to be awed
"We're walking temples of noise, and when you add tender hearts to this mix, it somehow lets us meet in places we couldn't get to any other way." Anne Lamott
The older I get, the softer I become.
The softer I become, the more I feel.
The more I feel, the more I cry.
And I cry.
I have this tender, mushy core that often surprises me.
It’s enlivening.
Monday was a good day. I washed my hair. I worked from home. I ate two chocolate chip cookies with icing sandwiched between them. And when my afternoon meetings were canceled with the directive "Take some time, enjoy the eclipse," I slammed the laptop shut!
Though lacking the proper eyewear, I figured the least I could do was step outside and bear witness…sort of. So, I leashed up Delilah and we began our pilgrimage to the neighborhood park.
We passed the school where little ones and pre-teens blanketed the parking lot, buzzing with infectious excitement. I couldn't help but smile.
We strolled by an open field where mothers with babies, couples entwined, and solitary souls all sat in hushed, communal anticipation. Another smile crept across my face.
And as I guided Delilah toward our final destination — an empty bench encircled by vibrant tulips — something welled up inside me and I started to cry. At first, shame popped up — "Why are you crying? It's just an eclipse..."
But as the seconds drifted by and bird songs crescendoed while wispy clouds danced across the sky, I realized this moment was profound, sacred. To be in the quiet company of strangers witnessing one of the cosmos' grandest performances is the very essence of awe — that overpowering, transcendent force that stirs us to tears of joy, of deeply felt belonging to the mysteries of life itself.
The immensity of that experience — all the celestial mechanics and motions that grooved together to create that moment — opened a wellspring within me. I was not just a spectator, but a participant in a dance as ancient as the first light.
Through the eclipse, I was reminded that amid our lofty pursuits and mortal tethers, we are all equally cradled within a vastness that staggers comprehension.
And for those few moments, my earthly worries dissolved.
I was suffused with reverence.
I was in awe.
This world is filled with blistering anguish — a place where suffering and loss are etched into bones, hoping to linger for generations. Where pain's cruel talons mercilessly rake the flesh of humanity. And amid ceaseless rounds of violence, injustice, and oppression, our shared spirit lies bruised and disheveled. Too often it feels as if darkness has utterly smothered hope's embers.
But the universe is indifferent, it plows on as it must. And when the moon's veil shrouded the sun, I was reminded simultaneously of my smallness and oneness.
It stirred up something primal.
Beholding such majesty is to be uplifted and subdued in the same breath. My ego's small dominion was swallowed whole by a perspective infinitely vaster. In the presence of such splendor, my insignificant self dissipated and my truest nature burst through. I felt like a simple, electrifying mass of atoms.
This paradoxical duality of demolishment and rebirth, diminishment and enlargement, lies at the heart of awe. The walls keeping reality at arm's length crumble as our souls merge in dizzying wonderment with the powers that engender all existence. Our assumed centrality is swept from its selfish moorings, leaving us awash in connectivity.
And as moons eclipse suns and planets whirl, we are offered fleeting glimpses into the masterpiece of which we are tiny yet indivisible strands. These revolutions of matter and energy reveal the oscillating, unitive dynamism that gives birth to all beings, binds us in cosmic embrace, only to one day unbind and return us to the fundamental source.
To be exhilarated by awe is to be fused with forces at once terrifyingly vast yet intimately indwelling. And therein arises one of life's greatest revelations — that to be rendered insignificant is to be liberated into belonging to the richness manifesting everywhere, always.
In awe's embrace, we are humbled and emboldened, diminutive and integral, lost and found.
In 2017, peering through welder's goggles, I watched the moon eclipse the sun and felt nothing.
But in 2024, armed with only my senses, I felt everything.
To be mushy and tender and weepy before such spectacles is all I've ever wanted.
This is my path.
If you can’t commit to a monthly or yearly subscription but still want to give me coffee and excitement-induced energy, click below.
Absolutely gorgeous writing. Isn’t it amazing how we can perceive the world as either humdrum or a miracle, all depending on our shells and lenses.
A wonderful piece, Caroline! Without going back to check, I especially liked when you said something like I was transformed into “a bundle of swirling atoms,”— I may not have that spot on, but your intent of the way the universe can consolidate all of us, and remind us how small we are, was beautifully portrayed. So enjoyable, and so true! Thank you for this!