Welcome

“I’ve lost that easy access to feeling wonderment about humanity, and I struggle to really find it except with a few fully vetted people, and I freaking miss being easily in love with the whole world.”

It was a cold and gray autumn day. 2017. My friend Natalie Kinsey casually shared these words with her whole Facebook community. She lives on the other side of the country from me. We’ve been friends for seven years, and I adore her: this playfulness muse, this writing peer, this lover of trees and of wandering, like me, and this raiser of magical wonder-filled children. She’s one of my live-a-wild-and-wide-open-life gurus. I’ve also never met her in person, and I hadn’t yet discussed the name or the contents of the new book with her. I sat in my chair, stunned. My mouth dropped open a tiny bit. Then I got goosebumps. Then tears welled up in my eyes. Gratitude. Wonder. Oh. She’d just written the audience description for Unshaken Wonder without even trying. Wow. Wait. That can’t be possible. What? How’d she do that?!

Flooded with curiosity and with words not hindered by thought or by worry, I gushed “What the hell is happening right here? I’m starting to doubt my belief in free will and freak out a little about the fact that the book I just wrote and am handing off to my editor tomorrow (Unshaken Wonder: Becoming Playful Elders Together) seems to be nothing more than something you quietly wished for today. And you just wrote the audience statement for this new book—your words, right there—almost the same moment that my book is done. Thank you for that. As a gift I will mail you a copy for free in case you trip over your couch or can’t get out your windows some days this winter.” I looked up from my screen and noticed, through my tears, that the sun had come out.