By Grace Rowan
“Live in a perpetual great astonishment.”
The other day, my son and I went outside for a walk—what I thought would be a quick stroll to stretch our legs. But to him, it was an adventure. A mission. A treasure hunt.
He stopped at every tree, every leaf, every crack in the pavement. For a full hour, he picked up leaf after leaf, turning them over in his hands, inspecting their veins, their colors, and their edges with reverence. Each one deserved to be seen. Each one was unique. He made sure of it.
Later, he found a rock—not a flashy one, just an ordinary little stone you might step over without a second glance. But to him, it was a masterpiece. He held it for three hours, rotating it slowly in his palms, tapping it with his fingernails, even licking it now and then (as kids do). He was getting to know that rock in the deepest way a child can.
And I had to stop and ask myself: When was the last time I slowed down long enough to feel awe like that?
In positive psychology, awe is a powerful, elevating emotion. It’s a kind of humble amazement that expands our perception of the world—and ourselves within it. Research shows that regularly experiencing awe can make us kinder, more connected, and even physically healthier. It shifts our focus away from ourselves and reminds us that we’re a small part of something bigger, something beautiful (Schaffer, Huckstepp, & Kannis-Dymand, 2024).
Children live in awe so naturally. They don’t rush past beauty—they stop and live in it. To them, the world is new, and everything is worth noticing. A puddle becomes a portal. A caterpillar is a miracle. A breeze through the trees is something to chase and giggle at.
As adults, we often forget that wonder is still available to us. We get caught in the rhythm of efficiency, of getting from one place to the next, of checking boxes. But awe is still waiting for us—in a cloud formation, in the pattern of tree bark, in the way light spills across the kitchen floor in the morning.
My son doesn’t need a museum to marvel. He just needs the sidewalk, and a bit of time.
So today, I’m choosing to follow his lead. I’m choosing to pick up a leaf and really look at it. I’m choosing to see the ordinary as extraordinary.
To pause. To appreciate. To let awe in.
Because maybe childlike wonder isn’t childish at all. Maybe it’s the wisest way to live.
“Wisdom begins in wonder.”
References
Schaffer, V., Huckstepp, T., & Kannis-Dymand, L. (2024). Awe: A systematic review within a cognitive behavioural framework and proposed cognitive behavioural model of awe. International Journal of Applied Positive Psychology, 9(1), 101–136. https://doi.org/10.1007/s41042-023-00116-3