Awe: A life-giving Purposeful Pause

A rare "planetary parade" occurred this past weekend. Six planets – Mercury, Venus, Saturn, Jupiter, Uranus, and Neptune – formed a gentle arc in the night’s sky.  We may not see that again for a decade. 

And, I almost missed it.

Saturday night, our annual ALS Polar Plunge fundraiser was still raging in the backyard –albeit, by then, it was a mostly ‘under-50’ crowd. Thor was due for his final walk of the night, and that felt like an opportune moment for me to ‘dip,’ as the kids say. 

I called out for him inside the house. No sooner did he appear at my feet, tail wagging and anxious for attention. I fastened his harness, and we headed out. 

Just beyond the driveway, we ran into my son's best friend Nate who was, himself, sneaking in a moment of peace away from the revelry and thrumming base line. 

I invited him to join us. 

About halfway down the block, I remembered the headlines: rare celestial event tonight! Though we were deep in conversation, I interrupted and said  ‘Oh my gosh! Look up!’ 

The sky was crystal clear. Nothing obstructing our view.

The planets and stars, bright against the dark of night, danced and sparkled. 

I’m no astronomer but was able to point out a few constellations. Nate was duly impressed.

As we stood in reverential silence, humbled by the enormity of the cosmos,

everything that felt urgent and important melted away.

It was, in a word, awesome.

As we continued on our walk, Nate and I processed what we’d just witnessed. It reminded me of those deep, late-night college dorm room conversations. You know the ones… “So, wait. You’re telling me that the light we just saw in those stars is from, like, millions of years ago? Like before Earth was Earth?”

After a beat, Nate said, ‘You know, I never remember to look up at the sky like that.’ 

Understandable. It’s easy to forget.

Most of us are looking down at our phones these days. Or, we’re in our heads. Stuck in our thoughts, replaying conversations, worrying about what needs to get done, what didn’t get done and whose fault it is. We’re so consumed by an onslaught of mental clutter that we often miss out on the magic of what’s right in front of us, around us or, in this case, above us.

A few days later, I was watching a talk online by a leading expert on elder justice. She’d written a book about navigating the challenges associated with aging. The session wrapped with five elements she believes can anchor us in purpose and meaning later in life. 

The one that really caught my attention? Awe.

Yes, awe. 

A sense of wonder. A realization that we’ve witnessed something magical and mind-blowing and makes us rethink our very existence. 

According to a leading scholar in the science of emotion, professor Dr. Dacher Keltner, awe is what we experience when we encounter vast mysteries that we don’t understand.

Think the Grand Canyon, witnessing the birth of a child, a symphony that moves you to tears. 

Awe requires us to expand how we make sense of our world. And, as I’m learning, awe can be genuinely life-giving. 

From boosting your immunity to reducing stress and inflammation, awe seems like a panacea for what ails us. 

And while the triggers are external, the transformation is internal. 

Awe shifts our attention away from ourselves, forcing us out of our inner world. It quiets the ego by reducing activity in the part of our brain responsible for self-focused thinking. It quite literally powers down the self-criticism and overthinking loop. 

In moments of awe, you stop being the center of your own story and start feeling more present and connected.

Imagine a full moon on a clear night. It stops you in your tracks. It compels you to pay attention. It commands you to be here and to embrace the moment. To witness its grandeur and to realize that millions around the world are looking up at that very same moon with the same level of wonder and delight. 

For those of us used to being the ones who hold everything together, awe offers something radical: a neurological permission slip to put down the weight of your own story, even briefly. 

And the doorway into all of this doesn’t have to be dramatic. Awe is accessible. No Eat, Pray, Love sabbatical or guided psilocybin trip required. 

What is required to experience the benefits of awe? 

Slowing down.

Paying attention. 

Staying open. 

A willingness to be surprised and delighted.

Awe isn't reserved for mountaintops and milestones. It's waiting in the extraordinary ordinary – in the moments you stop rushing past your own life. 

Standing under that planetary parade, something else came back to me. Growing up, my mom would pull me away from whatever I was doing – homework, TV, whatever felt urgent at the time – and say 'come look at this.'  A ‘cotton candy sky’ after a rainstorm. The ombre horizon at sunset. She never called it awe. She just knew. I did the same with my kids. And today, my daughter's photo feed is filled with pictures of arresting skies.

I didn't fully understand the gift in those moments then.

I do now.

This week, I'm inviting you to notice…to experience one intentional moment of awe. Then hit reply and tell me what it was. I read every response and have a feeling your answers are going to be awesome 😉