Awe Begets Awe

 

A few weeks ago I returned from a trip of a lifetime to the Galapagos Islands. While I was basking in the sunny beauty of life on the equator, my home city of Seattle was getting pummeled by a bizarre weather system that redered the entire city a village covered in ice. The airport and all public transportation shut down. People were stuck in their homes. As we prepared to leave Ecuador we faced the very real possibility that our plane would be severely delayed or redirected.

But we did manage to get home with minimal delays. When we arrived it was freezing cold, raining and very gray. In the winter months in Seattle the sun doesn’t rise until nearly 8am and it sets close to 4pm. The hours of daylight that we do have are often gray and overcast. Although Seattle, nicknamed The Emerald City for it’s greenery, is one of the most beautiful cities in the world surrounded by mountains and water, Seattlites love to complain about our weather. For months every year we feel desperate for sunshine and warmth.

Yesterday, New Year’s Day, I took a long walk with a friend around the park by my house. The sky and the mountains, the lake and the trees, were profoundly beautiful. I kept seeing new images — fog on the lake or a bird on a branch, and saying to my friend, “Isn’t that beautiful?!!!”

Later in the day, I did the polar bear plunge into the frigid glacial lake down the hill from my house. My partner Nancy, ever supportive but not interested in cold plunging, accompanied me and took photos. When we looked at the photos later we were both awed by how stunningly beautiful our little world is. Though we’d stood looking at the lake together in real time hundreds of times, we kept talking about it, how amazing it was. We see this very same lake every single day, yet we were rendered speechless.

When we were in the Galapagos Islands we found ourselves in a state of constant awe. On the top deck of our boat the Frigate birds flew so close that we could see the red neck of the male; we could practically touch their tail feathers.

We grew accustomed to swimming with sea turtles and sea lions. The sea lions swam so close to us that we couldn’t follow the naturalist’s rules to stay two meters away. They circled around us while we swam, brushing us as they glided by like goofy water ballerinas.

This morning, on an impulse Nancy and I headed for the mountains to cross country ski. As we drove east, away from the city, the Cascade mountains were crystal clear, snow-covered peaks sharp like birds’ beaks. We could see Mount Baker to the north and Mount Rainier to the south. We hadn’t even reached our destination; we were still on the freeway and we were both awestruck, floored by the absolute beauty everywhere around us. 

“Do you think we’re so affected by this natural beauty because we just got back from experiencing so much natural beauty?” I asked Nancy.

It felt like a muscle had been activated, like we were primed to see and feel the magic of nature. Florence Williams, author of The Nature Fix and Heartbreak, among many other publications, talks about awe as the antidote to grief, sadness and loneliness. In her quest for healing, Williams finds great solace from being in nature. She is able to recover from her heartbreak by immersing herself in the natural world.

Awe. I get it. Connecting to nature is comforting. There is a bigness in the world that I have no control over. I cannot say when the clouds will form shadows on the lake or when the sunrise will make Mount Baker bubblegum pink. It just happens when it happens. 

Sometimes I see a moment in nature and I’m too busy to stop and notice. And other times, like this week, I can feel my breath stop and my body freeze to capture the moment. The awe that opened up in me on our trip to Ecuador has stayed alive in me. 

During our time in the Galapagos I felt healed, more connected to myself , to my family, and to my senses. Food tasted better. I didn’t need as much sleep. I had boundless energy for snorkeling and hiking. I felt restored. I was less distracted by my phone and more present to the people and animals around me. 

Tomorrow I go back to work. I’ll drive along the lake to get there. There will be an opportunity during my workday to take a walk after lunch. There will be a sunrise and a sunset. There will be many moments when I can stop and notice nature's beauty; moments when I can experience awe.

I wonder how long I can ride this wave of awe. In her TED talk Florence Williams reports that the Finish government recommends a full five-hours each month in the forest for good mental health. It’s a national policy. Five hours is 300 minutes. That’s just ten minutes a day in nature. I think can manage that. I can definitely manage that but  honestly, I don’t think ten minutes of awe will be enough for me. Not anymore.