Tonight, when I walked the meadow at dusk, clouds played a dark melody on the sky. It was beautiful enough.
Then . . .a train whistle blew. The brass coming in. I stopped, listened. Then listened to the echo. And again the whistle blew and echoed. And I stood transfixed.
I'm not the first to be transfixed by that plaintive sound. But I wondered, why did it make me feel so alive? And the answer was simple. Because it was laden with mystery.
Mystery, wonder--the things we feel but can't quite name--can't pin to any rational explanation, startles us awake and makes us feel alive.
Think about the mystery of that: What we don't understand makes us feel most alive.