Awe
“There I was, traversing the great skies in a giant metal bird, its shell frosted from the frigid winds outside.” Whenever I used to fly, I’d take a notebook, thinking that I’d end up writing the next great American novel. Instead, I would write several pages about how awesome it was to be flying in the first place. My legs barely fit between the seats, but I could watch terrible superhero movies while moving at thousands of miles per hour. Though I’m often quick to dismiss the interestingness of many things in my life, I’ve always been awestruck by flying. And because of that, I never really minded the annoying parts of flying. I’ve always been cool with a long TSA line, or the fact that Zone 1 never seemed to be the first zone to board, or the earthshaking cries of loud babies. The awe covered it all in a rosier, more tolerable light.
No one’s really been flying much these days. No one’s really been doing anything, which has created a dearth of awe. The monotony of waking up every day in the same place, to do more or less the same things with the same people makes it hard to find much novelty in anything at all. When the news every day just seems to get worse and worse, it starts to feel normal. After months of no sports, every single league has crammed their games into the last few weeks. Everyone is having their final games at the same time, a tiring torrent of tournaments. The first NBA bubble game was exciting and new. The 170th felt trite.
If nothing else, people are great at adapting to their environments. When we repeatedly receive the same stimuli our brains seamlessly adapt, integrating the new stimuli into the way we perceive the world. After enough of anything, we cease to find anything of interest in it. And although we can’t magically change the world with a snap of the fingers, we can alter the stimuli we receive or how we consume it.
Now, I’m in search of moments of awe. Of things that will make my jaw drop, my head spin, my brain tingle. Of things that exist even though there’s a pandemic going on and things that will continue to exist even when the pandemic is over. Of things that will grant a new light to my familiar surroundings.
For me, that means just throwing a wrench into my routines, especially in how I consume the world. Less time on sports (delete that sports newsletter I wrote a few weeks ago), more time on art and film. Less time reading news, more time reading books. Less time doing things, more time lazing around, looking closely at things would always fade into the background.
I want to be my kid self again, who would sometimes spend 20 minutes inspecting the texture of different bits of carpet, for no reason at all. I would roll around on the ground, finding newness and rosiness to the only home I knew. I want to believe that awe is a skill, a concoction of attention and open-mindedness and time that can be applied to anything to bring a new light to the world.
The fight against systemic racism continues. With each day, we move closer to a more equitable world. Reminders:
Ways you can help Find your Local SURJ Chapter
Anti-racism resources
Thanks so much for reading! If you're not already subscribed, I'd love for you to subscribe here. You can also check out my older newsletters here.
Also, I'd love to hear your thoughts— you can reply to this email if you loved or hated the letter, or you want to tell me about how your day has been. I'm all ears.
Awe-struck,
Nikhil