Tuesday, April 28, 2026
As one matures, the wobbles aren’t as severe. You feel your feelings; you simply feel. Even when frustrated, bored, or angry, you remain in wonder. You exist in a perpetually dumbfounded state—a daze, if you will—but you learn to settle into it. You return to a more stable center. Call that centering yourself in wonder.
You feel the pull of frustration and boredom. You feel the pull of anger and finality. You feel the pang of desire and the nag of fear. Variety is fine. But then you wonder if something is out of place. Something feels unsettling—perhaps in the quiet after you awaken—and you ask: Is there something I’m “supposed to be” doing?
When you wonder if something is out of place or missing, you have wobbled. There is no “supposed to be”; there is only be. Could I be missing something about that basic truth? It’s impossible to say if anything is out of place without assuming a “what if.” And I’m no longer sure there is a “what if” or a “supposed to be.” I only wobble when I drift from “what is.” But how can I drift from what essentially is not adrift?
Is there anything that’s not supposed to be? A state of wonder has an unreal feeling to it. Something is up. It’s just that my suspicion has turned into charm, not paranoia. My fear has turned into gratitude, not bitterness. My doubt has turned into admiration and curiosity, not dread.
I can’t seem to understand, but my ignorance is appreciated. Perpetual wondering is a centered state. It’s spicy, but external variety doesn’t affect it. The real spice of life seems like coming at it from a different angle altogether–dead center.