Awe

I was in a place I hadn’t been before the other day. New street, new light, new sounds. The type of novelty that usually pulls my attention outward, scanning and naming.

What surprised me was how familiar the feeling underneath was.

The pause.

The slight widening in the chest.

That quiet sense of oh, there you are.

It wasn’t different from the awe I’ve felt in places I know well. The corner I’ve walked a hundred times.

The novelty belonged to the setting, not to the attention.

What stayed with me was how little the place mattered once I stopped trying to take it in. Awe didn’t need the newness. It showed up the same way it always does, when I slowed down enough to notice.

There’s something steady about that.

As if wonder isn’t something we find, but something that meets us wherever we are.