Walk with SMB: Awe, Wonder, and the Things We Almost Miss

Episode Summary: A ten-minute break outside turns into a reflection on awe, wonder, and the quiet intelligence of the natural world. In this solo Walk with SMB episode, Susan shares how spotting a perfectly camouflaged sphinx moth on a tree outside her home shifted her attention completely away from work, stress, and mental noise — and back into observation, curiosity, and presence.

Through stories of a robin building a nest, maple seeds emerging in spring, and a green turtle gliding through the ocean, this episode explores how nature invites us to slow down enough to notice what we often overlook. Susan also shares research on awe and wonder, including how these experiences may support nervous system regulation, attention restoration, and a deeper sense of connection.

Sometimes the moments that root us most deeply are the ones small enough to miss.

SHOW NOTES

What happens when we truly pay attention to the world around us?

In this reflective Walk with SMB episode, Susan explores the connection between awe, wonder, nature, and wellbeing through a series of deeply ordinary — and deeply meaningful — encounters with the natural world.

It begins with a sphinx moth nearly invisible against the bark of a tree outside her home. That brief moment of noticing becomes an invitation into something larger: a conversation about attention, curiosity, nervous system regulation, and the role nature plays in helping us feel connected and present.

Susan reflects on watching a robin build a nest in a matter of hours, noticing the pink-green emergence of maple seeds in spring, and observing the intricate shell pattern of a green turtle while snorkeling in the ocean. Along the way, she shares research on awe and wonder and explores why these experiences may matter more than we realize in a world shaped by urgency, distraction, and constant stimulation.

This episode is an invitation to slow down, look closer, and rediscover the quiet moments of awe waiting just outside our doors.

Key Themes

• Awe and wonder in everyday nature experiences

• Attention restoration and nervous system regulation

• The relationship between observation and wellbeing

• Nature as a doorway back into presence

• Ecological intelligence and interconnectedness

• Curiosity as a form of relationship with the natural world

• The difference between awe and wonder

• Finding moments of rootedness in ordinary life

Key Takeaways

• Awe can emerge in small, everyday moments — not only dramatic experiences.

• Wonder begins when we slow down enough to notice more deeply.

• Nature shifts the quality of our attention away from urgency and toward observation.

• Brief moments outside can interrupt rumination and mental overload.

• The natural world constantly reveals intelligence, pattern, and beauty when we pause long enough to see it.

• Awareness itself may be one of the first steps toward feeling more rooted.

“Sometimes awe isn’t about dramatic experiences. Sometimes it’s a moth on a tree beside the sidewalk.”

Reflection Prompt

What is something in the natural world you’ve walked past many times without truly noticing? What changes when you pause long enough to observe it more closely?

Prefer to read?

The full transcript is below.

• Full Transcript

  Walk with SMB: Awe, Wonder, and the Things We Almost Miss

  Opening

  Welcome to Walk with SMB, a space for reflective walks and conversations about nature, wellbeing, and what it means to live in relationship with the world around us.

  I’m Susan Morgan Bailey, and today I want to talk about awe, wonder, and the things we almost miss.

  Today’s episode began with a moth.

  Not in some remote forest.
  Not on a hiking trail.
  Not during some profound wilderness experience.

  Just outside my house.
  Ten minutes between meetings.
  Barefoot in the grass.

  I had come back to work today after a week off, and my brain already felt crowded again. Emails. Tasks. Re-entry. You know that feeling when your nervous system suddenly remembers the pace of modern life?

  And it was beautiful outside, so I decided to step away for a few minutes.

  I walked outside without my shoes on and stood in the grass. And then I found myself wandering over to a tree that sits in the little buffer between the sidewalk and the street in front of my house.

  And for whatever reason, the thought that entered my mind was:

  Would the base of this tree be a good place for a little fairy village?

  You know those tiny whimsical doors people sometimes attach to trees. Little hidden worlds. Tiny invitations to imagination.

  I was literally thinking about whimsy when something on the bark caught my eye.

  At first I couldn’t quite tell what I was seeing. The leaves on the tree haven’t come out yet, so the bark is fully exposed. I leaned in closer.

  And there it was.

  A large waved sphinx moth pressed flat against the trunk of the tree, blended in almost perfectly with the bark.

  I actually ran inside to grab my camera because I thought, please don’t leave.

  But of course he didn’t leave. It was daytime. He was doing exactly what he was designed to do — disappear into the tree so he wouldn’t become lunch for something else.

  And for the next several minutes, I stopped thinking about work entirely.

  I stopped thinking about everything, honestly.

  I just observed.

  Then my neighbors happened to walk by, and I called them over and said, “Can you see it?”

  At first they couldn’t.

  So I gave them little hints until finally they saw him too.

  And it felt like finding treasure together.

  Transition

  What struck me later was that this tiny moment contained so much of what I’ve been thinking about lately:

  • awe

  • wonder

  • attention

  • nervous system regulation

  • delight

  • relationship with nature

  All of it happened in less than ten minutes beside a suburban sidewalk.

