In search of awe
There’s a scene in the documentary we’re currently editing that gets me every time. In it, Bawi, a high school senior whose family fled Myanmar, is graduating. Beaming, she walks up the auditorium aisle clad in her white cap and gown as Pomp and Circumstance plays. Cut to her father, who holds back tears as he watches his daughter, and I’m done for.
The film follows Bawi over the course of her senior year, and in the process of editing, we’ve watched many hours of raw footage. We know her family’s story. We know how far they’ve come and what it’s taken them to get here. The graduation scene is both a classic rite-of-passage and a moment of extraordinary triumph. It’s the culmination of a journey filled with grief and hope, the story of an incredible young woman navigating and overcoming adversity.
While intuitively I understand why this moment is so moving, the words I’d use to describe my feelings as Bawi walks across the stage – pride? relief? joy? – don’t fully capture it. But recently something clicked as I listened to an episode of On Being featuring Berkeley neuroscientist Dacher Keltner. Keltner studies the science of awe, a word I tend to associate with looking out over the expanse of the Grand Canyon or standing before the Notre Dame Cathedral.
In fact, nature and visual art are among what Keltner calls the ‘eight wonders of life’ that induce awe. But also high on that list are stories of everyday courage, strength and kindness, stories of what he calls ‘moral beauty.’ More often than not, Keltner says, it’s the people around us that inspire awe (which is not to say they don’t also drive us crazy). Awe, I realize, is the perfect way to describe what I feel as I watch Bawi’s story unfold, what I’ve felt as I’ve witnessed countless other stories we’ve had the privilege of telling.
According to Keltner, experiences of awe are critical to our wellbeing. They not only calm our nervous systems, but also strengthen our communities. Awe makes us kinder and reminds us of what’s possible. Experiences of awe bring a sense of shared meaning and connect us to something larger than ourselves.
Steph and I are storytellers, not scientists, but we’re thrilled whenever science backs up what we’ve long believed - that stories not only captivate and entertain but also heal, build community and inspire action.
We’ll always be in search of awe in all its forms. In the words of one of my favorite poets, Ada Limon: “It’s dangerous not to have hope, but if we can’t have hope, we need a little awe, a little wonder, a little curiosity.”
-Monica