The World Is Too Much With Us

William Wordsworth, an English poet, once penned a sonnet (the title of which is the title of this blog entry), in which he says, in so many words, that he regrets being part of a world that distracts him from the beauty of nature.  I'm with him on that.  There are so few opportunities to give oneself to the reverence that is ever before us for the taking.  Listening to the still, small voice in us gives way to the cacophony of a noisy world.  No one stays in one place long enough to smell the flowers.

I've had precious few opportunities to feel the awe before me as an adult; however, there have been a few.

When I went to visit my daughter and son-in-law when they lived in Silicon Valley in California, we took a southern trek to the old Spanish Mission of San Juan Bautista.  The mission is located right smack next to the San Andreas Fault.  It was established in 1797.  The mission is still a place of worship after all these years, and has a cemetery on site.  All I know is that when we entered the sanctuary, I was in awe.  I was walking on a cobblestone floor that had been laid centuries before.  How very many worshippers had also walked on those stones?  It was quiet.  I felt like we were in God's house.  I was struck speechless in awe of the place.  Not sure if it was the history of the place or the purpose of it that got to me.  I simply felt that I had seen something important that struck a chord in my heart.

A year or two later, I was part of a trek with my family, moving back to the Midwest, but we were going to see everything possible along the way.  (It was a amazing trip, in soooo many respects!)  One place we stopped was in Monument Valley in Utah, which is on the property of the Navajo Nation.  On that site, there was a gift shop/snack bar, and a sort of patio facing the rock formations.  It was a warm day with a lovely breeze, and soft Indian flute music piped to the outside.  I sat on that patio, looking toward the "monuments", knowing that I was seeing something marvelous and serene, not duplicated anywhere else in the world.  Everything around me faded out.  I felt like I was in church...in God's house of nature.  Haven't felt anything like that since.

After my family moved back to the Midwest, they bought a house in Lindenhurst, IL.  It had a HUGE back deck that faced their own backyard and some wooded property complete with a pond.  Ducks and geese were prevalent, with herons and other water birds, and occasional deer in the yard.  I would go out to the deck, lean on the rail, and just soak up the peace and tranquility.  I remember saying, "I could stand here forever."

I feel bad that I have lost so much of the beauty of life in my old age.  I don't have a bucket list.  Much of what I did have on a potential list has already occurred, thanks to my daughter.  I am grateful that God has given me opportunities that many others can never have.  I've been blessed.  Truly blessed.  And everybody said, "Amen"!