THE WONDER OF IT ALL
ALM No.94, October 2026
ESSAYS
Here we are, where the improbable meets the inevitable. Somewhere in the quiet architecture of biology, a single cell won a race against roughly two hundred million others - on a specific night, in a specific place, between two people who first had to find each other across the unlikely surface of the earth. Move any one piece - a delayed train, a canceled flight, a war that took a different turn, a letter that arrived a week late – and the whole chain snaps. Someone else is born instead. Or no one is.
And yet here we are - you and I. The chain held, against an estimated 1 in 400 trillion odds. I am writing this. You are reading it.
And what are we but stardust, flung outward from an explosion 13.8 billion years ago - floating now on a small island in a universe of two trillion galaxies, two hundred billion trillion stars. More than every grain of sand on earth.
In just a few hundred thousand years, our species has learned to harness fire, cross oceans, fly through the sky, cure diseases, split the atom, map the human genome, and peer billions of years into the past with telescopes powerful enough to glimpse the birth of galaxies. The more we discover, the larger the mystery becomes.
Researchers such as Dacher Keltner, who has spent decades studying awe, have found that moments of wonder do more than inspire us. They make us feel less self-focused, more connected to others, more generous, and more open to new ideas.
The questions then come pouring in. Are we alone in this creation? Who or what is responsible for any of it – a god, supreme being, chance itself?
The questions continue to challenge the greatest minds humanity has ever produced. From Einstein to Carl Sagan to Stephen Hawking, some of history's greatest minds spent their lives exploring the deepest questions of existence. Yet the more they discovered, the more mystery remained.
Then we take a step back. And we realize – that even with all the war, hatred, disease, natural disasters and so on – we live in a beautiful, astonishing world.
A world where Mozart’s music stirs the soul and Spielberg’s camera brings tears to our eyes and Da Vinci’s inventions and art move us in manners we can barely explain.
We have the people – and the animals – we love.
The beauty of this planet.
Slow walks through an old-growth forest.
Running through an open field with your dogs.
Listening to the sound of waterfalls.
Climbing the steep hills of majestic mountains.
We stand alone in a quiet church and wonder how beautiful it is that we are here at all – descended from a single-celled life from 3.5 billion years ago.
Is it God? Chance?
Something beyond our understanding? I do not know. What I do know is that you were here.
Scientists estimate about 118 billion humans have lived on planet Earth throughout time. 118 billion memories, thoughts, pains, fears, joys.
Lives lived through wars, disease, and famine.
Lives lived with faith, hope and love.
Lives worshiping a God or gods or nature that may or may not be responsible for it all.
And we pivot once more.
The smell of a newborn baby, freshly cut grass and newly picked flowers.
Coffee brewing at sunrise. A dog waiting at the door.
The beauty of a forest, the vastness of a desert and majesty of a mountain.
The sound of water trickling down a stream or waves crashing into the shoreline.
The excitement of attending a sporting event or concert.
The exhilaration of watching your children grow into adulthood.
The delight and sadness of watching your parents grow old.
The heartbreak of someone struggling.
The sadness of a loved one’s death.
These are the moments that remind us why being alive matters: to experience this wondrous gift given to each of us. These are the moments when words fail us and spirit of what is life engulfs us and shakes us to wake up and realize just how fortunate we are to be alive!
So here we are. Two names out of a hundred and eighteen billion, briefly awake at the same improbable moment, on the same small blue speck, for no reason the universe was required to give us. The chain held. The cell won its race. The fern opened again, the way it always does, as if it never doubted the rain would come.
None of it had to happen. That's the whole of the wonder - not that we understand why we're here, but that we're here at all to wonder about it. Somewhere behind us, an unbroken line of nights and letters and trains that arrived on time made room for this one. Somewhere ahead of us, the chain will pass through our hands to someone else, or it won't.
Either way - for now, against every reasonable expectation, it is still unfolding. And so are we.
Still searching…
David B. Gourgues is the author of Resurrection Fern: Trying to Understand It All. He writes personal essays exploring grief, resilience, relationships, faith and doubt, aging, and the search for meaning. His current project is Still Searching: Essays on Finding Meaning in an Age of Uncertainty. He lives in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, with his wife and two stubborn dachshunds, and is the father of two adult children.
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