I was raised on the television show Little Einsteins. My first friends were the kids flying around in a big red rocket ship, teaching me about art, dancing, singing, and classical music. I idolized the character that could play every instrument with ease, stubby cartoon fingers wrapped around a flute or a violin. His name was Quincy, and I wanted to be just like him.
That opportunity arose over a decade later, as I was starting middle school. My aunt was cleaning out her garage, found the violin her daughter quit playing, and passed it along to me.
I joined a beginning orchestra and plucked and screeched my way into a passion, just like the kid on the TV. Practicing was the only thing I wanted to do, Disney songs and simplified classical themes, feeling the wood humming under my chin and the strings sliding beneath my fingers. But my very favorite part was when I could sit in class and play, feet firmly planted, eyes locked on the conductor.
The basses sent this beautiful vibration through the linoleum and into my legs, where I imagined my bones sharing that sympathetic frequency. In that room, I was part of the music, a limb of some great creature, and a member of an incredibly tightly-knit community.
This love only intensified as I gained proficiency and joined a more advanced group. Now, we moved in sync, breathing as one and swaying together to our music. Just after winter break, our conductor passed out a new piece to the group. It was called Jupiter: the Bringer of Jollity, an excerpt from a much larger classical suite inspired by the planets. Jupiter was a slow, beautiful, celestial theme that required absolute precision and perfect tone, but when we succeeded I felt like I was flying. My violin, my hands, my mind weren’t my own anymore.
It brought me absolute peace and comfort, even as quarantine separated us all. In my darkest moments, I have turned to that piece of music to remember that I am part of something so much larger than myself.
Constant Wonder is a unique podcast in the way it gives that exact same reminder. It invites you to pause, zoom out, and realize that we live in a vast and wonderful world full of beauty and peace. You just need to look for that beauty, and it will gather to you.
Photo by Manuel Nägeli on Unsplash





What a lovely piece to read! You are so talented with your words and the adjectives you chose. Beautifully written!