The great scientist Louis Pasteur once said: “«To wonder at everything is the first step of reason toward discovery.»
Children author and psychotherapist Luigi Ballerini echoes this in the article that inspired this reflection.[1]: "Ultimately, wonder is a form of trust […] It is the conviction that there is still a world waiting to be discovered, understood, encountered. This explains why losing our sense of wonder is so serious: without it, life sinks into the repetition of a tired gaze that no longer sees anything. […] When we lose the capacity for wonder, we do not become more realistic or efficient; we merely lose the possibility of being challenged by reality again, of recognising that we ourselves can continue to change and grow through what we encounter."
Wonder reminds us that not everything is under our control. It invites us to welcome what comes with openness, to recognise the small signals life sends us, and to be grateful for them. Wonder calls us back to astonishment — that extraordinary ability children have to open themselves to life and to relationships. These dimensions, so deeply human, have been central to the adventure of human thought for millennia, teaching us to step outside ourselves and move toward others who may be waiting for us, who live the same daily struggles and the same hopes.
Today, the challenges posed by social media and artificial intelligence seem to dim this capacity. Have we already seen everything? And more importantly: are we becoming accustomed to everything? Often it is the smallest gestures that rekindle astonishment.
To be astonished is to keep alive our ability to marvel, learn from what is new, and recognise the value of the people and situations we meet. It means refusing to be indifferent to pain and suffering, seeing reality with attentive openness, putting ourselves in others’ shoes, listening and offering support without judgement, and caring for those facing significant or difficult moments.
There are countless everyday stories of struggle, illness, and lives that seem lost or without meaning; and yet there is always the possibility that the ending has not yet been written. In families, in places of care, we can often witness — with genuine wonder — signs of the most powerful revolution: a greater love capable of going beyond what one might expect.
Let us allow ourselves to be surprised, with vulnerability and humility, by what comes to meet us. And let us ensure that this openness does not remain hidden inside us, but becomes visible in our relationships, in the way we live together, and in the fabric of the generations to come.