This detached cicada wing was hiding in the grass in my backyard. The sun caught one of the dew drops that it was trapping on its underside, glinting and capturing my gaze. My head turned and i crouched down involuntarily to see it more closely. It’s one of those moments when grace parts the curtain of thought and you are just present, responding. A gift. The wing’s fragile presence slicing though habitual preoccupation catapulting me into the realm of beholding. Once there i wonder why I ever leave.
What brings you to a state of beholding and wonder?