I can absolutely attest to the healing and restorative power of awe. In the last two years I was diagnosed with a systemic autoimmune disease and also have been undergoing failed fertility treatments which have resulted in nothing other than a baby boy I tragically miscarried. The pain, sadness, and all-consuming grief I have endured have been earth shattering for me. Many days I barely remember who I am, and I struggle to relate to the world around me. The few moments of awe and wonder I have experienced in the last couple of years are one of the only things that sustain me. They remind me that I can still feel joy, that I can think about anything other than being sick and losing my baby, that I can still be surprised and fascinated and overwhelmed by beauty. For me these moments have come during road trips with my husband and our dog. We’ve repeatedly road-tripped through the southwest and the deserts of California. I felt the presence of majesty amongst the suguaros of the Sonoran desert. I was bowled over by the imposing and mysterious Kofa wildlife refuge. I felt small amongst the vastness of the open roads of New Mexico and White Sands, and that was comforting. Awe and wonder have reminded me that I have not lost the person I am. As long as I can still feel awe, I know I can keep going. Awe is the best medicine I’ve found, better than therapy, and I’ve returned home from every one of my trips happier, more hopeful, and replenished in ways I desperately need.

I can absolutely attest to the healing and restorative power of awe. In the last two years I was diagnosed with a systemic autoimmune disease and also have been undergoing failed fertility treatments which have resulted in nothing other than a baby boy I tragically miscarried. The pain, sadness, and all-consuming grief I have endured have been earth shattering for me. Many days I barely remember who I am, and I struggle to relate to the world around me. The few moments of awe and wonder I have experienced in the last couple of years are one of the only things that sustain me. They remind me that I can still feel joy, that I can think about anything other than being sick and losing my baby, that I can still be surprised and fascinated and overwhelmed by beauty. For me these moments have come during road trips with my husband and our dog. We’ve repeatedly road-tripped through the southwest and the deserts of California. I felt the presence of majesty amongst the suguaros of the Sonoran desert. I was bowled over by the imposing and mysterious Kofa wildlife refuge. I felt small amongst the vastness of the open roads of New Mexico and White Sands, and that was comforting. Awe and wonder have reminded me that I have not lost the person I am. As long as I can still feel awe, I know I can keep going. Awe is the best medicine I’ve found, better than therapy, and I’ve returned home from every one of my trips happier, more hopeful, and replenished in ways I desperately need.

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