Wonder
Well hello there,
I hope that this April letter finds you well and soaking up spring (for those of us in the Northern Hemisphere anyway). Our theme to chew on this month is ‘wonder’ so here’s your invitation to slow down for some reflections, a practice and questions to contemplate. To begin, I wonder if you can remember something that has made you look up recently?
Some Ponderings
It was Dr Hilary McBride who provoked my thoughts on wonder. She’s a therapist, speaker, writer, researcher and her recent book The Wisdom of Your Body: Finding Healing, Wholeness, and Connection through Embodied Living looks worth a read. I heard her share a gorgeous meditation as part of the Evolving Faith conference, during which she said:
“Remembering of our bodily selves is a spiritual practice when we experience our bodies with curiosity and wonder, but also the place where our curiosity and wonder lives. Wonder and curiosity are hallmarks of spirituality, which support pleasure, growth, wholeness, and our spiritual resilience in the face of wounding. And they can be a way we turn towards our bodies and come home to ourselves, as well as being something located in our body. In that way, wonder and curiosity act as the bridge between our body and our spirituality.”
- Dr Hilary McBride
This idea stuck with me; wonder as a bridge to help us connect and integrate our whole selves. Last month we considered presence and wonder is surely the sister of presence, two practices that can connect us to our deeper selves.
My earliest memory is of running through tunnels of colour and light, with my godfather Mark. I assumed it was a dream until I mentioned it to my mum and she knew the moment, an art exhibition we went to in Glasgow when I wasn’t yet three. The first memory that stuck with me was a moment of wonder. When I try to tune in to more recent experiences of wonder, I find myself clutching each of my tiny brand-new-to-the-world babies. I wonder at the kids in their usual childhood occupations: jumping terrifying distances, playing imaginary games with pegs, delighting in learning (How am I learning to read mummy? It’s magical! - Micah age 5). Or I’m outside: sitting in our garden, walking under trees or adventuring further afield. We hiked in the Drakensberg Mountains in South Africa, a steep, tiring climb which suddenly emerged onto what felt like a meadow up a mountain. I still remember the physical feeling of openness under my ribs in that wide, bright space. Slowness, play and being in creation are all potential gateways to wonder for me if I’m willing to enter in.
I know many of you will not be surprised that our cartoon friend Bluey has something to say to wonder. In ‘Born Yesterday’ Bandit (Bluey’s dad) pretends that this is his second day on earth and the kids have to explain daily life to him. The episode ends with Bandit sitting in the garden enthralled by a leaf, continuing in wonder although the kids are long finished with the game.
“The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.”
― W.B. Yeats
When we discussed wonder at a recent Sunday Soul Session there was consensus that it felt healthy: ‘instant escapism’, ‘an injection of joy’ and like something we wanted. In conversation we asked how do we place ourselves to experience wonder? How do we give ourselves the permission to slow down? Life is full of newness for children, can we borrow their curiosity? How does privilege interact with wonder? How do we hold space for wonder for ourselves and those around us?1
Here are some moments of wonder shared at during that Soul Session2:
Swimming outdoors. Watching a ladybird. Waiting for a rainbow. Being amongst trees. Listening to a busker. Watching Northern Lights. Feeling the movement of a growing baby. Spotting planets lined up next to the moon. Sharing peekaboo with a baby. Watching frogs amidst frogspawn. Paddle boarding.
It’s not a coincidence that I found myself taking a daffodil detour home from school the morning after this discussion. I wandered with the twins under the trees and by the stream of our Tollcross Park soaking up the opportunity for wonder. I am drawn to spiritual practices like this one that have potential to fit, rather than frustrate, this mothering season of life.
The world will never starve for want of wonders; but only for want of wonder.
- G.K. Chesterton
A Practice
(borrowed and adapted from Dr Hilary McBride)
I invite you to take a quiet moment to pause and remember a time when you felt amazed or full of wonder. As you stay with that moment, pay attention to your self by slowly scanning through your body for any physical sensations that you notice. Take your time and consider your neck, the space in your chest or belly, your arms and legs. Where does wonder sit in your body?
Next consider that felt sense of wonder reflected back towards yourself and notice what happens for you as you do this. What is it like to be seeing yourself or to be seen with wonder, as a body right here in this moment exactly as you are?
Prompts to Contemplate
You could choose a couple of these to journal about, or dwell on over a cup of tea.
How does wonder feel in your body? When and where have you felt wonder?
Does wonder hide, waiting for us to notice her? Or does she surprise us with peekaboo?
What prevents you from being ‘a child of wonder’3?
Lovely Links
The Sacred Podcast Episode 119: Frank Cottrell–Boyce on wonder, forgiveness and the writer's calling. This is a beautiful conversation that introduced me to the G. K. Chesterton quote above.
Wild Isles by the BBC. It’s been a delightful surprise that all six of us enjoy watching David Attenborough together. These glimpses into the natural world draw me towards astonishment if I let them.
Enchantment by Katherine May. I loved Wintering, so when I saw Katherine May had a book out about wonder it went straight on my library request list. Here’s a long read extract of one of my favourite chapters so far.
“Enchantment is small wonder magnified through meaning, fascination caught in a web of fable and memory. It relies on small doses of awe, almost homeopathic: those quiet traces of fascination that are found only when we look for them. It is the sense that we are joined together in one continuous thread of existence with the elements constituting this earth, and that there is a potency trapped in this interconnection, a tingle on the border of our perception. It is the forgotten seam in our geology, the elusive particle that binds our unstable matter: the ability to sense magic in the everyday, to channel it through our minds and bodies, to be sustained by it.”
- Katherine May
May we place ourselves on the path of wonder.
May we receive her gentle surprises,
as interruptions become invitations.
And may we allow daily beauty
and savoured moments
to renew and nourish us.
Thanks for joining me here. I’d love to hear about your experiences of wonder in the comments.
P.S. My hope is that these monthly newsletters will invite you to take a quiet moment and pay attention to the questions your life is asking you. So if they’re sitting in your inbox making you feel guilty, you have my full permission to delete them. You can always find them on the website and I personally find it a calmer experience reading using the Substack app, rather than reading in squeezed email inbox time.
Thanks to the attendees of March’s Soul Session aka Wonder Women for the inspiration.
If you’re local to Glasgow and would like to attend a Soul Session, do get in touch.