Why We Need More Awe in Midlife

A few weeks ago, I started listening to Awe by Dacher Keltner. The timing couldn't have been better.

Like many people in midlife, I've spent years focused on responsibilities. Work. Family. Errands. Bills. Appointments. The endless list of things that need to get done.

Somewhere along the way, I stopped noticing things.

Not intentionally, of course. Life simply became busy.

But Keltner's book reminded me of something I had forgotten: awe isn't reserved for once-in-a-lifetime experiences. It's not just standing at the edge of the Grand Canyon or watching the Northern Lights. Awe can be found in ordinary moments if we're willing to pay attention.

A brilliant sunset.

The sound of birds on an early morning walk.

A piece of music that stirs a memory.

A garden in full bloom.

The laughter of a grandchild.

A sky filled with stars.

These moments have a way of pulling us out of ourselves. For a few seconds, the worries, to-do lists, and frustrations shrink. We remember that we are part of something larger.

But awe isn't found only in nature.

Sometimes awe arrives through other people.

I've always been moved by stories of individuals who experience profound hardship and somehow transform that pain into compassion. People who lose a loved one and dedicate themselves to helping others. People who hit a low point and emerge with a deeper understanding of what truly matters. People who choose to use their suffering as a bridge rather than a barrier.

There is something awe-inspiring about witnessing generosity when it isn't required.

About seeing someone offer forgiveness when they’ve been wronged.

About watching a person extend grace when judgment would be easier.

About choosing to see another person's humanity, even when their story is different from our own.

These moments remind me that human beings are capable of remarkable things.

In a world that often highlights conflict and division, acts of kindness can feel almost startling. A stranger helping someone in need. A neighbor quietly showing up during a difficult season. Someone choosing understanding over outrage. These moments rarely make headlines, but they have a way of restoring faith in humanity.

And perhaps that's why awe feels especially important in midlife.

This season of life can bring unexpected challenges. Changing health. Aging parents. Empty nests. Menopause. Questions about purpose and identity. It's easy to become preoccupied with what's changing or what's been lost.

Awe gently shifts our perspective.

It reminds us that beauty still exists.

That goodness still exists.

That wonder still exists.

That there is still so much left to discover.

I've started paying more attention lately. Not because I'm trying to become a different person, but because I want to experience life more fully.

I've noticed the way the light filters through the trees during an evening walk. I've lingered over a beautiful bloom in someone's garden. I've listened more carefully to stories of resilience, courage, and generosity. I've taken a few extra moments to appreciate the small kindnesses that happen around me every day.

These aren't dramatic experiences.

But they are meaningful.

And perhaps that's the secret.

Maybe creating a fulfilling second act isn't always about reinventing ourselves. Maybe it's also about recovering our sense of wonder.

The world hasn't become less remarkable.

We may simply need to slow down enough to notice.

Simple Ways to Invite More Awe Into Everyday Life

• Watch a sunrise or sunset.

• Take a walk without headphones.

• Listen to music that moves you.

• Spend time in nature.

• Read stories of resilience, courage, and forgiveness.

• Look for everyday acts of kindness.

• Offer help without expecting anything in return.

• Practice seeing people with curiosity rather than judgment.

• Keep a journal of moments that make you pause and feel grateful.

• Notice the goodness that often goes uncelebrated.

Awe doesn't have to cost money. It doesn't require special equipment or a plane ticket.

Sometimes it begins with paying attention.

And in a world that constantly competes for our attention, that may be one of the most powerful practices of all.