look smaller

Perhaps wonder didn't disappear. Perhaps we simply became too tall to notice it. 

When we go looking for something remarkable, we tend to look outward.

Toward mountains.

Sunsets.

Oceans.

Wide skies.

Things large enough to demand our attention.

But today, don't look farther.

Look smaller.

Step outside if you can.

Or begin exactly where you are.

Find something tiny.

A seed.

A button.

A grain of sand.

The curl at the end of a fern.

A crumb left by breakfast.

A patch of moss growing between stones.

The veins running through a fallen leaf.

The tiny stitches holding together the hem of your shirt.

A feather no longer than your fingertip.

The intricate center of a flower you have seen a hundred times but never truly examined.

Get close.

Closer than you normally would.

Notice how much exists there.

Patterns.

Textures.

Structures.

Colors within colors.

Little imperfections.

Evidence of growth.

Evidence of use.

Perhaps even evidence of an entire life happening at a scale we rarely bother to visit.

The world does not become less extraordinary because something is small.

Sometimes smallness is where the extraordinary has been hiding.

A Little More, If You'd Like

Choose something small enough to hold in your hand.

Before examining it closely, guess what you think you already know about it.

Then investigate.

Turn it over.

Look beneath it.

Hold it toward the light.

If you have a magnifying glass, use it.

If your phone camera allows you to zoom in closely, try that too.

Look for one thing you have never noticed before.

Then find another tiny thing.

And another.

You might even begin a temporary collection:

Three interesting seeds.

Five different leaves.

Tiny stones.

Shell fragments.

Buttons from the bottom of a sewing tin.

Nothing needs to be purchased.

Nothing needs to become a permanent collection.

The point isn't to possess these things.

It is simply to become acquainted with them.

And when you're finished, return anything belonging outdoors to where you found it.

There are worlds beneath our feet.

Sometimes wonder asks us to kneel down.