Nourish Your Sense of Wonder

Nourish Your Sense of Wonder
Scottish Highlands, June 2022.

So many of us feel the immense energy of our natural world and there can be a kind of environmental grief paired with this love of nature. Those of us with a sensitivity to what happens in the world are often deep thinkers and there was a time when I thought of this as a curse. I felt easily prone to suffering and taking on the weight of other stories.

Nothing of my nature has changed, I still feel quite affected by simple things, but I am learning to turn sensitivity into power.

To know that empathy is power, kindness is power, pacifisim in a world of war is power.

The poem below is about that. About accepting our true nature and learning to see blessings instead of focusing on uncertainty. There are many tides seemingly beyond our control, but we always have the power in how we react to the world.

Don’t lose your sense of wonder on this Eathbound journey we share. Walk forward with thoughts lifted up by the rain, the sun- sets, and the tiny details apparent at each corner. Look for them and feel their joy.

Let nature be your guide.

The world speaks to us in color;
even those who cannot see,
soft tones fill the ear.
Even those who cannot hear,
the world speaks softer still through the beating heart.

Is it a blessing or a curse
to feel the rain and feel the sea?
To touch every wind,
turn birds into a symphony,
to let dust fall like boulders upon an open heart?

When we step beyond the bright day,
we are blinded not by light;
we are blinded by
all that is hidden from sight,
all that exists in between the beats of a heart.

Is it a blessing or a curse,
to wander the endless road
hand in hand with thought;
feet upon lands we borrowed,
questioning every single leaf that crosses the heart?

Let us live in this blessed curse
where shifts of shadow shift us,
where empty fields sing,
where each sunrise holds our wish
and where the lingering moon finds a lost heart.

Let us live this cursed blessing,
where each walk is a journey,
where trees dance the night,
where each storm speaks our yearning,
and where every blade of blown grass weaves together a broken heart.

Written by Karla Sanders @karlasandersart | Photos by Steven Tiller @steventiller