Many of us, in our loneliest of times, have had awe-inspiring experiences with wild birds, trees, starlit skies, or oceans—and suddenly realized we didn’t feel so lonely after all. We sensed we belonged to something greater and wider, the “more-than-human world,” as David Abram, ecologist and philosopher, writes.

Recent research reassures us that we feel less lonely during moments of awe that take our breath away. In a grief support group that I’ve co-facilitated, a woman who lost her son to an opioid overdose claims, “On my walks by the river alone, I feel the spirit of my son, who loved red-tailed hawks, as they circle over me and land near me. I open up to a sense of wonder and gratitude—and it feels good deep in my soul.”

Another older man in the group offers, “I don’t really feel lonely when I’m out on the water alone, in my kayak, exploring, wandering. I love just hearing the sound of the lapping water and the wind. It’s all I need to find solace when people have let me down.”

Whether or not we are alone, we can always turn to our sense of wonder, take a walk, or sit by our window and look out to the sky. Mary Oliver beckons us with her poem, “Wild Geese”: “Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, the world offers itself to your imagination, calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting—over and over announcing your place in the family of things.”

I can attest to my encounters with blue herons: They always call me out of my fretful thoughts when they fly over me with their huge, graceful wings. After a moment of sheer amazement looking up at them, a sudden shift in my brain occurs—snapping me out of........

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