The Call of Wonder

As the leaves turn color and begin to fall from the trees, I want to share some reflections from Clear Dharma Sangha on wonder. (Further below, you'll also find some upcoming free events and discounts.)

One of the blessings of parenting small children is the daily invitation to slow down and rediscover the magic of life. Exploring a stone or pondering a simple question—“Where does the sun go at night?”—the eyes of a small human can reawaken our capacity for wonder, that natural state of openness and awe, deep connection and amazement.

Far from a naïve luxury, wonder is an indispensable tonic for the heart in uncertain times—a well of vitality that sustains us. In a world where headlines often pull us toward fear, anger, or fatigue, wonder reminds us that there is goodness and beauty worth tending.


Seeing Anew

The world is filled with wonder. Look deeply into anything—a glass of water, a pebble, your own body or mind—and it reveals the miracle of existence. Water falls from the sky. Flowers bloom, birds sing, mushrooms erupt overnight.

Think of the last time something stopped you—the smell of the first rain, an oak blazing with autumn color, the harvest moon rising. Words fall away; the eyes widen, the jaw relaxes, and the dullness of habit dissolves.

Wonder uplifts us. Born of presence, it connects us to joy and gratitude and guides us toward intimacy with life.

It also humbles us. For wonder places our sense of self in a broader context, reminding us that we are each part of something vast. In a flash, our view expands, and a profound sense of belonging can arise—knowing our life as one unique piece of a greater whole.

This brings reverence. It affirms that simply being here is a blessing. Wonder doesn’t erase our hardships, but it situates them in a wider field of beauty and meaning.


Rekindling Wonder

This awareness is always available, yet it can be challenging to live from it. So many forces pull us away: disconnection from the land, obsession with productivity, constant screens and stimulation, a culture that privileges intellect over intuition. The pace of life leaves little room to slow down, rest or open.

Certain conditions help—physical and emotional safety, rest, nourishment, unstructured time. These aren’t required for wonder, but they’re deeply supportive. When our basic needs are met, our hearts are freer to touch wonder.

Wonder doesn’t depend on novelty or youth. It’s not something to chase or grasp intellectually. It’s about the quality of our attention. Through presence, we rekindle it. With age and perspective, our capacity for wonder may even deepen.


Wonder, Grief, and Renewal

Yet receiving wonder—especially through the natural world—often calls up grief. Our love for the earth connects us to the sorrow of its suffering. Perhaps this is one reason we resist slowing down: we sense that if we truly let ourselves open to the beauty of being alive, we’ll also touch the heartbreak of what’s been lost and what continues to be destroyed.

This pain can feel overwhelming. That’s why we need resources like compassion, courage, forgiveness, and community—to help hold the heartbreak that accompanies wonder today. Joanna Macy called this The Work That Reconnects, moving through heartbreak into empowerment and aliveness. Wonder and grief meet in the depth of our spirit. Only by staying connected to wonder and love can we bear the pain of loss and act with integrity.

I often think of those who, even amid incomprehensible suffering, still found room for wonder. Etty Hillesum, writing before her death in Auschwitz, said: “Despite everything, life is full of beauty and meaning.” Or the Palestinian poet Mosab Abu Toha, who wrote, “When you open my ear, touch it gently. My mother’s voice lingers somewhere inside.” 

These words stop the mind. They remind us that the capacity for wonder is not dependent on circumstance. It lives right here in our hearts—a doorway to mystery that reawakens our kinship with life.

Step outside or look up. Feel the aliveness of the air—the clouds moving, the wind. Any ordinary moment can become extraordinary. 

The Call to Remember

What if wonder were not just a pleasant feeling, but a calling—to recollect our interdependence, our belonging, and the sacredness of what we’ve been given? In this way, wonder becomes both a spiritual and an ethical capacity—a way of perceiving that guides how we live and care for the world. Then our work flows naturally out of compassion, just as the right hand instinctively reaches to soothe the left. 

So I invite you to explore: what’s one place you can slow down and be available to wonder? Can you pause long enough to look deeply at a tree, a glass of water, a piece of fruit—and really see it as if for the first time? 

Cultivate what the Zen tradition calls beginner’s mind. Put everything else down and come to the moment fresh.

May you rediscover the magic of our world, and may your work be fueled by love.

These reflections are based on recent teachings at my weekly group, Clear Dharma Sangha. Drop in here for a session any time.

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