the necessity of awe

what you need when you don't want to do anything

If moving is the seventh layer of hell, moving internationally is the eighth. I would not wish it upon my worst enemy. That being said, I’m elated to share that I’ve just completed my second international move in two years. 

Look, it’s not really the move that’s the problem. A move is a glorious opportunity for a fresh start. I love newness and the opportunity for transformation.

It’s the minutiae of a move that rips a soul apart. The moving itself. It’s the part that can’t be outsourced to someone else because it’s your stuff and your life. Every knickknack and object requires a decision. Do we bring it or buy it again?

Once the decisions are made, then there’s the execution. Selling my prized possessions one by one, getting bartered on both ends and hemorrhaging money— another certain type of hell. I got so into my spreadsheets, I could have told you at any minute how much money we were losing on each transaction as we cleared out the apartment. 

Not the most fun way to use mental space. 

Enter awe.

Awe is essential because it slices through the mundane. It does not care how much is on your to-do list. It rips you out of your planning mind and shoves you back into your feeling body. 

I love awe. But more than that, I need awe. 

I was reminded of this one week before we moved. G’s grandma came to Spain from Venezuela five days before we left. It was a miracle that the timing overlapped—it would have been heartbreaking to miss her. 

The day she arrived, I was mid-tornado. I was on the phone with the moving company, with the house half in boxes, when I realized I had double-booked myself to speak on a podcast and be at the airport with his family to meet her. I didn’t flinch, emailing the podcast host, who was a very important person, that I, the not-very important person, had made a mistake and wouldn’t be able to make it. 

On the way to the airport, my head was spinning. I felt like an idiot for double-booking and was pissed at myself for time mismanagement. I also had a sinking feeling that there were other balls I was dropping if I could mess up not one but two significant things in one swoop. 

At the airport, there was a crowd of people twenty deep, and we made our way into the mass. I kept refreshing my email to see if the very important person had accepted my apology or not.

But even in my distress, I felt the electric energy of anticipation wrapping around the crowd. Putting my phone away, I noticed the men with flowers and the kids with signs, all of us peering toward the doors, looking for loved ones. 

We stood like that for some time. As the flights started to trickle out, excitement rippled through the group. With each person walking through the door, there was an exclamation and an embrace. Flowers were received, babies were kissed, and the room became a decibel louder with the frenzy of greetings. 

The news came that her flight had arrived and anticipation through us. I turned to G and watched him watch the door. With each person that wasn’t his grandma, his hopeful face fell. It went like this for twenty minutes, his smile lifting and crashing.

Then his face split open with a joy I've never seen before. The group of us rushed forward, and his beautiful grandma was swept up in the flurry of hugs and kisses.

G was crying, all the family was crying, and the guide who escorted her from the plane was crying. I realized I was crying too, and as I wiped my eyes, I noticed strangers around us doing the same.

I watched G hug and kiss her cheeks, and my heart lurched with emotion. To see someone you love so much, love someone so much—the preciousness took my breath away.

What a gift it was to witness such a jubilant reunion. It awed me. Seeing such fierce joy, immense relief, and extraordinary love melted me. 

More than that, it shook me. It took me right out of my mundane, to-do-list-making misery and connected me back to creativity, hope, and love. 

On the way home from the airport, I reflected on what I had just witnessed and was reminded of why we were moving in the first place. For love, of course! Because we couldn’t bear to be separated; our lives were so much better together. 

It wasn’t about having a perfect move, saving the most money in the transition, or some other logistical goal. 

The real miracle was that I found the partner I had dreamed of since I was a little girl. Even more than that, I was so sure he was the right person that I’d move from my paradise to a great unknown, knowing it would be greater than the already great thing I knew, because we would be together. 

Maybe the logistics wouldn’t be perfect, but my priorities were right. I needed awe to remind me of that. Feeling love helped me see the love in my life again. It brought me back into my body and out of my overthinking head. I felt expansive again. I remembered myself. 

If you’re feeling disconnected, maybe you need awe. I know I did. 

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What’s your favorite way to find awe? I am moved by art, beautiful words, nature, history, love, and exercise. When I start to get stuck again, I find it helpful to remind myself I have levers to pull.