Awestruck! The Emotion of Transcendence

The delightful emotion of awe offers a path toward transcendence and well-being. The thunder of Niagara Falls or the face of a newborn can provoke emotions that change us forever. Science has given new perspectives on the impact of awe for our faith and well-being. The insights of Cole Arthur Riley, Victor Frankel, David Ray Griffin, and Summer Allen add breadth to the discussion. I invite you to explore how awe can mean so much for our human journey. 

Segments include:

Awestruck and Science

Faith and awe

Be present and engaged for awe

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Chapters

• 1:53 Awestruck and Science
• 3:13 Faith and Awe
• 8:21 Be Present and Engaged for Awe

Transcript

Every second that ticks by 700,000 gallons of water gush over Niagara Falls! Jan and I stood on the observation platform a few years ago, just feet from the immense cascade. We donned the free ponchos and watched the unending flow thundering nearby, so powerful we could feel the concussion throbbing through us. Later, we rode the Maid of the Mist boat, drenched in the cool fog that rose from the deluge and enveloped us. The experience invoked awe, especially from the perspective of a resident of semi-arid West Texas!

I’m Larry Payne, the host of Tracks for the Journey, a network dedicated to your well-being. I’m sure you’ve had a few experiences that have gripped you with awe, amazement, or wonder. The emotion propels us to see the world in a different way. I invite you to explore with me why awe means so much to our human journey.

I’ll admit the feeling of Awe is rare for me, and maybe for you too. This is not good, because, as Dr. Brene Brown writes, “Awe and wonder are essential to the human experience.”[1]  What is this emotion? An explosion of research in the past 20 years has identified awe as our positive response to something that is beyond the ordinary, transcending the normal experiences of life, drawing us into a new awareness of self and the world.  When you feel awe and wonder, you are responding to what psychologists’ call “perceived vastness.” Somehow an experience breaks the boundaries of the normal and the everyday. Awe also brings a “need for accommodation.” What we experience demands a new thought, or even a paradigm shift to interpret the world in a new way.[2] The universal physical reaction is to raise our eyebrows, widen our eyes, open our mouths in exclamation, release happy chemicals across our body, and even feel tingling in our skin.

The legends of Exodus recall the awe of the Hebrews near the foot of Mt. Sinai. The amalgamated text, composed centuries later, described an experience that had been told and retold. As the people watched, the mountain shook with earthquakes and fiery storms of what might be a volcanic eruption. The former slaves cowered in fear and awe around the sacred event. The bursts of magma illuminated the skies for days, covering the land with smoke and heightening the wonder of the people. They felt they had come close to God’s living presence that overwhelmed their understanding and were ready to live with new devotion.[3]

Many of the great religious sites around the world invoke awe. From the pyramids of Egypt and the pillars of Stonehenge to the Cathedral of Notre Dame, the common factor is to carry the viewer beyond their own thoughts to something greater. Modern memorials can do the same, as anyone who has visited the monuments of Washington D.C. can remember. I was a 10 year-old when I first looked up at the Washington Monument, towering 555 feet above me, amazed at something so large I couldn’t comprehend it.

Awe is usually a serendipity encounter, snatching our attention from the common path of life. In a moment we break the boundaries of what we expected and find the rush of a new dimension. Cole Arthur Riley offers this word, “Awe is not a lens through which to see the world but our sole path to seeing. Any other lens is not a lens but a veil. And I’ve come to believe that our beholding—seeing the veils of this world peeled back again and again, if only for a moment—is no small form of salvation.”[4] The moment of awe alters our consciousness, perhaps bringing a flow state where time and self become different.

Victor Frankel, the psychiatrist who survived the Holocaust and led the world to new dimensions of meaning, wrote of his experience. “One day, a few days after the liberation, I walked through the country past flowering meadows, for miles and miles, toward the market town near the camp. Larks rose to the sky and I could hear their joyous song. There was no one to be seen for miles around; there was nothing but the wide earth and sky and the larks’ jubilation and the freedom of space. I stopped, looked around, and up to the sky—and then I went down on my knees. At that moment there was very little I knew of myself or of the world—I had but one sentence in mind—always the same: ‘‘I called to the Lord from my narrow prison and He answered me in the freedom of space.’’ How long I knelt there and repeated this sentence memory can no longer recall. But I know that on that day, in that hour, my new life started. Step for step I progressed, until again I became a human being.”[5]

Process Theology offers the teaching that every moment possesses a mental and physical reality. Our brains show electrical activity on the MRI screen but there is more to our consciousness. In each moment of experience, we are influenced by our past, our unique Self, and the possibilities of the future. In each instant there are initial aims that lure us forward toward the best, originated by the Divine source of creative possibilities.[6] We could propose that the sight of sunlight glinting on a blue mountaintop lake contains sensory perceptions, our entire bank of memories, our identity, and a connection with God. Should we respond to the divine lure, the result of this divine and human collaboration could be a paradigm-shifting, emotional jolt of awe.[7]

What should we do with our experiences of awe? Perhaps the better question is, “What does awe do with us?”

