A Case for Wonder

We need wonder in our lives now more than ever.

Sure, there’s a long list of things we could use. Peace, for one. Rest that runs deeper than a good night's sleep. Joy that lasts longer than a dopamine hit. Perspective to help us navigate our complex world.

But then there’s wonder. The sense that magic’s lurking if our eyes are open to it. Not the kind of magic that requires special effects or sleight of hand, but the magic of connection and discovery, surprise and delight. 

That's exactly what we reclaimed this weekend at Community Happens Here.

We took time to create together. To sit together. And to talk. We asked questions like, "When's the last time you experienced something magical?" The answers were revealing. One parent spoke about the birth of his daughter. Others recalled travel. Or times in nature. 

“Today, I got to be a Fairy Princess at Community Happens Here and make wands & flower crowns. So much fun!”

Wonder, it turns out, doesn't require grand gestures or exotic locations. It requires attention.

There are many things we need as humans. The basics, of course: shelter that feels like home, connection that goes deeper than small talk, sleep that actually restores us, food that nourishes both body and spirit.

But wonder belongs on that list as well.

Wonder is what reminds us that we're alive to something bigger than our own small stories. It's what helps us see our neighbors as complex, beautiful, surprising people rather than obstacles to our productivity or supporting characters in our personal narratives.

Wonder is what makes us pause long enough to notice that the world is still capable of astonishing us, even when everything in life feels predictable or overwhelming or broken.

In our neighborhood, wonder looks like adults and children learning from each other. It looks like conversations that meander toward meaning. It looks like celebrating the small discoveries that happen when we slow down long enough to pay attention.

At our enchanted tea gatherings, we remembered that magic isn't something we've outgrown.

It's something we've simply forgotten how to see.

And something that’s always waiting whenever we choose to look for it.