Awe and the Question of Being a Good Ancestor

Dialogue with Dacher Keltner

Introduction

Dacher Keltner is a psychologist whose research focuses on human sensations and emotions such as empathy, awe, and humility. He is widely recognized as a leading authority on the study of awe.
Awe refers to the feeling we experience when we encounter something vast and beyond our ordinary understanding—something that makes us aware of our own smallness. It may arise in the face of overwhelming natural landscapes, or in moments when the quiet beauty of everyday life leaves us speechless. Sometimes, it is evoked by encounters with intangible qualities such as depth of character or presence. There is no hierarchy among these experiences. Awe tends to arise unexpectedly, beyond the realm of our judgments or evaluations. It is a feeling full of possibility.

In his recent book, AWE: The New Science of Everyday Wonder and How It Can Transform Your Life, Keltner explores the scientific mechanisms behind this powerful emotion and presents numerous examples of how awe can transform our lives and consciousness.

In April 2025, I had the opportunity to meet with Dacher during his visit to Japan. Surrounded by the ancient architecture of a Kyoto temple, we spoke about our relationship to time, the power of rituals and spaces that connect us to our ancestors, and the question of what we should leave—or not leave—for future generations in order to become good ancestors ourselves.

He is also a professor at the University of California, Berkeley, where he has long created spaces of learning and reflection for young people shaping the future.

*You can listen to the audio of this conversation (in English) here:

*You can listen to last year's (2024) conversation on the website and podcast of The Greater Good Science Center at the University of California, Berkeley.

https://greatergood.berkeley.edu/podcasts/item/how_to_unwind_by_doing_mindful_yard_work_shoukei_matsumoto（podcast）

---

Awe and the Question of Being a Good Ancestor — Dialogue with Dacher Keltner

Shoukei:
For people who come from other countries, there's a tendency to think that Japanese temples must be places for mindfulness. But actually, for regular Japanese temples, the typical role is not that of a mindfulness space, but rather a place to offer prayers to one's ancestors. So, could we begin by listening to your story about your own ancestors?

Dacher:
Yeah. Well, my ancestors come from two different lineages. On my mom's side, they’re largely Scandinavian. They came from Norway to the Dakotas in the United States, and then my mom eventually settled in California. On my dad’s side—I was just talking with him about this recently; he's 87—they come from Ireland and Scotland.

And being here—I agree with you. One of my concerns about mindfulness is that it tends to be very inwardly focused. It centers on sensations and breath, which is beneficial, but I believe we also need to think outwardly and beyond the present moment. It’s really meaningful for me to be here, Shoukei, because my dad introduced me to Buddhism when I was young, and you’ve helped deepen my interest in Pure Land Buddhism and your practices—like sweeping and clearing the mind. Being here is a way for me to connect to that thread of my father's family, which has been interested in Buddhism.

Also, I’d extend that idea further. In my research on awe, I've come to think of my ancestors as including other living forms as well. The imagery here—the herons, grasses, trees, blossoms—also gives me a deep sense of connection to ancestry.

　

What Inspires the Sense of Awe

Shoukei:
I would say that for many Japanese people, there's a daily routine for remembering their connection with their ancestors. In a traditional Japanese household, there’s usually a family altar at home. Every morning, people change the water and place a bowl of rice as an offering. In front of the Buddha statue and photos of their ancestors, they offer prayers. It serves as a reminder of our mortality and the fact that we, too, will become ancestors at the end of our lives.

Since you’ve done research on awe—and actually written a book that I'm now translating into Japanese—

Dacher:
Thank you very much.

Shoukei:
Thank you. From your perspective, what’s the relationship between awe and remembering our ancestors?

Dacher:
It’s profound. One of the moving things about being here in Japan—with its deep traditions of honoring ancestors—is being in temples where people have come for hundreds of years, engaging in the same rituals: chanting, sitting. These evoke a sense of connection that goes beyond the present moment—to other eras, generations, and ancestors.

Sadly, but also inspiringly, one of the common sources of awe in our research is intergenerational awareness and contact. Being around grandparents, hearing their life stories, and feeling continuity in your own life—that’s awe-inspiring.

