Phenomenon: Awakening the Wonder Within

Every now and then I get a hankering to see the movie Phenomenon again. For those who haven't seen it, John Travolta plays George, the central character, a somewhat slow-witted nice guy who has a strange experience that awakens his consciousness and begins to hyperactivate his mind. In short, he becomes a phenomenon.

The movie does a wonderful job of presenting George's struggle as he seeks to understand what is happening to him. His friends, however, are equally befuddled and the unanswered questions that arise from their own insecurities cause misunderstanding, pain and rejection. It's almost as scary to know a phenomenon as to be one.

In my opinion it was a good story well told. Like all good stories, it unearthed regions of my own soul, areas I have mined before and will mine again because I believe their are still some precious stones to uncover there.

It is a life theme to which I often return. Are we not each a phenomenon in our own way? What is the meaning of my life? What are my unique gifts? Where has my power come from from? And how much of it is unused, undeveloped, unactivated.

We use so little of our strength, our imagination, and our capacity for wonder. We become creatures of habit, living in a narrow hallway we mistake for the whole house. The wallpaper is faded, the air is stale, and the same dim light burns year after year. There are no windows to surprise us with a storm, no open doors through which music drifts, no unexpected visitors. It is safe enough. Predictable enough. And slowly, almost imperceptibly, our curiosity goes to sleep.

One of my earliest poems attempted to capture that image to some extent: "Yellow room in semi-gloom, I see no beauty in this wretched place." It's not a mindset you want to wear for the long haul, but that's a headspace I once lived in. 

Perhaps that is why Phenomenon still resonates with me. George's awakening may be exaggerated for the sake of the story, but the deeper truth is one we all recognize. Every person possesses unrealized possibilities. Every life contains unexplored rooms. There are books we have not read, friendships we haven't pursued, questions we've been afraid to ask, talents we've quietly set aside because they seemed impractical or inconvenient. We become accustomed to living on one floor of a mansion that was built with many levels.

John Updike once observed that four forces motivate and shape our lives: Love, Habit, Time, and Boredom. Love ignites us. Habit steadies us. Time wears us smooth. But boredom is the silent thief. It convinces us that tomorrow will be no different than today and that the world has already shown us everything it has to offer. It's not dramatic enough to frighten us, so we surrender without noticing. 

Somehow I suspect that the cure for boredom is curiosity. Every morning is an invitation. Learn something difficult. Call someone you've neglected. Walk a different street. Read a poet instead of the headlines. Pray. Listen. Create. Risk failure. The phenomenon we are waiting for may not arrive as a flash of light from the heavens. It may begin with the simple decision to wake up and pay attention. 

The world is still filled with mysteries, and so are you.