In the vastness of nature and the seas ….
I recently went on an Alaskan cruise (south-east Alaska, I now realize). It was with my sister-in-law K. At a family gathering last year she mentioned that she always wanted to go on a cruise; and since my wife (K’s sister) and K’s husband get queasy at the mere thought of being on the water, I volunteered to accompany her. Alaska was her preferred destination. OK. So we booked our cabins, and eventually the day arrived and we set out, flying to Vancouver and boarding the Grand Princess.
We had a wonderful time. And that was despite the fact that the weather was mostly miserable, and the expected highlight for us (the Endicott Pass and the Dawes Glacier) was a total no-no, as we stayed unmoving for our five-hour allocated slot at the entrance to the Pass because of heavy fog that came down to the water and obscured everything. It didn’t matter. The food was outstanding, there was an education presentation and entertainment every day, and we walked and (mostly) talked, about every subject under the sun. We got to know each other really well, after more than 50 years of being in the same family!
When we could see the scenery, it was utterly magnificent. Words can’t do it justice. The islands, the fjords, the tree-filled interlocking valleys and mountains with glacial ice on top, the times of seeing nothing but water that extended to the horizon, water and clouds merged through the haze and the mist – all of it was stunning in its beauty. And I felt – I knew – that nature is everything, and we creatures that inhabit the earth are nothing. Yes, our presence affects the earth, but relative to it we are just creatures that are lucky to live on it. We are insignificant.
It was a humbling feeling. Not humbling in the way many people use the word, because when they say they’re humbled they really mean they’re proud, but humbling in the sense of feeling much smaller than usual; and that humility was mixed with gratitude for our luck in being alive.
This was a sudden realization, not something that I have always felt; in fact I never thought about it before. But it really hit me.
I recall now that I have read about similar feelings recorded by others. My friend J says he has felt that way when fishing alone at night, or on a midnight watch in dark, gentle waters when he served in the Navy. Other friends have said that’s how they’ve felt when looking up, alone, at a clear, starry sky at night at their cottage.
And astronauts have expressed those feelings even more strongly, when seeing Earth from space. I felt a little bit of that emotion when I first saw the photo called Earthrise, of the Earth rising over the moon, seen from a space capsule hundreds of thousands of miles away. So I googled a number of things to get more detail. And here’s what I found. (Thank you, Wikipedia!)
Researchers characterize it as “a state of awe with self-transcendent qualities, precipitated by a particularly striking visual image” – a technical description of what they mundanely call the “overview effect” that still manages to capture the feeling: yes indeed, awe. They add that the effect can cause changes in the observer’s self-concept and value system, and can be transformative. English astronomer Fred Hoyle anticipated this, saying in 1948 that “once a photograph of the Earth, taken from the outside, is available, a new idea as powerful as any in history will be let loose.”
Astronaut Edgar Mitchell said in 1971 that he felt “an explosion of awareness” and an “overwhelming sense of oneness and connectedness … accompanied by an ecstasy … an epiphany.”
And Michael Collins, the astronaut who stayed in the command module when Armstrong and Aldrin touched down on the moon in 1969, said that “the thing that really surprised me was that [Earth] projected an air of fragility. And why, I don’t know. I don’t know to this day. I had a feeling it’s tiny, it’s beautiful, it’s home, and it’s fragile.”
All eloquently expressed, finding words that didn’t come to me. But though I was still on Earth’s surface, not out in space, I think I got some of that feeling of Earth’s fragility and beauty, and human insignificance.
***
Takeaway
When one gets a sense of being alone in the vastness and beauty of nature, it makes one realize how insignificant human beings are.
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I have written about retirement planning before and some of that material also relates to topics or issues that are being discussed here. Where relevant I draw on material from three sources: The Retirement Plan Solution (co-authored with Bob Collie and Matt Smith, published by John Wiley & Sons, Inc., 2009), my foreword to Someday Rich (by Timothy Noonan and Matt Smith, also published by Wiley, 2012), and my occasional column The Art of Investment in the FT Money supplement of The Financial Times, published in the UK. I am grateful to the other authors and to The Financial Times for permission to use the material here.
Awe is a special feeling
In the 70’s we lived in Vancouver and drove back to Ontario periodically to see Ann’s family. On each trip we would divert along the Jasper/Banff highway and stop near Edith Cavell and listen to Beethoven symphonies on our 8 track player. The landscape and the music makes one’s soul expand and puts you into your place- insignificance
Indeed it does — and awe is the word. Thanks for sharing tha.
We were there just before you and had the same profound reaction.
It really is something, isn’t it? Too bad we don’t feel it more often.
Nice post Don.
It reminds me of a ‘big trip’ I took for my 40th. From SA went to Yosemite to Las Vegas then hiking in the Grand Canyon. Long drive but well worth the awe and grandness of the canyon. Will remember it forever, especially a great elk we met – must dig out those photos soon before their lost
I’m trying to picture it — totally spectacular!
Don, beautiful post. My humbling experience was my morning walks in our farm’s old growth forest with Marlow, our Golden Retriever. I’ve heard it called Forest Bathing. Its a thing!! And, as a dog lover, made even better with Marlow along side! And the Grand Canyon – yes, it evokes similar feelings. Extraordinary place.
Lovely to feel it with Marlow with you! All the best — Don