How Wonder, Weight, and Wisdom reframed my awakening
I didn’t set out to name the lenses. I just knew something had shifted—first in how I saw the world, then in how I moved through it.
For years, I called it survival. Later, performance. Then came presence.
But eventually, I realized: these weren’t just phases. They weren’t moods. They weren’t moments. They were lenses—and they were operating systems.
Ways of seeing. Ways of living.
Worldviews.
Each one told a different story—about who I was, what mattered, and where freedom could be found. And each one told the truth—until it didn’t.
Wonder: What the MAN Couldn’t Touch
This is where we begin.
It’s the part of us that still believes—not in outcomes or proof, but in rhythm. In enough. In something more than control.
Wonder isn’t naivety—it’s untouched wisdom. The ability to see without owning. To be amazed without needing to measure. It asks nothing. It just watches. And worships.
If you’ve ever sat in silence and felt full, you’ve seen through this lens. If you’ve ever looked at the sky and forgot who you were supposed to be—you’ve remembered.
The MAN can’t touch wonder. But he can convince you it’s useless.
Weight: The Gospel of More
This is the lens most of us wear—quietly, gradually, without knowing.
It doesn’t show up with force. It arrives with expectations. Metrics. Applause. Praise dressed as pressure.
You don’t wake up in chains. You wake up in roles.
What began as potential becomes pressure.
What began as promise becomes performance.
What began as you becomes him—the MAN.
The Weight lens doesn’t deny truth. It buries it in productivity.
You become the brand. The provider. The projection. And when the mask begins to peel, you’re not breaking. You’re awakening.
Wisdom: The Lens You Don’t Wear
You don’t choose this lens. You arrive at it.
Sometimes through fracture. Sometimes through grace. Often through exhaustion.
Wisdom is what remains when wonder survives the weight.
It doesn’t perform. It doesn’t seek applause. It doesn’t fight the MAN. It simply outgrows him.
This is the lens of return. Not to who you were, but to who you always were beneath the chase.
When presence becomes your pace. When silence no longer feels like absence.
This isn’t retirement. It’s resurrection.
A Bridge Between Works
If The Wardrobe of the Soul explores what we wear to survive, this reflection explores what we come to see—through those seasons, and beyond them.
The lenses we live through don’t just shape how we see.
They shape what we wear, what we carry, and eventually—what we’re willing to lay down.
Thirukkural Reflection
எப்பொருள் எத்தன்மைத் தாயினும் அப்பொருள்
மெய்ப்பொருள் காண்பது அறிவுEpporuḷ ettaṉmait tāyiṉum apporuḷ
Meypporuḷ kāṇpatu aṟivuWhatever thing, of whatsoever kind it be,
’Tis wisdom’s part in each the very thing to see.— Thirukkural 355
True wisdom begins when we stop reacting to the surface—and start seeing the essence.
The lens may distort. The world may distract. But the truth is always there, waiting to be seen for what it is.
Reflection Prompts
- Which lens do you find yourself living through most often: Wonder, Weight, or Wisdom?
- How has your worldview been shaped by what you’ve carried—or what you were taught to chase?
- What parts of yourself feel remembered when you pause instead of perform?
- Where are you being invited to return—not as who you were, but as who you truly are?
Keep Seeing Clearly 👁️
If this helped you name your lens, continue the arc.
