In Stephen King’s Elevation, Scott Carey only begins to experience a connection to the earth once he —literally— begins to float away from it. Castle Rock is a small American town, where people go about their daily business without pause for introspection. Scott’s mundane life is suddenly shaken when he steadily begins to lose weight . . . but not mass. As he becomes lighter and lighter, Scott develops a fascination for the everyday wonders that surround him.
The night was cold, chilling the sweat on his face, but the air was as sweet and crisp as the first bite of a fall apple. Above him was a half-moon and what seemed like a trillions stars.
To watch the trillion pebbles, just as mysterious, that we walk over every day, he thought. Mystery above, mystery below. Weight, mass, reality: mystery all around. (p. 141)
This passage reminds me of coming home to Vancouver Island after spending time in Toronto or London. When I stand out on my deck at night, I feel as though my senses are reawakened. Away from the city noise, I hear salmon sloshing in the harbour, or a seal surfacing with a soggy snort. Away from the city light pollution, I see our barred spiral galaxy, and if I am lucky, maybe even a meteor. King’s writing reminds me of the awe I sometimes feel when marvelling at the fascinating phenomenon of existence.