The State of Constant, Total Amazement is Deep in the Heart of Texas...and Hawai'i

Captain's Log: Stardate 2018 August 6 11:46 PM CST

On this, the waning hours of our annual summer Texas trip - 1 part family reunion, 1 part pilgrimage, I sit by a pool turned into blackwater by a moonless night and I have an all-to-familiar, innate urge to capture this moment, to create something that will permit me to share this exact time, however poorly it may be. So, I write.

The slack key melodies from my Pandora Hawai'i station accompany the two small citronella pales that are pulling double duty as semi-effective tiki torches and less-than-semi-effective mosquito repellents, as I reflect and imagine. The pale yellow glow from the candles illuminates their corresponding areas to just about a 4-foot perimeter. From there the incomplete shadowy nighttime darkness takes over. I imagine there are tiki torches that cast a glow on pathways between island bungalows, simultaneously flickering in an ocean breeze as my own two "torches" dance in a warm and slight West Texas wind. The crackling rhythmic sounds of the jets from the sprinkler heads that dot the fairway just a few yards away have come and gone. Not quite a suitable replica of a tropical waterfall or Hawai'ian surf, but calming in its own way. And now the air is strangely silent, atypical for this Carolinian's ears. Back home, my thoughts would be struggling to gain a stronghold amidst the southern summer melodious trills and drones of the tree frogs, creek toads, and crickets.

I look skyward and notice that June Hershey's lyrics from the classic Texas tribute are again confirmed. "The stars at night are big and bright" indeed. Go ahead and clap four times - it's okay...probably required by some Texas statute, actually. There is Jupiter in all its glory, dominating the heavens with an egotistical shine that you absolutely must notice. There is also Mars with its marvelously red hue, giving Jupiter notice that another game is definitely in town for stargazers right now. A shooting star zips across the face of the vast Milky Way, which ribbons across a night sky littered with gleaming, brilliant lights. Clap-clap-clap-clap.

As the sounds of aloha surround me, I allow myself to imagine that my South Pacific double is gazing skyward as well and contemplating the same twinkling palette as I at this very moment, maybe even listening to George Strait or Lyle Lovett or Bob Wills, as though we are connecting across some cosmic pathway of brotherhood. My geographic brain tells me that this is probably inaccurate, at least in part. The sky in the islands of Hawai'i, just a few latitude lines south of here, probably look a little different. Heck, the sun may still be out there. Still, it is a nice thought. I envision Israel Kamakawiwo'ole (known as Iz to his bruddahs, of which I am sure I am one) is smiling down at me, strumming his uke, and wearing a Stetson straw cowboy hat tonight in my honor. Well, okay - maybe a palm leaf cowboy hat. But he is smiling...because it's returned to me tonight. I also imagine Willie Nelson, in a lei and aloha shirt, is plucking Trigger (his famously worn guitar) and smiling down on my counterpart. Wait...Willie isn't dead. So, I guess that visualization doesn't really work. Willie might be able to conjure a fitting version of this vision from the back of his tour bus, but I digress.

What is the "it" of which I speak, you ask?

No, it is not some alcohol-induced stammering or drivel flowing from the fingertips of some poor soul who has finally been pushed over the insanity precipice by a life of freakish busy-ness. At least, I don't think that's it. Bar tabs and/or medical records may prove otherwise one day.

No, the "it" is a credo of mine that I stole from a movie. Short version - to live in a state of constant, total amazement.

Now, that's not hard to do tonight. But, tomorrow, when I'm packing for our drive home, aka playing Tetris with my minivan and the luggage, bags, boxes, golf clubs, and various odds and ends, many of which strangely did not occupy space in our vehicle on the way out here, finding that state of constant, total amazement will not be a simple task. Neither will it be easy on our numbing drive down I20...for 17 hours. Sometimes, it's a struggle to live by a credo of such effort and rarity.

The battle against the status quo, normalcy, metaphoric sleep is real for the few. Life often likes to don us with blinders. They become comfortable and safe. We tend to anchor ourselves in the harbors of ritual, shelter, and the ordinary. Coincidentally, or maybe not, this particular credo of which I aspire to pursue was uttered on a boat at sea in the movie. Hmm...

So, for tonight, I've recaptured that state - a mindset of sorts - that delivers me. The world is good and magical and awesome, and I'm here to take part in or at least observe it. It is moments like this that I can recall when I'm on that interstate stretch between Abilene and Dallas or Atlanta and Augusta, where life no longer exists, and is subsequently sucked out of any one traveling through that area. I can recall it innumerable times when I seem buried under life's expectations or stuck on one of life's sandbars. I know that the amazing is still out there, be it in the natural world, the human existence, or the unexplained. And I am thankful that I am reminded tonight, and at other opportune moments, to pursue this state - constantly and totally.

Mahalo, y'all.

The Rare Light Show of the Lightning Bug - Experiences in Amazement, Part I

You know those moments when the simultaneous occurrence of events that, when taken individually, may just be noticeable, results in something unforgettable? It's like at that one particular moment, there is an alignment in the cosmos and you are lucky enough to experience it. A serious "whoa - this is AWESOME!!" moment. 

I had the pleasure of experiencing this feeling a few times in recent days, which is nice in and of itself. It seems these moments occur randomly with lengthy intervals of time between occurrences, unless you are visiting places of natural wonder, watching The Masters live, or shooting a layout for a Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition. Then, these feelings pile up so often you begin to backtrack to figure out when you quantum-leapt out of reality. 

