For Awakening Wonder
Dear Fellow Dreamer,
When was the last time you felt a sense of awe in an ordinary day? Was it from being in nature? A creative accomplishment? Something you saw or read?
Welcoming amazement into our lives can wake us up from the trance of old conventions, unconscious routines, negativity, and the weight of a fraught world that’s always been fierce and chaotic. Awakening wonder may be a kind of lifting of the veil.
To what? A new sense of possibility. Greater visions, intuitions, and dreams—the ones that come to us at night, and the dreams we build by day, and realize. Fresh awe at the mystery in which we live. Astonishment in the presence of beauty. And the amplified sense of aliveness we experience in following our own inner compass, whatever that may be.
Many years ago, while reading an interview with Canadian novelist Martha Brooks, I came across these words:
Frank Fools Crow, the great Native American holy man and healer, talked about praying each day to “become little hollow bones for the Creator’s light.” I love that image of emptying yourself, of becoming an instrument for beauty. And what I want most for my readers is that they will be transported inside the walls of my work, into those lighted spaces.
I remember the prickling down my arms at discovering that someone had expressed so accurately what I’d sensed, but had never articulated, about my own hopes and desires in the creative process. Knowing I’d want to return often to Brooks’ message, I copied the quote, combined it with an image of rolling fields, and fastened the page to a bulletin board in my office. Even now, on some days, walking from one desk to another, I still pause to read those words.
Across time and cultures (though not always in our own), the role of the artist has often been viewed as a spiritual calling. Not a religious one in any dogmatic sense. But spiritual, nonetheless. Yet that could be said for many roles, many fields.
At our best, we offer ourselves as channels for something greater than ourselves, whatever that something is. And when it happens, or feels like it does, we know. Because we lose sight of ourselves and let the work take over. Serving the work becomes our gift. One both given and received. And that sense of emptying ourselves to become instruments, hollow bones—that can bring us to wonder.
As a writer, I believe the arts offer us opportunities to awaken our sense of awe. And I believe in the power of language to enchant, illuminate, move, and inspire us. As a coach, I believe that building dreams makes wonder welcome in our lives. Our world.
My hope for this mutual space is that, inside it, I can serve you by sharing insights and inspiration. Stories of the creative process. Books and pieces I love by other writers. Excerpts from my fiction and nonfiction. Poetry—my own and others’ work. Audio and video recordings. Stories of transformation, along with principles and tools we can use to make beneficial changes in our creative lives. And of course, suggestions for reflection and discussion.
I consider this account sacred because we’re here together to ponder writing, art, life, creativity, and purpose. I’d love to hear from you in the comments, and to respond to your thoughts, questions, and stories, too.
What does wonder mean to you? What steps could you take today to make it welcome in your life?
May this be a lighted space for you.
