Wonder: The Midlife Antidote to Overwhelm

“When was the last time you did something for the first time?”

This question has sat by my desk for years. It was a reminder to keep life exciting, to say yes to new things, to stay curious, to avoid getting stuck. 

And it served me well for a long time.

But lately, I’ve been asking myself a different question.

What if the real problem isn’t that we don’t do enough new things?
What if the problem is that we’ve forgotten how to see the old things as new?

Because the reality is, by midlife, most of our days blur into repetition.

Wake up. School run. Work. Emails. Groceries. Dinner. Laundry. Bed. Repeat.

The details shift, maybe it’s a different meal, or a new project at work but the rhythm is the same. And if you’ve ever wondered why time feels like it’s speeding up, here’s part of the answer:

Research shows that around 40 to 50 percent of our daily actions are habitual, not conscious choices. We repeat the same cues, routines, and reactions day after day.

And while the percentage varies across studies, psychologists agree that true novelty - doing or experiencing something entirely new becomes increasingly rare after our twenties unless we intentionally seek it. By midlife, we’ve settled into efficient routines that make life run smoothly, but also make time feel like it’s slipping through our fingers.

That’s why childhood feels endless and adulthood feels like it’s rushing by.

Kids live in novelty. Adults live in repetition.

The Novelty Trap for Adults

Our brains are wired to seek “new.” Every time you experience novelty, dopamine gets released, not from the outcome, but from the search. That’s how our ancestors survived. Novelty meant food, tools, progress, life.

Dopamine is our motivation chemical. It fuels anticipation, not satisfaction.

The thrill wasn’t in finding the food or the shelter; it was in looking for it. Once the reward arrived, dopamine dropped, and the brain began scanning again for the next thing that promised progress or safety.

But today the same wiring is constantly hijacked.

Social media feeds. Netflix autoplay. Online shopping. The revolving door of diets and wellness hacks. All of it dangles the promise of fresh. But because the stream never ends, your brain never gets the “satisfied” signal. That’s why you can lose 45 minutes (or an entire evening) without even realising it.

Thirty years ago, novelty had natural limits. The TV show ended. The shop closed. The magazine ran out of pages. Novelty had a finish line.

Now? Novelty is an IV drip in your pocket. Constant, empty hits of “new” that leave you distracted but rarely nourished.

What once fuelled purposeful seeking; now fuels endless searching.

And if half your life is repetitive habits, and the other half is siphoned off into empty novelty, it’s no wonder midlife feels like Groundhog Day.

So what’s the antidote?

The Beginner’s Mind

Maybe the better question is this:

When was the last time you did the same thing… as if it were the first time?

That’s the Beginner’s Mind.

Children do this naturally. They stare at the sky and ask why it’s blue. They pull apart toys to see how they work. They don’t care about efficiency; they care about discovery.

But somewhere along the way, we traded wonder for certainty. Curiosity for productivity. We decided it was better to be quick than to be present, better to know than to ask. And in the process, we lost that wide-eyed awe that makes even ordinary life feel magical.

The beginner’s mind is about taking it back.

It’s choosing to meet the familiar with fresh eyes. To let wonder slip into the cracks of your routines. To replace judgment with curiosity.

And when you do, here’s what happens:

• You reclaim presence. Instead of rushing, you notice. Instead of numbing, you feel.

• You reawaken curiosity. You stop blindly following and start asking why again.

• You rediscover wonder. Even the smallest things......the sound of your breath, the taste of your food, the way the light falls on the floor become extraordinary.

Why wonder and curiosity matter

It’s easy to dismiss this as “nice but not urgent.” But here’s why wonder and curiosity are medicine for midlife:

1. Curiosity keeps your brain young.
Every time you ask why, dopamine gets released. When it’s channelled into curiosity instead of distraction, it becomes a force for learning and growth. Think of curiosity as yoga for your mind — stretching your perspective and keeping your mental muscles supple.

