question to ask? I do not believe in the God of Christianity. He is too vengeful a god for my gentle nature. I believe god is more personal as in the lines of Rilke.
You are the deep innerness of all things. The last word that can never be spoken. To each of us you reveal yourself differently: to the ship as a coastline, to the shore as a ship.
I myself might hear the “Thank you,” for the plants on my balcony. I put them there. I care for them and provide for their needs. I arranged them so I am able to see them from my bed or when I am writing from my desk. But to whom am I giving thanks for those everyday wonders beyond my balcony. My individual god is the shore to my ship but to whom am I giving thanks for the more universal wonders? The beauty of the clouds I see each day, the colors of the sky, the smell of the lemon blossoms are all created for my pleasure by something or someone. I could extrapolate and believe my god creates these wonder solely for me but I am not that egotistical. All this wonder and beauty is for everyone to witness, not just me.
I could be scientific and rationalize the Universe in its entirety is the receiver of my “Thank you.” I could go to the beginning. The big bang, the formation of stars and galaxies, the Milky Way, the sun, the moisture in the atmosphere which creates the clouds, the refraction of sunlight creates the colors, the mixture of molecules and atoms are responsible for the scent of the lemon blossom. They all receive my “Thank you,” for their creation but who or what created them? Everything comes either from nothing or it has always been in existence without beginning or end, but that theory runs contrary to my experience of life and death, unless of course one continues life after death only in a different form in the same manner the catapiler dies to become a butterfly. But what does the butterfly become?
Each time I experience wonder, I say, “Thank you.” I am a witness and as a witness I realize all, everything is here for me to experience. Tomorrow when I wake, today will be but a memory. Savored in the moment, recorded with a date stamped photograph, a poem, an essay or simply a moment connecting all the wondrous moments of my life. All are worthy of my “Thank you.”