How awe silences your ego | The Gray Area

Dacher Keltner, a professor at Berkeley, discusses the science of awe, distinguishing it from other emotions and exploring its profound impact on human experience. He defines awe as an emotion felt when encountering vast and mysterious things, differentiating it from wonder (an epistemological state that follows awe), beauty, and horror. Keltner emphasizes that awe is not merely an intense version of other emotions but a distinct state with unique physiological and neurological signatures. Scientifically, awe differs significantly from fear. While fear elevates heart rate and activates the amygdala, awe increases vagal tone, slowing the body and promoting openness and connection. Awe activates brain regions related to reward, unlike fear. Keltner notes that the vocalization of awe, often an exclamation like "Whoa," is acoustically distinct from fear sounds. He posits that awe is a fundamental state of mind, much like Einstein believed, inherent to how we perceive and engage with the world. Keltner agrees that awe often renders one speechless, highlighting its ability to transcend language. He suggests that moments of awe expose the limits of our knowledge, leading to a state of deep humility where the rational mind struggles to comprehend the vastness or beauty encountered. This humility then often gives rise to wonder, a quest for meaning and understanding. The discussion touches on various sources of awe. Observing human excellence, such as Alex Honnold's free solo climb, can evoke awe. Keltner distinguishes between physical excellence (e.g., a chef dicing vegetables, Steph Curry's basketball shots) and moral beauty, which combines physical prowess with virtues like courage, kindness, or humility. David Hume, the Scottish philosopher, suggested that witnessing extreme human potential can inspire us to imagine ourselves possessing similar qualities, fostering aspiration. The interviewer notes feeling a "vague pride" watching Honnold's climb, a sense of collective achievement, which Keltner explains as the surfacing of our collective self – an evolutionary trait where we identify with the strength and capabilities of our species. A central argument in Keltner's book is that awe "quiets the self." He explains that our "self" or ego is often focused on individual needs like safety, status, and achievement. While this self-focus has evolutionary advantages, modern society, particularly with the rise of technology and social media, has become excessively individualistic and self-focused, leading to anxiety, self-criticism, and loneliness. Awe provides an antidote by deactivating the brain's default mode network (associated with self-related thought), making us aware of our surroundings, and fostering a sense of being part of something larger. This "small self" experience is empirically supported; for instance, people asked to draw themselves after experiencing awe in vast natural settings tend to draw themselves as small in a larger context. Keltner stresses that the self-focus of modern life is harmful. Excessive rumination about oneself contributes to anxiety, detachment, and loneliness. Awe offers a way out, allowing us to "lose ourselves" in activities like dancing, listening to music, or immersing ourselves in nature, which can be uplifting and strengthening. Contrary to the common perception of awe as a solitary spiritual experience, Keltner's research across 26 countries reveals its profoundly social nature. While nature is a significant source of awe, social experiences—witnessing others' courage, virtue, strength, or intelligence, and engaging in shared movement like sports or dance—are even more reliable sources. This indicates that awe makes us wonder about other people and our vital connections to them. While many sources of awe are universal across cultures, Keltner notes some significant variations. Cultures with high economic inequality tend to experience more "threat-based" or fearful awe, often related to hierarchical religious concepts of being judged by God. In such contexts, awe can blend with fear, terror, or horror, demonstrating the complex, intermingled nature of emotions. The interviewer suggests that while awe feels like it transports us out of the regular world, Keltner's work implies it actually reconnects us to the human world and other selves. Keltner agrees, citing Jane Goodall's observation of awe in chimpanzees as being "amazed at things outside of the self." He explains that everyday awe, like noticing patterns of light on a tree, connects our sense of self to nature and the world around us. This "diminishing of the self" or "small self" is a key psychological and spiritual benefit, allowing for greater curiosity about others and a sense of belonging to larger systems. For instance, a cellist experiencing awe during a performance feels part of both the audience and the history of music. Keltner shares personal anecdotes, including crying at concerts by musicians like Jose Gonzalez and Sufjan Stevens. He explains that tears, physiologically linked to the parasympathetic nervous system and the vagus nerve, are associated with calming, openness, connection, and a merging with others—all elements of awe. This highlights how awe often manifests in the body first, before being imperfectly translated into language. He criticizes Western philosophy for often neglecting the body in favor of language and thought, a trend that science is now correcting by showing how bodily information drives our perceptions and emotions. The conversation delves into the power of moral beauty—why others' kindness and strength are so moving. Keltner links this to our evolutionary history, emphasizing cooperation, shared resources, and caring for hyper-vulnerable offspring within communities. Moral beauty, such as witnessing a stranger's kind act, instinctively promotes kindness and cooperation in observers, fostering "networks of cooperation." It also serves as a powerful tool for learning and embodying cooperative principles, especially for young people. Stories, fables, and legends across cultures often feature moral beauty as a core ingredient, inspiring us to "get along so that we can survive." Keltner recounts examples of moral courage, from Iranian women protesting to historical figures like Nelson Mandela and Thomas Clarkson, who fought against slavery. He notes how such acts of self-sacrifice for others or an idea have profoundly changed the world. He mentions Malala Yousafzai as a contemporary example that inspires awe globally, suggesting that moral courage is desperately needed in current political times. Keltner shares his experiences at San Quentin prison, where he worked on an amicus brief against solitary confinement. He was deeply moved by the prisoners' hunger for moral beauty, their efforts to make amends, and their creation of art, music, and community. Despite their circumstances, they found awe in simple things like a granddaughter learning to read, a high school diploma, or the light from the bay, reinforcing that awe is a universal human experience, not a luxury. This experience further solidified his belief that awe is fundamentally relational, connecting individuals to their children, fellow inmates, music, scripture, or the process of moral repair through restorative justice. Keltner discusses how his relationship with awe and mystery evolved after his brother, Ralph, passed away from colon cancer. Despite being a data-driven skeptic, he experienced a "transcendent experience" at his brother's bedside, perceiving his soul and sensing space differently. This profound experience, coupled with subsequent feelings of his brother's presence, opened him up to metaphysics, spirituality, and what science cannot fully explain. He suggests that the experience of awe is likely the birth of the religious impulse, leading to a sense of collective effervescence and a connection to something larger, as seen in various spiritual texts and traditions. For those seeking to incorporate awe into their daily lives, Keltner advises pausing, slowing down, putting away devices, and opening one's mind. He suggests focusing on "eight wonders": nature (sunsets, clouds, trees), music that holds personal meaning, reflecting on inspiring individuals, and engaging with visual art in museums. He stresses that just a few minutes a week can reduce stress, anxiety, and loneliness, improving overall well-being.