Let wonder be the compass that stills your hurry and starts your work. — Gabriela Mistral
A Compass Called Wonder
Gabriela Mistral—Chilean poet, educator, and Nobel laureate (1945)—often linked tenderness to purpose, teaching to service. Her line directs us to treat wonder not as ornament but as instrument: a compass. It quiets the frantic pace that scatters attention and, paradoxically, becomes the prime mover of meaningful effort. In Mistral’s classrooms and poems, reverence for the world preceded craft; one listens before one writes, one looks before one acts. Thus the sentence arranges a sequence: first awe, then stillness, then work.
Stillness Over Speed
To see why stillness matters, consider how hurry degrades judgment. Cardiologists Meyer Friedman and Ray Rosenman warned of “hurry sickness” among Type A patterns (c. 1974), and Daniel Kahneman’s Thinking, Fast and Slow (2011) shows that slower, deliberative cognition is essential for accuracy. Wonder helps us enter that slower mode. Experiments on awe found that it expands the perception of time and increases patience (Rudd, Vohs, and Aaker, Psychological Science, 2012). In other words, amazement lengthens our inner clock, creating the calm in which attention can settle.
Curiosity That Starts the Work
Once quieted, the mind reaches outward. Teresa Amabile’s Creativity in Context (1996) demonstrates that intrinsic motivation—curiosity, interest, enjoyment—predicts creative performance more reliably than external rewards. Wonder supplies this intrinsic spark: it makes a task feel like a question we want to answer. Hence scientists and artists alike report that fascination carries them past the hard part of beginning; as Einstein reportedly put it, he was “only passionately curious.” From this ignition, momentum gathers and effort becomes sustainable.
A Long Tradition of Amazement
Historically, wonder has been the gateway to inquiry. Aristotle opens Metaphysics with the claim that philosophy begins in wonder (982b). Centuries later, Abraham Joshua Heschel called for “radical amazement” as the root of wisdom (God in Search of Man, 1955). Rachel Carson’s The Sense of Wonder (1965) urges adults to protect children’s “inborn sense of wonder,” arguing that it precedes knowledge and deepens it. These voices converge with Mistral’s: amazement is not a detour from work; it is the approach road.
From Awe to Skillful Practice
Yet wonder alone is not a deliverable; it must flow into craft. John Dewey’s Art as Experience (1934) describes how attentive encounter ripens into disciplined making. Likewise, Mihály Csíkszentmihályi showed that focused, challenging activity—flow—arises when attention is fully engaged (1990). The sequence becomes cyclical: awe sharpens attention; attention refines skill; skill, in turn, reveals more to marvel at. A botanist’s field sketch or a luthier’s first cut shows how reverence for material leads to precise, patient technique.
Practices That Orient the Compass
Practically, we can court wonder on ordinary days. Try slow looking: spend five minutes with one object before deciding what it is—an approach studied in Project Zero’s “Visible Thinking” routines at Harvard. Seed sessions with questions, not answers: What surprised me? What do I still not understand? Short nature walks aid attentional reset (Kaplan and Kaplan’s Attention Restoration Theory, 1989). Use constraint sprints—only black ink, one page, 30 minutes—to focus perception. Finally, keep a “noticing log” to capture moments of amazement before they evaporate.
An Ethic for Teams and Classrooms
Ultimately, wonder thrives where cultures protect it. Amy Edmondson’s research on psychological safety (1999) shows that teams learn better when members can ask naive questions without penalty. Montessori classrooms cultivate curiosity by structuring independence and sensory exploration. Even the “Slow Science Manifesto” (2010) pleads for time to think before results. When leaders model unhurried attention and allocate protected time for exploration, Mistral’s compass scales from the individual to the collective—stilling organizational haste and starting better, braver work.