Interestingly, my recent stumblings into amazement involved natural nighttime light shows. This is the first of those moments and it occurred after reading a quick blurb in my local paper about fireflies lighting in synchronization at nearby Congaree National Park (The State article).

 

image courtesy of thestate.com

Highly doubtful, I knew this required a first-hand look. So, I loaded up the family and headed out. I figured I would pull a classic Clark Griswold moment, building up the excitement only to be met by groans and disappointment.

"Really? You put us out here on the buffet line at Mosquito Ryan's for this?".

I anticipated having to defend myself. "Well, I guess if you try hard enough you can see a pattern...maybe...right?".

When we arrived at the park, we were not the only ones who had read about this firefly show. There were about 30 others, many of whom seemed to be veteran firefly watchers. I knew this because they had on lightweight long sleeved shirts and pants and wore those hats that field scientists in the movies wear. This gave me a glimmer of hope. Surely these professionals wouldn't be duped. We were in t-shirts and shorts (the temperature was in the 90's after all -at 8:00 in the evening nonetheless), but armed with high-octane, Amazon Jungle-ready insect napalm repellent.

"Um, Dad? This spray kinda burns my skin."

"That's good son - means it's working."

"How?"

"Well, if it's just a little uncomfortable for you, think about how it will make that tiny mosquito feel."

"True."

 

The sun sank behind the swamp canopy, and with it my anticipation. We spotted a few fireflies, but nothing we couldn't have seen in the backyard at home. The show seemed to have been cancelled.

"We regret to inform you that the fireflies have suddenly taken ill. We suspect a reaction to the DEET that seems to be pervading our air space tonight, thanks to the Griswold family. In any case there will be no performance tonight."

But then it happened. The moment. It started with whisperings and murmurs in the astonished crowd. Then the show began in earnest. I know this is cliche, but if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes I wouldn't have believed it. It was a true symphony of synchronized luminescence. Try to visualize floating Christmas tree lights, blinking at a heartbeat's rate, in unison, along the thick darkness emerging from the swamp forest floor. Surreal. Magical. A true "wow" moment.

I found out this dazzling spectacle occurs in only 3 places in the world and for only a short run of time. I happened to be in one of those places at the right time. And I had witnesses.

So, not only did I experience a moment of wonder, but I was also the hero.

 

Bonus.

 

Wake up!

This morning was like most other mornings in many ways:

• The birds that live right outside of my bedroom windows woke up first.
• The sun came up...eventually.
• I wished I was waking up in the Caribbean.
• A song from an original film score was spinning through my mind.

I've admitted it before, but it's worth mentioning again - I'm a cinematic score fanatic. This morning was different, though, because the tune in my head was from my favorite movie of all time - Joe Versus the Volcano.

I just heard a collective virtual "What?"

It's true. Favorite all time. There is neither enough time nor space to elaborate on all of my feelings about this film. Suffice it to say that its many levels of meaning, symbolism and language move me like no other silver screen product.

I just laugh off the criticisms of lameness, cheesiness and too fairy tale-ish. By the way, what is wrong with a fairy tale? We could use a few more.

But Joe vs. the Volcano is much more than a fairy tale. It's a story of discovery with fine performances (Tom Hanks, et al.), insightful dialogue and an endless supply of metaphor. You should see it, even if it's not your first time. Plus, it contains "The Line". The very essence of my being. The reason to do more than merely exist. It carries a meaning of biblical proportion to me. The Bible mentions the phrase "out of the mouth of babes". Well, out of the mouth of a babe, Meg Ryan, comes this quote: "...almost the whole world is asleep. Everybody you know. Everybody you see. Everybody you talk to...only a few people are awake and they live in a state of constant total amazement." I immediately fell in love. The moonlight didn't hurt, either. Nor did the fact that this statement occurred on a sailboat out on the open sea.

image:imdb.com

Until this epiphany, I had trouble expressing my sentiments on life in general. Ryan's character nailed it for me with her brief but awesome proclamation:

"(A)lmost the whole world is asleep." Ignorance is not bliss. Ignorance is false bliss. Ignorance is also rampant, skipping down society's yellow brick road, arm in arm with conformity, bias and narrow-mindedness.

Need proof? Just go to the zoo.

There you'll find the great American family - sitting on a bench, waiting for the tram to carry their over-nourished, under-worked, sunburned bodies to their car; Mom and Dad puffing away on Marlboros under the No Smoking sign while the kids rave about their favorite attraction, "Safari Burger". As you watch the actions and listen to the conversations, you start to wonder that maybe the wrong animals are on display.

Then you get confirmation of such when little Paris is suddenly yanked up by the arm and spanked for running towards the aquarium, setting off a tooth-challenged barrage of expletives from Mom, only to be quickly replaced by family laughter at the baboon's panic-stricken choke fest caused by Timmy's well-placed bubble gum toss. Makes me wonder what goes through the gorilla's mind every day. I have an idea...

Whoa! Reel it in there, fella. Weren't we talking about fairy tales? Ah, yes. Even though dreamers like myself usually opt for the escapist path, the here-and-now offers numerous opportunities for "constant total amazement".

You must be awake, though.

And, although dreaming is usually associated with sleep, this dreamer finds being awake far more preferable to the alternative.