Wonder. How did you cultivate a sense of wonder in your life this year?
I didn't cultivate wonder this year, alas. So much of my year was spent in just living one day at a time, getting through the muck and the worry and the fears and the gotta-dos. It was not a year of depression and angst, mind you (and I've had those), but it was one of just getting through and making do.
But there were wonderous moments nonetheless.
As I have for many years, I did plant a garden again this year. It was not the biggest nor most prolific I've done, but I never fail to marvel at how those tiny, shriveled-up seeds result in little green shoots poking above my rocky soil, and then how they grow into bushy, big-leaved zucchini plants that offer slender green fruits, or into leafy vines that wander where they will and give me long, pale ribbed cucumbers, or bright orange marigolds that not only protect the veggies but survive the early frosts and keep their perky bright heads nodding in the wind and despite the baking sun in our hot summers.
I give them dirt (fed by compost) and water, Mother Nature gives them sun, and they grow into food that sustains me. That is miraculous. That never fails to thrill my soul.
I am my best self when I'm by the ocean, that rocking cradle of life that has lapped at shores since earth was formed and will be there long after my essence is returned to the Universe. I know where I am when I'm standing on her wondrous shore; I feel her heartbeat inside me. More than anywhere else, the ocean awes me, calms me, stimulates me, scares me with its power and feeds me with its changeable constancy.