The View from Bristow

Awaking to Beauty in the Heart of Indiana

I started a new job a few months ago. Several times a week, I drive four to five hours a day to reach all of my accounts and return home. While I have covered most of Indiana over the last twenty-five years in sales, my new territory is entirely new to me. In fact, there have been several times at the end of the day I wondered where I was and how I would even get home. Without maps on my phone, I would have been lost.

I have driven through Switz City, Clay City (the Mayberry of the Midwest), Cincinnati (Indiana?), Westphalia, Holland, and Washington. I was told that one of the counties is 25% Amish and Mennonite. They weren’t kidding. Not only have I followed their horses and buggies, but I have been so intrigued by their lifestyle that I have stopped and talked to them when walking past their vegetable stands.

Trust me—Driving in these rural areas has been a nice change from daily interstate travel.

One particular day, I went to an office in Bristow, Indiana. I turned before walking in the door and took in the view across the highway. It was expansive. Big blue sky. White puffy clouds. Miles of the greenest, most mature trees carpeting the rolling hills. I took a deep breath. The air was cleaner down there. When I finally entered the office, I asked the receptionist if she ever walked out the front door and just stood there to take it all in.

“What are you talking about?”

“The view! Isn’t it magnificent?” I exclaimed.

“I haven’t really thought about it.”

I told her she should try it sometime.

I remember the first time I went out West in 2006. From the time we saw the Rocky Mountains rising upon entering eastern Colorado on I-70, I wondered how anyone could get used to having such a picturesque view around them all the time. I woke up each morning on our vacation and drove around Denver to find a coffee shop. My head was lurched out the window so I could catch glimpses of the mountains. People walked by on the sidewalks, seemingly habituated and desensitized to their surroundings. I wanted to yell out the car windows, “Look at those mountains, people! Aren’t they amazing!”

I decided not to be an early morning psycho and just enjoy them for myself.

Stories like these always make me consider our lives, and how easily wonder and beauty can be eclipsed by our daily sleepwalking.

In my experience, the key to wonder is purposefully choosing to rebel against monotony. It is an intentional revolt against a myopic life, fighting to see the beauty around us. It involves pushing back against forces that lull us into a zombie-like trance, causing us to move mindlessly from point A to point B without ever taking moments to “consider the lilies of the field.” In a world that often moves too fast, choosing to remain vigilant and awake to the beauty around us is not just a gift—it is a necessary, essential act of defiance for the refreshing of our souls.

Question

In what ways have I allowed the beauty of my surroundings to become invisible, and how can I cultivate a renewed sense of wonder in my daily life?

Peace,

Brandon