Curiosity, wonder, and an ordinary afternoon
This week. I had a magical day, a simple one downtown on my island that taught me a piece of what’s possible in the ordinary.
The morning began with a trip to our vet to check on a growth in my dog Royce’s mouth. Honestly, the dog was less anxious about going to the vet than I was. I was haunted by the possibility that something might be terribly wrong with my beloved pal. But our vet’s calm, grounded demeanor was better than any anti-anxiety meds. She explained that the growth was common and could be easily removed. Yes, it would require surgery ($$$), but no—it was unlikely to be malignant (💜).
After taking Royce home, I headed back downtown to conduct interviews at our local radio station with three representatives from nonprofit organizations. Each guest had twenty minutes to speak about the magic of their mission and promote their funding drives. Their stories were moving and inspiring—reminders of how much good is happening in the world, even in the face of recent political turmoil.
I left the recording studio with a full heart—grateful for goodness.
Wandering
I had two open hours before an afternoon meeting, so, with no agenda, I wandered through the small downtown I know so well. I popped into the grocery store. Had a picnic at a table where I could people-watch and sketch. Chatted with a stranger. Learned about electric bikes. Did nothing—and everything.
Next stop: our local library. Instead of my usual grab-and-go with books in hand, I roamed and followed my nose. I lingered among the art books. Flipped through a few magazines. Listened to the delighted, squealing questions of a young child talking with his mom.
Soon I was smiling as I sat in my chair, realizing that I had slipped into altered space. Vacation mode. An inner state of curiosity and adventure I so often associate with faraway travel.
By the time I met up with two radio station friends for our meeting, I felt completely refreshed.
And the surprising part? It had been ridiculously simple.
Transforming the ordinary
What had I done—and how could I do it again?
Here are some clues:
I was filled with gratitude—for Royce’s health, for our community, for the sheer good fortune of being here.
I turned off the ever-clicking task list.
I let my heart feel the good that’s still being done in the world.
I saw the ordinary with new eyes—places I usually rush in and out of.
I connected with a stranger.
I turned on my curiosity-explorer self.
It reminded me of The Artist’s Way, where Julia Cameron encourages the practice of the “Artist Date”—a solo outing to nurture creativity and wonder.
In my teens and twenties, I was a world traveler. I studied and worked in Europe, Ecuador, Mali, Korea, and beyond. I still dream of travel—of returning to Paris, seeing Angkor Wat, or soaking in the art of Florence or Rome.
I want to bring that sense of adventure into my life here—without the crowds, airports, and jet lag.
I want to see the world with curiosity and wonder.
Which is exactly what I got to do—on one very ordinary afternoon.
