The Hindus say that God created the universe as a dance—a cosmic expression performed purely for the joy of creation reflecting back at Him. This idea suggests that the very fabric of existence is a playful expression of awe, a reminder of divine beauty that Source experiences through the mirror of its own creations. And, in many ways, we humans are invited to participate in this dance whenever we create something ourselves.
I find this sense of awe in the most personal moments—when the things I bring into being reflect back at me in unexpected beauty. I felt it when I used to paint. Hours or even days after finishing a piece, I’d catch a glimpse of it and feel a deep, silent joy, mesmerized by the fact that something that started as an idea now existed, alive on the canvas. That same feeling stirs when I write a compelling essay or blog post, or when I step back to admire the website I built. Every piece reflects not only my effort but some deeper sense of connection—a glimpse into the magic of creation itself.
This feeling of wonder shows up in the smallest of daily rituals. Every morning, I feel grateful as I walk through my upstairs rooms, still in awe of our cozy home. It hits me when I finish getting ready for a night out, seeing my reflection in the mirror—hair done, makeup just right—and thinking, Wow, I did that. Or when I see photographs from an event I attended and can’t help but smile at the way everything came together so beautifully. The same thing happens when I make a meal from scratch. It’s not just the food; it’s the alchemy of seeing raw ingredients transformed into something nourishing and delicious, especially when shared with others.
Interestingly, this feeling of awe rarely comes from simply buying something. While a new purchase may bring fleeting satisfaction, that joy is often muted—sometimes even disappointing if driven by ego, when the object doesn’t create the happiness I expected. But the smallest personal touch—like arranging flowers just right, folding towels in an elegant way, or refurbishing an old item—somehow imbues it with a sense of magic. I remember this distinctly from the days I used to refurbish furniture. After painting a piece, adding new hardware, and sealing it with a glossy topcoat, I’d go back to the garage again and again just to sneak a peek, feeling a little surge of joy each time.
I’ve seen this same sense of satisfaction in my father-in-law after he flips a house or completes a renovation project. I can tell that he, too, sits back afterward, silently admiring the beauty of what his hands have brought to life. It’s a moment of quiet reverence—a connection to something bigger than the task itself.
Perhaps this is what creation is really about: experiencing the joy of seeing something come to life from nothing. In these small moments of awe, I think we tap into something divine. Maybe this is why Source created the universe in the first place—so that He could gaze upon His own creation and marvel at the beauty reflected back. And if that’s true, then the wonder I feel at my own humble creations is just a small taste of the immense awe Source must feel when He looks upon the stars, the galaxies, the oceans, and even you and me.
The spiritual teaching that resonates with me is that Source chose to limit itself—splintering into countless human forms, each of us playing a part in this grand game of separation and reunion. It’s as if the purpose of life is to see how much limitation, darkness, and forgetfulness we can endure, and yet still find our way back to joy, love, and awe. To create beauty despite fear and hardship, to love despite separation, and to reconnect with the truth of who we really are: perfect reflections of Source itself.
Every time we create—whether it’s a painting, a meal, a home, or even a meaningful conversation—we are tapping into that original spark. These moments of awe serve as gentle reminders of our true nature. We are not just humans toiling away in isolation; we are aspects of the divine, playing with creation, peeking into the eyes of Source through the things we bring into the world. And every time we admire the beauty in our own handiwork, we are, in a way, glimpsing the same love and admiration Source feels when gazing at all of existence—flowers, stars, volcanoes, and yes, even us.
In these moments of awe, we are not just observers. We become portals—brief windows into the infinite joy and wonder that lies at the heart of all things. Through our creations, we reflect Source back to itself, continuing the dance that has been unfolding since the beginning of time.
With love and gratitude for the dance,
Austin, TX 78665
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