The first time I tried going on a walk this evening, I discovered it was starting to rain, so I went back inside for a bit. I’m glad I did, because the next time I tried, I found this:

Wow! I wished I could teleport to the neighborhood school for a better view – I knew I couldn’t possibly walk or even drive there in time. Or better yet, the western Ridgeline trailhead on Blanton Road, which looks westward toward the Coast Range, with the reservoir sparkling at its foot.

As it was, by the time I got to the school, the sky looked more like this:

Oh well. Sunsets are ephemeral wonders, although many of us try to capture them with our cameras – at least four other neighbors were doing so, just like me.

The treasures of the moment – such beauty in the world. Sometimes the event itself is transient, like a sunset, the blooming of wildflowers, a live musical performance. At other times, the event is available for quite a long time – but not forever – and it’s our own presence there that’s momentary.

Recently I was reading a book by Kenneth Burke, an expert on rhetoric and narrative, and I was surprised to learn that he was the grandfather of Harry Chapin. Remember his song, “Cat’s in the Cradle”? The song’s storyteller learns the hard way that if he doesn’t focus on the beauty right before him, he may not get a second chance.

The ephemeral is one of the main ways we can experience awe and wonder – its opposite is the vast and overwhelming. As I’ve explained elsewhere, I don’t think of awe and wonder as synonyms. “Awe” is something that grabs and focuses our attention in such a way that we can’t even think, and it’s not necessarily good. Some people (like me) love aerial fireworks, and others find them distressing.

Wonder is more delicate, it draws us in – it’s often pretty or interesting, like a rainbow. Wonder can engage our imaginations… “I wonder why…” “I wonder whether…” Many have noted that wonder can go hand in hand with scientific thinking.

I suppose we could say that awe is “Wow!” or “Whoa!” while wonder is more “Ooooh…”

When I’m enjoying the sunset, I usually focus on how great it is right at that moment, which is a positive experience, but it’s also possible to focus on the bittersweet transience of it all. It’s my understanding that that’s the classic emotional experience behind the Japanese cherry blossom festival – every falling petal reminds us that the beauty cannot last.

Another emotion associated with the ephemeral is surprise, which can definitely be fun. Yesterday’s thunderstorm covered my lawn with hail – in August! – and I rushed to the front door to see. While I was out there, though, there was a clap of thunder pretty much directly overhead, which utterly overwhelmed my ears and shook the roof of my house. My son was in the kitchen, and the two of us started cracking up with laughter.

We humans are very much attuned to noticing the unexpected. Our cats didn’t care about the thunder one bit (although a strange light can definitely excite them). I have to say they probably didn’t notice the sunset either. But I’m glad that I did.