Study the Speck, then Behold the Cosmos…
“The true wonder of the world is available everywhere, in the minutest parts of our bodies, in the vast expanses of the cosmos, and in the interconnectedness of these and all things.” ― Michael Stark
This past weekend, I stumbled across a recording of Matthew McConaughey sharing his thoughts on the important of wonder before he reads “A Sleep Story: Wonder.”
Originally created for the Calm sleep app back in 2018, the story, written by Chris Advansun, uses the wonders of the cosmos and the beauty of things gazed at close in to help us unwind and shift from worries about the future into peace in the present moment (leading hopefully to falling asleep).
A perfect message after such a stressful week of news.
How are you taking care of yourself during this time of one reported disaster after another, the loss of cultural icons like Dolly Parton, and political news that sometimes defies logic? Whether you’ve paid close attention to what’s unfolding or not, the impact of it all may have shaken your faith in the future. Look to wonder as your free immediate antidote to the anxiety, fear, or despair these events can trigger.
“Let me keep my mind on what matters which is my work, which is mostly standing still and learning to be astonished…” ―Mary Oliver
From zooming in on the details of amazing life unfolding around you to widening your gaze to the breath-taking beauty and vastness of the stars, these two ways of gazing at the world can help you shift from worry into wonder and eventually peace.
May you remember to zoom in to “study the speck” or widen your gaze to behold the cosmos—to let wonder do its work—whenever you find yourself caught in anxiety or fear for the future.
“The moment one gives close attention to anything, even a blade of grass, it becomes a mysterious, awesome, indescribably magnificent world in itself.” ―Henry Miller
Messenger
My work is loving the world.
Here the sunflowers, there the hummingbird—
equal seekers of sweetness.
Here the quickening yeast there the blue plums.
Here the clam deep in the speckled sand.
Are my boots old? Is my coat torn?
Am I no longer young, and still not half-perfect? Let me
keep my mind on what matters,
which is my work,
which is mostly standing still and learning to be
astonished.
The phoebe, the delphinium.
The sheep in the pasture, and the pasture.
Which is mostly rejoicing, since all the ingredients are here,
which is gratitude, to be given a mind and a heart
and these body-clothes,
a mouth with which to give shouts of joy
to the moth and the wren, to the sleepy dug-up clam,
telling them all, over and over, how it is
that we live forever.
—Mary Oliver, from Thirst (Beacon Press, Boston, 2006)
