Amazing, Amazing

“Our goal should be to live life in radical amazement. …. get up in the morning and look at the world in a way that takes nothing for granted. Everything is phenomenal; everything is incredible; never treat life casually. To be spiritual is to be amazed.”—Abraham Joshua Heschel 

“I touch my face, I run my fingers through my hair. This constant amazement: I’m here, I’m alive.”—Marty Rubin

It is rare when a day goes by that something does not amaze me. I am amazed when people treat me nicely, but not so amazed when they are nasty. I am amazed by how fast I can lose my temper. It is something I must work on every day. As a kid, a car ride amazed me and still does. A simple 30-mile round trip visit to a friend can cause me to utter something like, “Ninety years ago, this trip would have taken three days.”

When I was a kid, I had a friend who rang for an elevator, and when he stepped inside what he thought was the cabin, surprise, there was no elevator, and he fell eight floors. That was horrible, yet amazing.

Next to my office building, a new apartment complex was just completed. For almost a year, I watched the workers as they sat idly on the curb, ripping chunks off their Slim Jims and eating hero sandwiches while washing it all down with liquid from large thermos bottles. And to my amazement, the building is now complete. Walking around inside are high-rent paying people in their underwear. Amazing.

And folks, I remember more than once having had a glass of cold water that was so good, it practically brought me to tears. It was that crazy amazing.

Most people cannot just sit in a chair and amaze themselves unless, of course, they are a Jenner or Kardashian. Even certain deaths are amazing. If you fall off an 11,000-foot mountain, there must be a split second on your way down when you think, this is amazing. When someone dies quickly, you always hear, “Amazing. I just saw him yesterday.”

What also amazes many people are other people’s bad habits. For instance, they might say things like, “I am amazed that every time I see you, you are stuffing your face.”  Or they might say, “I am amazed by how long a person can sit on a couch and do absolutely nothing.” Likewise, I constantly amazed my parents, and they would tell me so by saying, “We are amazed by how little you listen to anything we have to say to you.”

When you start dating a new person who you like, it is not unusual to be amazed by each other. “She’s amazing.” “He is the most amazing guy I have ever met.” But that window, where everything the other person does is amazing, does not last long.

What really amazes me is that other people are not interested in things that amaze me. For instance, I will watch a movie and freak out and try to share it with the family. My family’s response is generally to mock the movie and say, “Wow, dad found another great one. Bet it’s a black and white.” If they do end up watching something I suggest, then nine out of ten times, they have a group Kumbaya amazement festival. They are all beyond amazed that not only did I like the movie, but also I loved it. When this happens, it could easily be a year or two before any of them trust another one of my suggestions. But, screw ‘em—I know good movies.

Trying to pass your amazement on to others is dangerous. There is a good chance it will lower their opinion of you unless, of course, you are uber wealthy. Then your amazement will be tolerated and applauded until the reading of your last will and testament.

I am sorry that not everyone feels as deeply as I do about such things. Being amazed is a beautiful thing. It is a gift. It makes life exciting.  Being amazed is a giant life bonus. Being amazed just happens. That is why it is amazing. Because you have no control. Life just gives it to you. It is the unexpected.

Being amazed is a beautiful thing. It is a gift.

Tonight, I will probably be in the bedroom with my wife where we will, amazingly, be watching our umpteenth show about Queen Elizabeth and her pain in the neck family. I have easily logged over 100 hours of screen time watching the Royals walking around Africa kissing little black babies or shaking hands with chubby women in print house dresses with whom they have nothing in common. Hands down, I have watched more video of the Queen’s family than my own.

One night, while watching these royals as they were exiting from their horse-drawn 18^th-century carriages, wearing enough jewelry to buy all of Beverly Hills and the Dodgers, I wondered if the Queen wears her crown when she sits on the loo. I thought that would be amazing. I personally have dropped my phone in the toilet and fished it out myself. If she dropped her crown in, I wondered if she too would fish it out herself.  That could easily be a Netflix six-episode limited series called “Fishing for The Tiara.”

So here we are, my wife in bed and me next to her in my vibrating, heated reclining faux leather chair wearing my Häagen-Dazs print boxers, eating rinsed blueberries and sipping decaf Earl Grey out of a faded “Father of the Year” mug. Believe me when I say I am an amazing sight to a select few. Here we are after more than 30 years of marriage. I sit totally and utterly amazed that this is my life. Because when I turn to my left, I see I have a partner to go through it with. Here we are, the king and queen of a 1705-square foot, 100-year-old house that is more of a bungalow. And I have never wanted to exchange my life for anybody else’s.

Ben Zoma says, “Who is rich? The one who appreciates what he has.” I do and that to me is utterly amazing.

Mark Schiff is a comedian, actor and writer.