Its holiday time in the small seaside village where I live,
and it's always easy to tell the people who are not from here.
They arrive at the beach with umbrellas, marquees, coolers, furniture, magazines and iPads.
They have more stuff on the sand than I have in my living room.
They bring Grandparents who rest in the shade, Mums who slather everyone with sunscreen,
Dads who organize games of beach cricket, and fair skinned children
who squeal with amazement and delight at the first touch of a wave on their feet.
They seem so far removed from me - who wanders down to the ocean shirtless
and barely goes a day without salt on my skin.
And yet the beach treats us all the same. It doesn't differentiate, it doesn't judge,
it doesn't care where we come from or how much money we have.
It is just there… for us all equally to enjoy.
I love watching these people, because they help to re awaken the wonder in me.
The wonder of living a few steps away from the sea.
The wonder of falling asleep with a salt breeze blowing across my face
and the sound of the waves crashing in my ears.
The wonder of waking up as a pastel red sunrise paints the ocean.
And the wonder of having this inspiration to weave into my words and my music at any time.
Perhaps you live in a place blessed with obvious natural wonder like me.
Or perhaps you pause for a moment on your way to work in a crowded bustling city…
and notice the wonder of a blade of grass pushing its way through a crack in a dirty sidewalk.
The wonder of the shafts of glowing sunlight dancing their way between the buildings,
or the wonder on the face of a child seeing it all for the very first time.
We are all surrounded by wonder… some obvious, some more subtle.
The wonder of life, wherever you are.
But how often do we really see it, feel it… and give thanks for it?
Bring on the wonder!