noun: awe
a feeling of reverential respect mixed with fear or wonder. (Oxford Languages)
Recently, I had a dinner table discussion with my parents about awe, sparked by an episode of the podcast Am I Doing It Wrong, titled ‘Living In Awe and Wonder’. The two hosts of the podcast had a discussion with Dacher Keltner, who has been studying awe for over twenty years. He is regarded as the founder of this field of study. He is also a professor of psychology at UC Berkeley. Keltner’s definition of awe is slightly different from Oxford Languages. To Keltner, “awe is an emotion you feel when you encounter vast mysteries.”
In general, there are 8 categories that inspire wonder:
- Moral Beauty: Other people’s kindness/courage
- Collective Movement/Effervescence: Attending live music, sports events, graduations, etc.
- Nature
- Music
- Visual Design
- Spirituality
- Big Ideas: Epiphany
- Life + Death
Everyone is different in terms of what can consistently inspire awe in them, but the most common types that are consistently able to are Moral Beauty and Nature.
Something else that makes Keltner’s studies of awe so fascinating is its effects on your body. When you experience awe, your vagus nerve is activated, you get goosebumps, you cry, you feel electricity in your back, and your inflammation is cooled. Keltner says feeling awe is, “as good for chronic pain as pharmaceuticals.” Just think, that to get all these benefits in our daily lives, all we need to do is open ourselves up to experiencing awe.
My family talked about moments in time where we had felt awe, and it really got me thinking. What are the moments in my life where I have looked at something in wonder, where I have seen something and been moved beyond my typical feelings? Why were these things I saw, or experienced, meaningful to me? It’s interesting to look back on the places you’ve been, the things you’ve done, and what they meant to you. And, once you’ve looked back on your past and come up with a few, I think it makes it easier to be searching for it every day. Once you’re looking for it, you’ll find awe in the way the sunlight comes through your window or a well plated meal.
i. March 28, 2024, San Francisco, California
My family had driven down to San Francisco for spring break, and seen and done a lot. My step count was in the 20,000s every day. One of my favorite things we did, and one of the moments that sticks out the most in my mind was our trip to Alcatraz. To make it a little more interesting (and to fit into our schedule better), we went in the evening. We had spent that day wandering around Chinatown and The Embarcadero, before we headed to Pier 33, where we would leave on the ferry.
Despite the chill descending hand in hand with the evening and the biting wind, we sat on top of the boat. I wanted to see it all, so we braved the gusts suited up in hats and gloves. As the boat delved into the bay, the city shrunk behind us, and the prison and its solitary island grew bigger. Once we were most of the way there, we circled the island a few times, getting just a little bit closer each time. Just as we were arriving, another group was lining up to leave.
We took a few minutes to look around the landing zone before we began the uphill walk to the actual prison. Once inside, we waited in line to get our headphones and audio players. With those in hand (and on head), we began the audio tour. Prison cells, visiting cubicles, maximum security holding, dining halls. There was something eerie about seeing all of these things and knowing people were really kept in them, that the concrete walls and metal bars were the last things some people saw. At one point, a worker closed the cells. The feeling that shot through me at the heavy, resounding clank as they slammed shut was something like terror, and something like awe. It was a sound that promised you would never get out. Forget that you’re on an island in the middle of the bay that’s been aptly nicknamed “The Rock,” and in its twenty-nine year long tenure only ever had three people disappear and remain unaccounted for, that harsh sound would evaporate any hope still clutched in your hands.
Every so often, the tour would pop outside, and I would catch glimpses of the sky being painted purple and blue by the night, and the city lighting up in the distance. Alcatraz was beautiful on the outside. With plants crawling up the side of the rock and so many birds, all perched on fences and buildings and flying through the sky, I could’ve wandered around taking pictures forever.
On the ferry ride back, we rode on the top again. If it had been an incredible view during the day, I couldn’t wait to see how it looked at night. Even my cheeks, pink from the cold and my windswept hair could agree it was well worth it. In front of us, the city glittered, the lights on the horizon like stars that dropped from the sky and had coalesced at the edge of the water. Behind us stood The Rock. We had made it out.
The best part of that boat trip back was seeing the lighthouse on the island do exactly what it had been designed to do. We watched it spin and spin, a steady stream of light to alert boats just like us to the presence of the mass of land it stands tall on.
In Keltner’s book Awe: The New Science of Everyday Wonder and How It Can Transform Your Life, he writes that, “Young children are in an almost constant state of awe since everything is so new to them.” I encourage you to try and be like a kid, constantly taking in new things and feeling wonder. The more that you search for awe in your every day, the more of it you’ll find, and make you a happier and kinder person, and as Keltner says, “we might as well build as much joy, real joy for all people while we’re here.”
Wait in awe for part II.
