I am Not a Hedonist

Two weeks ago I heard myself say to friends that I was a Hedonist.  That was not even close to true.  Word-finding gives me trouble these days; occasionally a nearby web of neurons will come up with a substitute.  But I don’t even know a word to describe my spiritual state.

My senses inform feelings of awe.  The scent of milkweed or holly in bloom, the scent of beets and cinnamon, the scent of a skunk, and the stench of a decaying animal tell me of my Higher Power.  Things that I see up close and far away move me to wonder.  Music, including Brahms, the sound of wind,  frog and bird calls connect me with the Spirit of the universe – even a turtle's plop into a pond does.  Even mechanical noises move me when I think about the ingenious complicated brains that construct the machines that made the noises.   Feeling water, dirt, sand, another person connects me to the world.

Anne Lamott said the three essential prayers are Help!, Thanks!, and Wow!  I overused ‘Help!’ In my early years, and still use it from time to time; but ‘Wow!’ Followed by ‘Thanks!’ are the prayers that underpin my life these days.  My best spiritual practice is to spend time out-of-doors where wows and thanks are thick on the ground.

I’ve wondered if my thankfulness and awe would diminish as my aging senses fail.  I don’t think they will, though my need for ‘Help’ will increase. The memory of things seen and heard and smelled and felt and the gratitude for them should remain as long as I remain myself.

My senses let me know that I belong to this universe.  I am equally a part of it as the smallest microbe or the largest tropical storm. WOW!