Growing up in a suburban home, the world seems so massive to you.

Hear now the gentle and thoughtful words of Shawn Mendes, a young sage of the modern age: “Growing up in a suburban home, the world seems so massive to you. It seems like cities are so big and so far away, and there’s so much in them. So your imagination runs wild, instead of when you are born in the middle of Manhattan, you’d know, like, that this is the biggest city.” Beneath these simple words lies a timeless reflection on wonder, perspective, and the boundless nature of the imagination. It is a meditation on how the limits of our surroundings shape the infinite landscapes of our minds. For when one grows up gazing toward the horizon—never quite reaching it—one learns to fill the distance with dreams.

The origin of this saying is found in Mendes’s own youth, a childhood shaped by quiet neighborhoods and the distant glow of possibility. Born not into the heart of a metropolis, but on its outskirts, he grew up with the world just out of reach—close enough to imagine, yet far enough to remain mysterious. To him, the city was a symbol of everything vast, unknown, and full of promise. His words remind us that there is a rare gift in such beginnings: when the world feels larger than life, the soul learns to dream larger than itself.

In the ancient world, philosophers and poets often spoke of the power of distance—how limitation breeds longing, and longing awakens creativity. The shepherd boy who gazes upon the stars imagines kingdoms in the sky; the villager at the edge of the empire dreams of lands he has never seen. So it was with Shawn Mendes: his imagination was born not from abundance, but from absence, from the sense that something greater lay beyond his reach. It is this yearning, this sacred curiosity, that has ever driven humanity to grow, to create, to seek the unknown.

Consider the story of Leonardo da Vinci, born not in the grand city of Florence, but in the humble village of Vinci. He grew up surrounded by fields, rivers, and the flight of birds—far from the marble halls of scholars and kings. Yet it was this distance that became his teacher. He studied the patterns of nature, the motion of water, the anatomy of animals, and from these small beginnings came visions vast enough to redefine art and science alike. Like Mendes’s suburban home, Leonardo’s village seemed small, yet it opened the door to a limitless universe of imagination.

Mendes’s words also speak of perspective—the way environment shapes perception. To be born in Manhattan, he says, is to grow up knowing the boundaries of greatness, to see the “biggest city” and call it ordinary. But to grow up outside of it, to dream of what lies beyond, is to see the world through the eyes of wonder. This is the paradox of familiarity: when all is given, the hunger for discovery fades. When the world is distant, we strive to reach it. Thus, the suburbs, though quiet and seemingly uneventful, become the forge of dreamers, the birthplace of those who must imagine their way toward destiny.

The wisdom here is profound. Imagination, Mendes reminds us, is born from not knowing. The child who feels that the world is vast becomes the adult who dares to explore it. The one who sees limits only within arm’s reach learns to reach further still. It is not the abundance of experience that feeds creativity, but the emptiness between desire and reality—that mysterious space where hope is born. The ancients called this the “divine hunger,” the restless spirit that drives both artist and adventurer alike.

So, children of the future, take this teaching into your hearts: do not despise small beginnings. Whether your world is a small town, a quiet neighborhood, or a single room, let your imagination stretch beyond its walls. Look to the horizon and fill it with dreams of your own making. The vastness you see is not a barrier but a promise—that there is always more to discover, both in the world and within yourself.

For those who grow up surrounded by limits often become the ones who surpass them. And as Mendes’s words reveal, the world will always seem most beautiful to those who have not yet reached its end. To live with wonder is to live with possibility. Guard that wonder well, for it is the birthplace of all creation—and the quiet power that turns ordinary lives into extraordinary journeys.