Astronomy has enlarged the sphere of our conceptions, and opened to us a universe without bounds, where the human imagination is lost. Surrounded by infinite space, and swallowed up in an immensity of being, man seems but as a drop of water in the ocean, mixed and confounded with the general mass. But from this situation, perplexing as it is, he endeavors to extricate himself; and by looking abroad into Nature, employs the powers she has bestowed upon him in investigating her works
Like so many stories of awe, Bonnycastle’s about the vast mysteries of space reveals the emotion’s unfolding pattern. It begins with vastness—“universe without bounds”—and mystery—“human imagination is lost.” What follows is the vanishing of the self—“drop of water”—and the sense of being related to something larger—“immensity of being.” And as the default self fades, the mind opens to intellectual questioning and searching that awe inspires (“investigating her works”). Or wonder.
—
Wonder, the mental state of openness, questioning, curiosity, and embracing mystery, arises out of experiences of awe. In our studies, people who find more everyday awe show evidence of living with wonder. They are more open to new ideas. To what is unknown. To what language can’t describe. To the absurd. To seeking new knowledge. To experience itself, for example of sound, or color, or bodily sensation, or the directions thought might take during dreams or meditation. To the strengths and virtues of other people. It should not surprise that people who feel even five minutes a day of everyday awe are more curious about art, music, poetry, new scientific discoveries, philosophy, and questions about life and death. They feel more comfortable with mysteries, with that which cannot be explained.
A stereotype of awe is that it leaves us dumbfounded and dazed, ready to subordinate reason to dogma, disinformation, blind faith, a local guru or trendy influencer. The scientific evidence suggests otherwise. In the state of wonder that awe produces, our thought is more rigorous and energized. As one historical example, Isaac Newton and René Descartes were both awestruck by rainbows. In wonder, they asked: How is it that rainbows form when the sun’s light refracts through water molecules? What is the precise angle that produces this effect? What does this say about light and our experience of color? This wonder over rainbows led these two scholars to some of their best work on mathematics, the physics of light, color theory, and sensation and perception.
Laboratory studies have captured how awe leads to more rigorous thought. In one such study, after being led to experience awe by recalling a time of looking out at an expansive view, college students were more discerning between what is a strong argument, grounded in robust scientific evidence, and a weak argument, based on a single individual’s opinions.
With our thinking energized by awe, we place vast mysteries within more complex systems of understanding. We perceive natural phenomena like tide pools, pollinating bees, or ecosystems gathering around a “mother tree” as the result of intricate interacting
Saintly Tendencies
In moments of awe, then, we shift from the sense that we are solely in charge of our own fate and striving against others to feeling we are part of a community, sharing essential qualities, interdependent and collaborating. Awe expands what philosopher Peter Singer calls the circle of care, the network of people we feel kindness toward. William James called the actions that give rise to the circle of care the “saintly tendencies” of mystical awe—to sacrifice, share, put aside self-interest in favor of the interests of others. Our studies find that these “saintly tendencies” arise in encounters with all eight wonders of life.
In one study on this theme, longtime collaborator and professor at UC Irvine Paul Piff and I led one group of participants to feel awe by watching BBC’s