the color of wonder

You can listen to the audio version of this story here.

All was quiet. As it always was before.
Before time.
Before breath.
Before us.

Origin, was the name of the place. Although, calling Origin a place is limiting. And Origin is free. She is everything and she is all. Origin is everywhere and she is everywhen. Origin is Home.
In Origin, all was quiet. All was still. An eternal echo of magic and dust.
Certainty, was all there was.

Mother Intuition was braiding the grass, baking with the stars, bathing in the sky, when suddenly she felt a flicker of life in her womb. “How curious”, she thought. “I wonder what this is?”

Such irony, for her to ask questions when she herself, was the answer to everything.
She still liked to ask herself questions from time to time.
What a word…”time”, such a human, limiting word. She would ask herself questions when she wanted to remember herself back, back from dreams. Or perhaps back from the tide, and the waves, or back from echoes of existence.

This time, though, the questions behaved differently. They felt differently. They didn’t seem to be doing their usual melting away as soon as they were spoken. They didn’t seem to be doing their usual evaporating into the well as they reached her tongue and she closed her eyes, finding the answer. This time, they lingered.

“Hello?
Helloooo?”
The voice was quick, high, and determined, like the wings of a hummingbird. And even though hummingbirds had not come to be quite just yet, she still knew their name.
“Who are you? What are you made of? Are you my mother? Where is that beat coming from? Is that your heart? What makes you so warm?”
Us humans, we have made a habit of putting the questions away, or we are quick to dismiss them with answers we think we know.
But in Origin, it was not like that.
Instead, Intuition knew how to listen. She was used to listening. She knew listening was the first answer to questions that had yet to be asked. Listening made her softer, and lighter, listening nurtured her, it made her stronger and louder without having to say a word.
So she closed her eyes and she listened. To the voice, and to the questions. This time, the voice was coming from inside of her. The questions were made by someone other than herself.
“How peculiar, she thought”
And then, on the first ray of sun on the first dawn of the first day of the first spring, she gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. His skin was wet and warm, ten fingers and the most perfect ten toes. But his eyes were something she had never seen before. Round, wide, and a deepest blue. It was not like the blue of the sky. Or the blue of the sea that was yet to come to be. It was blue, the color of wonder.
“How should I name him?” she asked. Once again, she caught herself asking a question she already knew the answer to.
So she named him the name she knew was his: Curiosity.
Mother Intuition did what all mothers do. She spent all days and all nights nurturing her baby boy. She fed him clouds, and droplets of rain, the kind that you can barely see resting on the leaves on a crisp morning when Winter turns to Spring. She made him giggle just so she could see his eyes shine, and she could get lost in his wonder-blue eyes.
She told him stories about Origin, about light and grass, about hummingbirds and fish, and he loved them all. But his absolute favorite stories his mother told him, were the tales about humans. Creatures made of corn and mud, created by the sun and the moon.
Curiosity spent his childhood asking questions. To himself, to the wind, and to his mother. His mother, the mother of questions, and the protector of answers. And as much as she loved them, the questions, she confessed from time to time, she wasn’t quite sure how one single being could be full of so many of them. She answered some, but most, she said what she knew was best: “If you ask the question the right way, the answer will come to you”
So he did. Without interruption. His eyes would open wide, wider still, and he would wonder: “how is it that the grasshopper jumps so high?”, “how could I make my drink overflow with foam?” “How could I make bubbles that won’t burst?” “What happens if I take food away from the monkey?” “What will happen if I swing from this vine and then let go?” “What lies at the bottom of the sea?”
He made discoveries. His discoveries made inventions and took him on incredible adventures. He was a fascinating creature. More fascinating still than the ones he himself loved to observe.
And time rolled by, days and nights wrapped his life like the wrapping of a present. The child became a young man. And the young man became more curious still. Intuition was a proud mother. But as much as she wanted to deny herself the truth, she knew, he was due.
If this was a human story, we would preface this paragraph with the phrase: “As fate would have it…” but in Origin, there is no such thing as fate. There is only purpose.
And so it was, that one day Curiosity came home. Worried and ashamed, his eyes gray and somber. His mother was there to listen to the things she already knew.
“I was in the garden of Eden. I don’t know what happened. I lost my way, and I think I got someone in trouble.”
His mother did what she did best. Listened. And in her listening, the questions came, and the answers did too.
“I really didn’t mean to, Arrogance and I were playing around, and there was a human, and a tree, and a fruit that was forbidden, and I think I got him banished and exiled.”
...“And on my way back home, I think I also killed a cat.”
I’m a mother, and I imagine Mother Intuition forcing herself to remain quiet, crossing her arms as if not to show her immense impulse to react, all to entice her young adolescent son to confess. But that is not how this was.
Mother Intuition is wiser than we think. She is there, and in her quiet presence she waits, patiently, for her entry.
Curiosity went on. “I lost my way. I should have said no. I should have walked away. But Arrogance was there and he was so sure this would be fun. I should have said no”

Intuition spoke:
“All flourishing is mutual, and all gifts are multiplied in relationship. You decide who you create a relationship with”.
The Garden of Eden, the forbidden fruit and the banishment of humans is not to be forgotten, but that is not the story of Curiosity. That is the story of Arrogance and Humans. And Human stories are saved for another time.
It was on his way back to Origin that Curiosity stumbled upon a new presence. She was beautiful and simple. Her skin would glow just right in the afternoon light. Her chin would bow at the sight of life, and she would extend her arms out in front of her cupping her hands, making an offering of love and kindness everywhere she walked.
Curiosity was used to magnificent creatures, magnificent moments, and magnificent reactions. But she was different. There was a quiet presence to her, so new, and yet so familiar, so certain and comforting. So true and pure. And for the first time since he came to be, Curiosity did not have any questions but one: “What is your name?”
“Humility” she said.
Curiosity and Humility danced together for the rest of time. In the human world, we would say they had a happy life, and they grew old together. But that is not how stories are told in Origin.
Curiosity’s life continued. And as his life continued, his gift flourished in relationship, like his mother had said. It was in relationship with Humans that he became the source of progress and inventions, of great discoveries, and incredible adventures. He was the asker of questions, and the master of observations, he stayed pure and childlike, playful and full of mischief. In his relationship with Humility, it was she who would redirect his attention when it was needed, or lovingly hold his hand, bring hers to his heart and remind him to come back Home.
Progress and evolution came to be. And when he was tired, he would sit and leave the questions aside for another day.
In those moments, his mother would approach and say: “My sweet boy. My sweet, blue eyed boy. Your wrinkled skin, and gray hair. It seems you need a new name.”
And for the second time in his existence, Curiosity did not need to ask the question. For he knew, in this third fire of his life, his new name, was Contemplation.

In loving memory of Eduardo Marván, who showed me how to find wonder and look at life with curious, childlike eyes.