The Power of Wonder Part 5
April 25, 2026
The Power of Wonder Part 5
It is a wondrous day, simply because it is still unfolding.
Not because circumstances are perfect. Not because everything is resolved. But because this day, like every day, is brimming with possibility. Beneath the surface of routines, relationships, and responsibilities lies a hidden current of awe waiting to be noticed. What appears to be an ordinary day carries an extraordinary mystery… if we are aware.
This morning, the light drew me outside. The patio, bathed in early sun, whispered an invitation: come, sit, be still. And so I did. The warmth of the sunlight wrapped itself around me, not just as heat, but as presence. It led me inward, into that gentle, spacious place we call silence. There, thoughts drifted through my mind like small boats on a slow river. Each one carried meaning, each one passed by. And then, as if by grace, the river grew quiet. No more boats. No more movement.
Only being.
Only stillness.
In that stillness, a familiar wonder arose again: How is it that the sun, ninety-three million miles away, can touch me here, now?
Light traveling at unimaginable speed—crossing the vastness of space in just over eight minutes, arrives not with noise or force, but as warmth on my skin. The very light surrounding me in this moment began its journey only minutes ago, over ninety-three million miles away from me. That realization never loses its power. It humbles me. It awakens me. It fills me with wonder.
After the last weeks filled with movement, travel, teaching, and gatherings, this day stands in contrast. It is unscheduled. Open. Quiet. A blank canvas. And yet, in that openness, something unexpected stirs: a subtle unease. What if I accomplish nothing today? What if I simply sit here? Shouldn’t I be doing something to make this day worthwhile?
Isn’t it curious? The very stillness we long for can unsettle us when it finally arrives. The mind resists what the soul deeply needs. But I stay. I allow the quiet to deepen. I let stillness have its way with me. And slowly, something arises.
I remember: the same sunlight that races across the universe at incredible speed does not remain in motion when it reaches the earth. It softens. It settles. It pours itself into the soil, the trees, the waters, into all living things. What was once swift becomes settled. What was once rapid movement becomes nourishment. What was once blazing heat, enters my body and warms my heart.
In the same way, this stillness is not emptiness, but transformation.
The fear of “wasting the day” gently dissolves. How could stillness be a waste? How could wonder ever be unproductive? Perhaps this is the deeper invitation: not to fill every moment, but to receive it. Not to chase meaning, but to notice it. Because if we take the time to contemplate it, even the quietest day holds the sacred, waiting patiently for our attention.
Spiritual practice: What is your relationship with wonder? Do you rush past it, or do you allow it to open you? In meditation, let your present thoughts pass by like boats on a river, until they get fewer and fewer. Then what do you experience?
Self-inquiry: Why might you resist wonder in the stillness? What are you afraid you might find there?
Prayer:
Dear God, For the gift of rest, for the grace of wonder, and for the quiet that restores my soul, I give You thanks and praise. Amen.
