In a world overflowing with noise, urgency, pressure, and distraction, our souls long for something to relieve the angst. That something is ancient and sacred. It’s called awe.

What is Awe?

As a clinical psychologist with decades of experience, I’ve spent my life in the trenches of suffering—eating disorders, anxiety, trauma, loss, and the ways we hurt and heal.

And what follows is what I’m learning to understand.

Words can’t quite capture what it feels like to stand in a redwood forest. Imagine being surrounded by thousands of ancient trees, many soaring over 250 feet into the sky. There’s a quiet majesty to it—a sense that the world is far vaster, older, and more mysterious than you may understand In that moment, you’re not just observing the forest—you’re part of it. Immersed in its wonder, its stillness, its history.

Awe is the soft sensation in your chest when a newborn’s tiny fingers instinctively curl around yours.

It’s the breathless stop when a sunrise or sunset paints the sky just right, and for a moment—just a moment—you forget everything else: your inbox, your plans, your worries.

Awe reminds you that there’s more. More than the noise, more than the rush.

Awe stops you in your tracks when the sun is magnificently rising or setting, you forget your to-do list, your email inbox, your worries—if only for a breath.

As a clinical psychologist with decades of experience, I’ve spent my life in the trenches of suffering—eating disorders, anxiety, trauma, identity loss, and the myriad ways we hurt and heal. And here’s what I’ve come to understand with near reverence:

Awe is medicine.
Not a luxury. Not an indulgence. But  powerful, embodied medicine.

Awe as a Bridge Back to Ourselves

Psychology tends toward the clinical, diagnostic, left-brained. Tidy explanations.

But awe refuses to be reduced to bullet points. And maybe that’s why we need it so desperately. Awe makes us feel deeply connected—to the Earth, to mystery, to each other, to ourselves.

For people in the throes of disordered eating or body image distress, awe can be a radical interruption to the usual programming.

When you’re stuck in relentless self-monitoring, calorie-counting, mirror-checking, and body shaming, your inner world becomes “claustrophobic”…. There’s no room to breathe, let alone dream.

But then awe enters.

Maybe it’s a moment in nature.
Perhaps it’s hearing music that stirs something.
Maybe it’s watching a child sleep, or your dog wag its tail with unfiltered joy.

Awe opens a window.
And through that window, light pours in. No permission needed.

The Science of Awe—and Why It Matters

Research in positive psychology has shown that awe doesn’t just feel good—it does good.

Studies reveal that awe can:

• Reduce inflammation in the body

• Lower stress and promote calm

• Expand time perception (you feel less rushed, more present)

• Increase generosity

• Diminish the grip of the ego

• Enhance life satisfaction

In one Stanford study, participants who walked through a grove of eucalyptus trees reported more positive emotions, greater compassion, and even less focus on themselves than those who walked through an urban area.  Awe literally shifts us from a “me” orientation to a “we” orientation.

This is not just a philosophical shift—it’s a neurological one.

Awe quiets the default mode network in the brain, the part responsible for rumination and self-referential thinking (aka the inner critic’s home base).

When awe steps in, the inner critic takes a backseat. Even if only for a moment.

And in recovery, a moment of relief from the tyranny of negative self-talk can be everything.

Awe in the Therapy Office

When I sit with clients—especially those who are highly sensitive, perfectionistic, or struggling to feel at home in their own bodies—I may invite them to recall a moment of awe. Not to fix or bypass pain, but to reconnect them with a deeper truth: You are more than this struggle. You are a part of something vast, beautiful, and unfinished.

We often underestimate how profound a single moment can be.  A client once described lying on her back in the sea, watching clouds shape-shift above her, and realizing she felt peaceful. For the first time in years. She wept. Not because she was sad, but because she remembered what it was like to feel alive.

That’s awe.

It doesn’t need to be dramatic. It doesn’t need to be posted or liked or filtered. In fact, awe thrives in the quiet. In the noticing. Yes, in the letting go.

An Antidote to Body Hatred

So many people I work with, especially women, carry deep wounds related to their bodies. They’ve learned to see their bodies as enemies, problems to be solved, projects to be fixed and perfected. And the culture reinforces this daily, offering an endless loop of “not enough’s.”

Awe cuts through that noise.

When you stand by the ocean and feel the tide pull at your ankles, the same water that carved coastlines for centuries—how could your thighs be the most important thing?

When you witness a hummingbird’s wings blur in motion or smell the sweetness of lilacs after rain—how could a number on a scale define your worth?

Your body is not a billboard.

It is a vessel of perception, a keeper of memory, a threshold to awe.

Sometimes, recovery starts not with a food journal or cognitive restructuring, but with a single, awe-filled breath.

Cultivating Awe in Everyday Life

You don’t need to head off to Patagonia or wait for a life-altering event.

Awe is available here, now. All it asks is your attention.

Try this:

• Step outside at night. Look up. Watch the moon.

• Revisit childhood wonder. Blow bubbles. Lie on a picnic blanket. Go on a swing and pump your legs.

• Listen to music that gives you chills. Let it wash over you.

• Read poetry aloud. Let the rhythm become a meditation.

• Make something with your hands. Clay, bread, a wild bouquet. Awe lives in creation.

• Say thank you to something you can’t explain. Grace. Time. Your heartbeat.

Final Thoughts: Let Awe Be the Companion You Didn’t Know or Forgot You Had

You don’t have to earn awe.

You don’t have to deserve it.

Awe isn’t a prize.

It’s a presence.

And in the face of fear, shame, or self-hate, awe is not the opposite—it’s the antidote.

Let it find you.

Let it remind you that your body is not broken, your soul is not lost, and your story is not over.

And, let it show you the truth that sometimes is just waiting for you to discover, buried beneath diagnosis or despair:

Dr. Elayne Daniels is a clinical psychologist with over 25 years of experience helping people reclaim peace with food, body, and self. She specializes in eating disorders, body image, high sensitivity, and the transformative power of presence. To learn more, visit www.drelaynedaniels.com.