The Practice of Awe
By: Tory Motsos
This summer, I found myself standing at the feet of a giant. It was the end of a long day of near-constant walking in the July heat, and to be honest, I was very ready for a shower and a pillow. Instead, I ultimately found myself awe-inspired and tearful among dozens and dozens of strangers.
Was I embarrassed to find myself weeping among a large crowd? Not at all. My fellow tourists hardly noticed me. In fact, I am gravely concerned that they barely registered the man we all presumably were there to see: Abraham Lincoln.
On the one hand, he is impossible to miss. His seated figure towers 19 feet tall, sculpted out of an astonishing 175 tons of marble. On the other hand, you cannot perceive him in full if you only view him through the camera on your phone.
That evening, the interior of the Lincoln Memorial was crowded and bustling, and I did my best to navigate around everyone’s attempts to capture photos. I am confident I now live in camera rolls across the world, an accidental blur in several people’s vacation albums.
I was brought to tears by the majesty of the Lincoln Memorial despite the unsettling tension I felt as I tried to meditate on our nation’s history while surrounded by distracting, device-driven activity that seemed more suitable for Times Square. As I recall this moment, I am struck by a depressing realization. In taking a selfie with the monument in the background, your camera even allows you to experience your own face as the biggest thing in the room.
When beautiful things are reduced to checklists on our tourist agendas and backgrounds to candid shots we may never look at again, we lose more than an appreciation of the things themselves. When we diminish life’s most meaningful experiences to a pocket-sized collection of pixels to be stored in a cloud, we lose our very presence.
Technology, along with our modern expectations of convenience, encourages us to outsource the experience of our lives, in ways big and small. If we succumb to the temptation, we cannot fully live. The simple practice of finding awe in our daily lives can aid in restoring a rich life of wonder, and a change of season provides ample opportunity for daily awe-finding.
In his book Awe: The New Science of Everyday Wonder and How It Can Transform Your Life, psychologist Dacher Keltner defines awe as “the feeling of being in the presence of something vast that transcends your current understanding of the world.” Perhaps a specific memory comes to mind for you of an encounter in a beautiful outdoor setting, a concert hall, or a church.
Keltner’s research suggests a set of factors that may be present when an individual experiences awe. He refers to them as the “eight wonders of life,” which include nature, music, and spirituality.
Significantly, his studies show that human beings from across the globe share a capacity to feel awe when moved by moral beauty. In fact, across cultures, this is the most common factor that leads individuals to experience awe. The courage and kindness of other people is literally awe-inspiring. So, it is no wonder that the Lincoln Memorial will bring a person to tears.
As we move through autumn and toward the holiday season, opportunities for awe-finding are everywhere. Leave your phone in your pocket, and take a walk, actively seeking awe. Notice nature’s details as they beautifully transform, and take the time to appreciate them anew. In the season of Thanksgiving, allow gratitude to partner with awe in your experience of the holiday. As Christmas approaches, receive the gift of Jesus’ birth in the spirit of awe.
And if the season happens to bring you to the National Mall, I hope you find yourself at the feet of President Lincoln.
Be sure to look up.
Tory Matsos ‘02
A graduate of Hillsdale College and The Ohio State University, I am a professional theatre artist and educator. After many years performing on stages both in the US and internationally, I now serve as Instructor in Theatre at Hillsdale College. I stay busy teaching and making theatre, but my favorite moments are spent at home with my husband, son, and cocker spaniel.