Dr. Summer Allen, in her report “The Science of Awe,” recounts the powerful effects of awe. Studies have shown we may feel a greater sense of well-being, more connection to others, diminished materialism, new perspectives on life, and deepened spirituality.[8]

If we allow it, awe can become a path to a more meaningful mindset and positive behaviors. The awe of a mother holding the newborn provokes maternal love that changes everything. The listening to the lament of an indigenous song may bring commitment to seek justice in politics. Sitting in the swelling surf of ceaseless waves beside a vast ocean can bring a paradigm shift from selfish individuality to universal oneness. Scientists Monroy and Keltner certainly have it right when they say, “awe is a pathway to mental and physical health.”[9]

Cole Arthur Riley gives us a path for this transformative emotion. “I think awe is an exercise, both a doing and a being. It is a spiritual muscle of our humanity that we can only keep from atrophying if we exercise it habitually. My faith is held together by wonder—by every defiant commitment to presence and paying attention.”[10]

“Presence and paying attention” is her formula that all of us can follow. To practice Presence is to embrace the fullness of where we are in the moment, not rushing from one encounter to another. The faster we work, the less we can be present to the singular moment that is out of the ordinary. The father who is focused on his football game is not able to be fully present to the child whose personality is being formed during each Saturday afternoon. 

Riley also encourages us to “pay attention.” To me, this means engaging in the depth of the experience. We can cultivate a deeper perception. We can engage with the flower blossoming as a product of millions of years of evolution, engorged with dynamic cellular activity, and offering itself to the care of the ecosystem. Awe comprehends this. The tender touch of a stranger holding the victim of a crime exhibits a solidarity and compassion unknown anywhere else in the universe. Awe comprehends this.

Jan and I recently visited Yellowstone Park. Like millions of others, we made a stop to watch the Old Faithful Geyser. Standing with about 1000 spectators, we waited eagerly for the eruption. Right on schedule, the geyser erupted with a monstrous roar, blowing steam and water 200 feet in air. The crowd in one great chorus let out “oohs and awes” at the amazing sight. The exclamation offered a spontaneous, delightful expression of Awe. In this moment of natural wonder, God lured us toward more profound thoughts. The rushing torrent seemed to enact the immensity of the planet and inspire reflection on the constancy of God’s love. In this moment of reflection, Awe provoked an expansion of our minds and souls.

Awe is indeed the emotion of transcendence. I hope sometime soon you are struck by awe for a greater well-being on your journey!

Thanks for joining me in this episode of Tracks for the Journey. I invite you to subscribe to the newsletter to keep up with all the resources for well-being. Go to my website, www.tracksforthejourney.com. 

[1] Brene Brown, Atlas of the Heart. Random House, 2021, p 59.
[2] Keltner, D. J., & Haidt, J. (2003). “Approaching awe, a moral, spiritual, and aesthetic emotion.” Cognition and Emotion, 17(2), 297–314.
[3] Exodus 19
[4] Cole Arthur Riley, This Here Flesh: Spirituality, Liberation, and the Stories That Make Us. Convergent, 2022
[5] Victor Frankel, Man’s Search for Meaning. Beacon Press, 1959
[6] David Ray Griffin, Reenchantment with Supernaturalism. Cornell University Press, 2021.
[7] Jay McDaniel, “Christian Process Theology: An Introduction.” www.openhorizons.org. https://www.openhorizons.org/christian-process-theology-an-introduction-by-jay-mcdaniel.html
[8] Summer Allen, “The Science of Awe.” Greater Good Science Center and the John Templeton Foundation, 2018.
[9] Maria Monroy and Dacher Keltner, “Awe as a Pathway to Mental and Physical Health.” Perspective on Psychological Health, March, 2023. https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC10018061/

[10] Riley, Ibid.