On a family holiday many decades ago, we stood at the bottom of a vast Icelandic glacier in torrential, horizontal rain. Drenched, we legged it back to the car to dry off, laughing with delight once safely inside. Nature was raw, wild and dominant here. We were the interlopers, the small creatures daring to explore. We were soaked for our impertinence, but my overriding memory is the sheer joy of the majesty of the place and the elements. It was awesome in the sense of pure awe.

As I learn to be more present to what’s around me, I’ve been experiencing more awe in my daily life.

Awe is a feeling of respect and amazement. It’s often linked to wonder - the sheer ‘wow’ - but it can also be tinged with fear or surprise, especially when we experience events that transcend our understanding or that demonstrate power we can’t control.

This feeling has surprisingly large healing potential.

Experiencing something so impressive, so amazing, connects us to something outside of and bigger than ourselves. At the same time, the vastness of that experience makes us shrink in relation to it. Through this shift of focus we experience both the greatness of the world and also the smallness of ourselves.

As we are also part of the same universe that contains this awe, we are humbled but not separated. Instead, we’re connect into something bigger than ourselves. This reconnection helps soothe one of the deepest wounds inflicted by ME, which is isolation.

All of this calms our system and lowers stress, which helps us heal.

When we go to the river near my home, I’m always awed by the magnificent trees lining the riverbank. Awe can be found in these grand things - the swoosh of a mountain range, the planetary scale of an eclipse - but it’s also there on a small or even microscopic scale. The structure of a leaf, the patterns of frost on the window, the incredible versatility of your own hand. Paying attention to these moments of micro awe can be just as healing and are all around us if we choose to look. It’s also present in music, art, sport, literature - everywhere really.

I particularly love feeling awe when seeing plants growing in unusual and inhospitable places - through a tiny crack in concrete, or on the side of a sheer cliff face. They’ve found a way to thrive, and so shall we.