  Not because I was trying to optimize wellbeing.
  Not because I was doing a formal mindfulness exercise.
  But because something shifted in my attention.

  And I think many of us are hungry for that shift.

  Awe + Wonder

  I’ve been reading lately about the connection between awe, wonder, nature, and wellbeing.

  And researchers actually distinguish awe and wonder as slightly different experiences.

  Awe tends to happen when we encounter something vast, mysterious, or astonishing enough that it interrupts our normal thinking.

  We often associate awe with mountains or oceans or standing beneath a sky full of stars.

  But awe can also happen in very small moments.

  Like find a moth that can camouflage itself so perfectly into bark that your brain almost misses it entirely.

  Awe quiets us for a moment.

  It interrupts the constant self-referencing loop many of us live inside:
  What do I need to do next?
  What am I behind on?
  What problem do I need to solve?

  Researchers have found that awe can reduce rumination and soften stress responses because our attention shifts outward into relationship with something larger than ourselves.

  Wonder feels a little different.

  Wonder feels more curious. More exploratory.

  Wonder says:
  Wait… what is that?
  How does that work?
  What else have I not noticed?

  And that’s exactly what happened after I saw the moth.

  I immediately started wondering:
  How many moths have I walked past without ever seeing them?

  And then I started thinking about other moments recently where nature completely captured my attention in the same way.

  Robin Story

  A couple weeks ago, over the course of a day I watched a female robin build a nest outside my house.

  in a matter of hours.

  I watched her carry pieces of grass and twigs and surprisingly heavy, wet material up into the windowsill of my neighbors window over and over and over again.

  And somehow, by the end of the day, there was this perfectly formed nest.

  I remember thinking:
  I could not recreate that if I tried.

  The engineering of it.
  The instinct of it.
  The precision of it.

  And again, I found myself pulled into wonder.

  How does she know how to do that?

  How much intelligence exists in the living world that we barely pause long enough to notice?

  Maple Seeds

  And later today, while I was out walking again, I noticed something else I had somehow never really seen before.

  The maple trees are beginning to leaf out right now, and they’re covered in seeds — those little helicopter seeds we all know.

  But before they turn green or brown, they’re this soft pinkish-green color.

  And I stood there realizing:
  I’ve seen maple seeds my entire life.

  But I had never really noticed this stage before.

  Turtle Story

  And then last week, I was snorkeling in the ocean watching a green turtle swim below me.

  And I became completely absorbed in the pattern of its shell.

  Every shell looked different. They have patterns on them that look like green, white and blue tie-dye.  

  The same underlying structure repeated — these larger scales down the center, smaller ones surrounding them — but every turtle uniquely patterned. 

  And I remember feeling awe at the beauty of it. They are mesmerizing creatures…

  But also something else.

  I found myself thinking about the simplicity of the turtle’s life.

  Looking for sea grass.
  Coming up for air.
  Moving with the current.

  There was something deeply calming about watching a creature so fully embedded in its environment.

  Not rushing.
  Not multitasking.
  Not separating itself from the ecosystem it belongs to.

  Just participating in it.

  Broader Reflection

  And maybe this is part of what awe and wonder do.

  They don’t necessarily change the world around us.

  They change our relationship to it.

  They reopen attention.

  And I think many of us are starving for that kind of attention right now.

  Modern life asks us to focus constantly on efficiency, urgency, productivity, information.

  Nature invites a different mode entirely.

  Observation.
  Curiosity.
  Relationship.
  Presence.

  Noticing.

  And maybe this is part of why even brief moments outside can shift how we feel so quickly.

  Not because nature magically removes our problems.

  But because, for a moment, we stop living entirely inside our own mental noise.

  We enter relationship with something older, more patterned, more interconnected.

  Invitation / Challenge

  So here’s my invitation for you this week.

  Go outside and look for something you haven’t noticed before.

  Not something spectacular.
  Not something worthy of social media.

  Just something real.

  Maybe it’s:

  • bark texture

  • birds building nests

  • moss in sidewalk cracks

  • new leaves emerging

  • insects blending into trees

  • cloud movement

  • the smell of rain coming or the smell after rain has fallen

  And when you notice something, stay with it for another thirty seconds longer than you normally would.

  Let yourself wonder about it.

  What is it doing?
  Why is it shaped that way?
  How long has it been there unnoticed?

  See what happens in your body when your attention shifts from managing life… to observing life.

  Because sometimes awe isn’t about dramatic experiences.

  Sometimes it’s a moth on a tree beside the sidewalk.

  Sometimes it’s a robin building a nest.

  Sometimes it’s the shell pattern of a turtle moving quietly through the ocean.

  And sometimes awareness itself is the first step toward feeling more rooted.

  Closing

  Thanks for walking with me today.

  This week, may you find something you almost missed.

  A small moment of awe.
  A spark of wonder.
  A reminder that the world is still alive with things waiting to be noticed.

  Until next time… Buen camino.