Finding awe

(Originally posted on LinkedIn)

Lately, I've been thinking a lot about AWE.

According to Dacher Keltner, a renowned expert in the science of human emotion, awe is "the emotion we experience when we encounter vast mysteries we don't understand."

In his new book called AWE: The New Science Of Everyday Wonder and How It Can Transform Your Life, Keltner explains what his research (and that of many collaborators) reveals about the sources of awe that occur in our everyday lives.

It explains how moments of awe - like noticing beauty in nature or witnessing a kind act of another person - can actually shift us out of an ego-driven, individually-focused state of mind.

These moments allow us to transcend the everyday struggles and frustrations we face and feel connected to something larger and to a sense of possibility for our communities and our world.

So what does this have to do with the photo included with this post? I'm glad you asked.

One of the eight sources of awe that Keltner described is moral beauty.

Moral beauty is when we witness other people's kindness, courage and ability to overcome.

Reading about it inspired me to share a personal story of awe, namely the experience of witnessing my grandmother's incredible perseverance during her battle with dementia.

My grandmother inspired me for so so many reasons, but this story is about a moment that will stay with me for many years to come.

As my grandmother's disease worsened, she sensed she had limited time to share some important things.

One day, while I was visiting her at the home she'd shared with my grandfather for over 40 years, she sat me down rather insistently and said she had something to give me.

She shuffled back down the hall and into her bedroom, returning with a small jewelry box, which she handed to me.

Inside were her mother - my namesake- 's wedding rings. Along with a handwritten note that she'd painstakingly written out and torn to fit the box and a photo of me from the 7th grade.

She looked up at me with a smile and asked "What do you think? Maybe Peter could use these?" Hint, hint.

What struck me was not just the gesture or the sentimental value of this gift - and believe me, I'm very sentimental.

What really hit me and continues to wash over me years later is the determination it took for her to present this gift, despite her rapidly fading short-term memory.

It was so clear that she had thought about this and wanted to make absolutely sure she was able to do it before the disease took any more from her.

My grandmother was not a quiet woman, per se, but she was always very conscious not to ask "too much" of people or put her own needs ahead of anyone else.

For her to insist that we have this moment was a sign of her stretching far beyond the ways of being she'd built over a lifetime, to really assert that this was important to her.

This moment also felt like an unspoken invitation from one "good girl" to another, to speak up in my own life, too.