Chapter 8 - Fear or Awe: Two Ways to Meet the Bigness of Life
From the book, Living as a Cathedral of Awe
Living as a Cathedral of Awe Book
Life is big.
Bigger than we can control.
Bigger than we can predict.
Bigger than we can prepare for.
And when we meet that bigness —
when we stand on the edge of something vast, unknown, powerful —
we have a choice, even if we don’t realize it.
We can meet it with fear.
Or we can meet it with awe.
For most of my early life,
fear was how I met the bigness.
Not because I chose it consciously.
But because that’s what I was taught.
Because that’s what survival required.
Fear said:
Be vigilant.
Anticipate danger.
Stay small.
Hide your heart.
Control what you can.
Brace for disappointment.
Fear taught me that life’s bigness was something to defend against —
that every unknown was a threat,
every change a loss,
every opening a trap.
It wasn’t until much later —
through my work, my healing, my frameworks, my daughters, my awakening —
that I realized:
The bigness itself was not the enemy.
It was how I had learned to meet it that shaped everything.
Because life’s bigness isn’t inherently cruel.
It isn’t inherently hostile.
It is simply vast.
It can overwhelm you if you meet it with fear.
But it can elevate you if you meet it with awe.
Awe says:
Look how vast this is — and I get to be part of it.
Look how much is unknown — and how beautiful that can be.
Look how much exceeds my control — and how much that invites me to trust, to wonder, to expand.
Awe doesn’t deny the immensity of life.
It bows to it.
It joins with it.
It lets the self grow larger, not smaller, in the presence of the vast.
This is why immersion, admiration, gratitude — the heart of the frameworks I built — are not just nice emotional outcomes.
They are sacred pathways out of fear.
When we design experiences that evoke awe —
through clarity, safety, meaning, connection —
we invite people to meet life’s bigness without shrinking away.
We invite them to trust again.
We invite them to expand instead of contract.
We invite them to remember that life is not just survival —
it is wonder, belonging, becoming.
I see now that much of what I have been doing —
in my frameworks, in my writing, in my healing —
has been retraining my nervous system, my mind, my soul
to meet life not with fear,
but with awe.
To stand at the edge of the unknown and say:
"I don't have to run.
I don't have to hide.
I don't have to control.
I can be here.
I can be part of this."
Fear isolates.
Awe connects.
Fear demands control.
Awe invites trust.
Fear shrinks the self to survive.
Awe expands the self to live.
Fear builds fortresses.
Awe builds bridges.
Fear says, "Protect yourself at all costs."
Awe says, "Expand yourself into the fullness of being."
And the beautiful truth is:
We can practice this.
We can choose it, micro-moment by micro-moment.
We can build experiences — for ourselves, for others —
that tilt the heart toward awe instead of fear.
Every micro-moment of high utility, of flourishing, of immersion,
is a doorway away from fear
and into awe.
I’m not perfect at it.
I still feel fear sometimes — real, primal, visceral.
But now, I know what’s happening.
I know it’s not the bigness that is dangerous.
It’s the lens of fear that makes it seem so.
And in those moments, I can breathe.
I can remember the awe.
I can choose wonder.
I can let the vastness be an invitation, not a threat.
This, in the end, is what all my work points toward:
A life lived not in the fortress of fear,
but in the cathedral of awe.
A life where the bigness of existence isn't something we brace against,
but something we open our arms to and say,
"Thank you.
I am here.
I am ready.
I am alive."
Next: Chapter 9 - Healing Is Awe Remembered: A Manifesto for My Life Going Forward
Choosing awe, flourishing, and sacred presence as a living daily vow.