2. Wonder slows down time.
Remember how long a day felt when you were a kid? That’s because everything was new. Awe literally takes you out of autopilot, quiets the brain chatter, and expands your sense of time. If life feels like it’s rushing by, wonder is your antidote.

3. Curiosity regulates stress.
You can’t be curious and defensive at the same time. Shifting from “this shouldn’t be happening” to “why is this happening?” calms the nervous system. Your breath deepens, your muscles soften. It’s one of the most underrated tools for anxiety.

4. Wonder reconnects you to meaning.
When you feel awe at your body, your breath, or the sky above, your sense of self-importance drops, but your sense of belonging expands. It’s perspective, humility, and connection rolled into one.

5. Curiosity deepens relationships.
People who stay curious ask better questions, listen more, and assume less. Imagine how family life might shift if, instead of “I already know what you’ll say,” we asked, “Tell me more about that.” Curiosity keeps conversations alive, even with partners, teens, or colleagues we think we know inside out.

Bringing it home

Wonder and curiosity aren’t luxuries. They’re lifelines.

So here’s my invitation:
Don’t wait for a holiday or a big life event to feel wonder. Bring it into the school run. Into the dishes. Into the way your chest rises when you breathe. Start asking “why” again, not because you need an answer, but because the act of wondering itself will change you.

And here are a few of the questions we’ve been exploring in my yoga classes this month. You might like to try them too:

• What happens if I approach this pose as if it’s the first time?

• Where does strength really come from - my muscles, my breath, or my belief?

• What does it feel like to stretch not for the shape, but for the sensation?

• Can I soften and let wonder slip into the most ordinary movements?

And here’s how that translates off the mat:

• Cooking dinner: Instead of just “getting food on the table,” notice the transformation. The way raw ingredients become something nourishing. Ask yourself, what would it feel like to treat this as medicine instead of a chore?

• Folding laundry: Instead of racing through, bring curiosity: whose shirt am I holding? What season of life is this child in now? You’ll see growth, time passing, and connection stitched into the fabric.

• The school run or commute: Use curiosity to map your inner weather. How does my breath change when I’m impatient? What happens if I soften my grip on the wheel, unclench my jaw? The drive becomes less about traffic, more about nervous system training.

• Conversations: Try swapping certainty for curiosity. Instead of assuming you know how your partner will answer, ask “What did you mean by that?” or “Tell me more.” Curiosity changes the tone, and often the outcome, of connection.

• Parenting: When your child rolls their eyes or shuts the door, instead of asking “what’s wrong with them?”, ask “what’s changing for them?”.
  Curiosity helps you see their reaction as a growing pain, not a rejection. It turns tension into understanding.
• Yourself: When you catch yourself snapping, withdrawing, or rushing through the day, ask: ‘What’s underneath this?’ Not to fix it, but to listen.
  Curiosity softens the edges of self-judgment. It reminds you that awareness, not perfection, is what keeps you growing.

These aren’t hacks. They’re shifts in perspective. They make the repetitive meaningful, the ordinary extraordinary.

That’s the beginner’s mind. And it might just be the antidote to the overwhelm of midlife.

That photo under the stars? Taken on a recent camping trip to Warrumbungles National Park where it was easy to feel awe. No emails, no devices, no dinner dishes staring me down. Just space to switch off and be present.

But the thing is, I don’t want awe to only belong to the times I “escape.” I want to find it on a Wednesday afternoon while folding laundry or cooking dinner. Because midlife doesn’t need more escapes. It needs more wonder in the lives we’re already living. That way, the holidays we do take aren’t tinged with the blues of ending, but with the presence of truly being there.

If this resonates, you’ll love what we’re exploring together on the mat and in my writing. Each month, I share fresh practices and reflections that go beyond the noise of fads and quick fixes: helping women in midlife reconnect to curiosity, rhythm, and meaning.

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