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By Maggie Brother, PMHNP-BC
Founder of Wylde Collective
For as long as I can remember, to my mind-numbing detriment, I have wondered what the purpose of life is. Not in a self-improvement way, but literally, why is my consciousness embodying this human suit and interacting with other consciousnesses in their suits as if this is all perfectly normal?
I was raised Catholic and, amongst many other reasons, never fully aligned with an ideology that relied so heavily on fear, shame, and guilt. Despite constantly seeking, I still don’t know why we’re here on an intellectual level.
But I think there’s a part of us that recognizes meaning before we can explain it. We can feel what aligns with who we authentically are and what doesn’t. We know when something feels deeply right, even if we can’t articulate why.
And perhaps that’s because meaning isn’t always something we need to understand. Sometimes it’s something we need to experience.
The Extraordinary in the Ordinary
Finding awe is recognizing what taps into your authentic self at its highest level.
Awe can be found in moments, connections, hobbies, interests, places, and circumstances.
I can find awe screaming emo music and select Taylor Swift bridges in my car. I find it floating in the ocean, feeling my body lifted with each wave. I find it in being ridiculous, goofy, or random and in the belly laughs that connect human to human.
Others might find awe in the smell of autumn or that last perfect color of the sky right before the sun fully sets.
Not all of these experiences fit the scientific definition of awe. Some are joy, connection, wonder, or simple delight. But they share something important: they pull us out of our heads and into the experience of being alive.
And I think that’s where something interesting happens.
I’ve spent an extraordinary amount of time questioning why we’re here. But I’ve realized that I don’t tend to ask those questions when I’m immersed in the experiences I love.
I’m not floating in the ocean wondering what the point of existence is.
I’m just floating in the ocean.
It’s when life becomes an endless cycle of waking up, working, fulfilling obligations, going to sleep, and doing it all over again that the questions creep in.
Is this really it? Is this what we’re here for?
Maybe the question isn’t always about the meaning of existence.
Maybe sometimes it’s about the absence of experiences that make existence feel meaningful.
The Science of Awe
Psychologists have spent decades studying awe, and the findings are fascinating.
Awe is generally understood as an emotional response to something we perceive as vast, whether physically, intellectually, or emotionally, that challenges our existing understanding of the world.
Think of standing beneath an enormous night sky, hearing a piece of music that moves you beyond words, or witnessing an extraordinary act of human kindness.
Researchers have identified something called the small-self effect. When we experience awe, our individual concerns can temporarily become less prominent as we recognize ourselves as part of something larger.
Studies have also associated awe with greater feelings of social connection, increased generosity, and even changes in how we perceive time.
Which makes sense when you think about it.
So much of our mental energy is devoted to ourselves. Our responsibilities, our worries, our accomplishments, our failures, our endless internal commentary.
Awe has a remarkable ability to shift our attention outward.
For a moment, we’re not the center of our own universe.
We’re simply part of it.
And there’s something profoundly freeing about that.
This doesn’t mean awe cures anxiety, depression, or existential distress. It doesn’t mean we can appreciate our way out of genuine hardship.
But it may offer us something valuable: a temporary reprieve from the relentless demand to analyze, evaluate, and make sense of everything.
Awe doesn’t necessarily answer our existential questions. It can make us feel less compelled to ask them.
When the World Feels Anything but Wonderful
What that subconscious part of me keeps reminding me is that we are not here simply to work, resent, fake smiles, pretend, and keep our thoughts and feelings to ourselves.
And yet, finding awe can feel particularly challenging right now.
We live in a time saturated with hate, bullying, divisiveness, scarcity, and fear. We’re constantly exposed to suffering, injustice, and reminders of everything that is wrong with the world.
For those of us who feel these things deeply, it can be difficult to reconcile the beauty of life with its cruelty.
Sometimes, allowing ourselves to experience joy can even feel inappropriate when so many others are suffering.
But I think this is precisely when finding awe becomes most important.
Not because we should look away from what’s happening.
Not because we should replace justified anger with gratitude or pretend that everything is fine.
And certainly not because a beautiful sunset is going to fix systemic injustice.
But because finding beauty is not a denial of suffering. It’s a refusal to let suffering become the entirety of our experience.
We can be devastated by what’s happening in the world and still laugh until our stomachs hurt.
We can be furious about injustice and still be moved by a beautiful piece of music.
We can grieve what humanity is capable of while remaining in awe of what humanity is capable of.
These experiences don’t cancel each other out.
They coexist.
And perhaps preserving our capacity for wonder, connection, and joy is one of the ways we preserve our humanity in a world that can make it difficult to do so.
Maybe This Is What Makes Life Worth Living
I don’t know why consciousness exists. I don’t know why we’re here, what happens when we die, or whether there’s some greater purpose to all of this.
And despite a lifetime of thinking about it, I’m not sure I’ll ever know.
But I’m beginning to wonder whether I’ve been asking the wrong question.
Instead of Why am I here?
Maybe I should be asking, What makes being here worthwhile?
Because I do have answers to that question.
They’re in the ocean. They’re in music. They’re in unexpected connections, ridiculous laughter, beautiful places, and moments that remind me how extraordinary it is that we get to experience any of this at all.
And maybe those moments aren’t distractions from the meaning of life.
Maybe they’re part of the meaning itself.
So find yours.
Connect with people. Care for yourself. Seek out experiences that make you feel curious, connected, moved, or wonderfully insignificant in the grand scheme of things.
Make room for the things that remind you there’s more to life than the routine of getting through it.
Not because life is always beautiful.
Not because everything happens for a reason.
But because even when life is difficult, there is still so much worth experiencing.
And maybe we don’t have to figure out the meaning of life to find meaning in living it.
Ready to Take the First Step?
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