The professor noticed this phenomenon when he began taking some of his college students on a visit to Ireland each year. Having been born and raised on the Emerald Isle himself, but a long-time resident of the US, his eyes were neither fresh nor any longer habituated to Irish peculiarities, such as the smell of the air, eccentric architecture, local expressions, and novel foods. But his students marveled at and delighted in these and many other small things they'd never before seen.
So he coined the word allokataplixis, which is a conjunction of two Greek words: allo, meaning “other,” and katapliktiko, meaning “wonder.” He feels that the word captures the amazement and fascination that his students expressed so many times during their visits to Ireland.
I immediately identified with and was struck by this idea, as it describes a feeling I've had, whenever visiting a place I've never been before. There are so many details that capture my attention—details I find myself photographing or listing in my travel journal, each night. I often later chuckle at how many of these features are really quite ordinary, and thus become rather invisible to me, after a few days.
Sure, the magnificent views that I hoped to experience in Italy and Ireland were indeed magnificent and awe inspiring, but on the way to that overlook or that charming village, many small objects caught my attention and demanded that I pause to enjoy them. That's the biggest reason why I always keep a loose and flexible schedule when I travel: it allows stopping and smelling the flowers along the way. Many of my fondest memories of visiting a foreign land are composed of those small delights, and how they often led me to a fascinating discovery that I'd otherwise have missed, had I a strict itinerary to adhere to.
Allokataplixis can happen closer to home as well. Several decades ago I moved to the woods of northern Virginia—just a handful of miles from the West Virginia border. I found myself one day crossing for the first time the state line on my motorcycle, riding into West Virginia, where I began noticing several small, different, and novel sights—thinking, “Wow! I'm in unfamiliar and interesting territory!” Now that I've traversed that same state line countless times, it's no longer novel—it's become my familiar, ordinary neighborhood.
Professor Heneghan had another thought in mind, when he invented the word allokataplixis: that a newcomer's fascination with novel details in a new place can be contagious for long-term residents. It can reignite in them an appreciation for their surroundings. It can wake up jaded denizens. In this way, allokataplixis can become a gift to the residents of a place where travelers visit. It can show residents that there is the marvelous in the everyday. Mindfulness can do the same thing, as it can draw us out of our inattentive state of mind, to put attention to special little things. If something—anything—causes us to pause and absorb the mundane, we can come to realize it too is a true wonder.
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