Time itself can be awe-inspiring too. When we feel the vastness of time—like my moment of contemplation with you today linking to similar moments hundreds of years ago—it gives me goosebumps. Ritual time and remembering ancestors in places we share with them—that’s a major source of awe.

Regrettably, in the U.S., this is something that's been gutted or is disappearing. We don’t spend time with our ancestors—or even our grandparents, who will become ancestors. We move away, we become isolated. Many people don’t go to church; 45% of Americans have no religious or spiritual practice. So, being here in your temple, seeing these practices—it’s a very poignant moment for me.

Shoukei:
You know, there are many places in the U.S. where people can feel the small self effect—like in the mountains, among gigantic rocks, or under a sky full of stars. That’s the small self in terms of space. But in terms of time, as you said, it’s much more limited.

Dacher:
I agree. We’re a young country, and we’ve done many things that have broken apart communities. We live in isolated homes, and we’ve lost the sense of continuity and time in our places. So, what's often missing from our experience of awe is the temporal dimension, which is one of the richest. That’s why we need to learn from you.

Shoukei:
Are there any moments in your everyday life when you feel you’re cultivating that sense of time?

Dacher:
Yes. A couple of examples stand out. I’ve traveled to the Himalayas five times and worked in Bhutan and Nepal. They have many meditations focused on the cycle of time—imagining loved ones being born, passing away, and becoming ancestors. I practice that about once a month, and it’s given me a deeper sense of time—something American culture doesn’t usually nurture.

Also, you and I have spent time together in Berkeley. Next time you're there, I’ll take you to see our redwood trees. Some of them are among the oldest and largest living organisms on Earth—360 feet tall, hundreds or even a thousand years old. The bristlecone pines in the eastern Sierras are four or five thousand years old.

And I was lucky—as is often the case here in Japan—to feel a sense of kinship with trees and other living species. The redwoods teach me deeply about time. They were here before humans, before Westerners came to Berkeley, where I live. They remind me of how small my brief moment in time really is.

Shoukei:
So they’ve been witnessing everything.

Dacher:
Yes. They feel like they’re witnessing.

Shoukei:
Yeah—the beauty and problems of humanity.

Dacher:
Yes. All wrapped up in the human species.

　

What to Leave—and Not Leave—for the Future

Shoukei:
All right. So let me bring in a question I often ask leaders: How can we become good ancestors for future generations? Do you have any thoughts or answers?

Dacher:
Yeah. I’m a teacher—I’ve taught young people for 33 years as a professor. I’m a parent of two daughters, and I care deeply about their friends too. I was fortunate, as I said earlier, to be exposed to Buddhism in my teenage years—starting with Zen, then Himalayan traditions, other branches of Buddhism, and also Daoism.

I do agree with your thinking, Shoukei, that the Western capitalist mindset has led to problems—separation, exploitation, colonialism. So I think we’re in a moment in history when we need to bring forward new—or perhaps ancient—ideas about interbeing, as you call it. We are all part of something greater.

With my students—and when I leave this world—I will become an ancestor to my children and to my students. The question I always want to leave with them is: What do you really care about? Where do you find a sense of spirit?

So I’m happy that both my daughters are interested in Buddhism and yoga. In my fractured American life, without the rituals that offer continuity—like the ones in this temple—I’ve still been able to pass something along to them. I think our task is to offer the next generation new ways of being in the world.

Shoukei:
Beautiful. When it comes to becoming a good ancestor, people often ask: What can we leave for future generations? But I think we should also ask: What should we stop doing? What should we not leave behind?

In other words, from a long-term perspective, as long as we’re breathing the same air in 2025—whether we’re infants or elders—we belong to the same generation. So as members of this same generation, what should we stop doing? What should we not pass on to future generations?

Dacher:
That’s a powerful question, Shoukei. I come from the U.S., and I think we’re doing a lot of things that we need to stop.

First, we need to stop focusing so much on the self—especially psychologically. We need to stop losing our awareness in digital platforms and return to direct experience—to interbeing, as you would say.

We need to stop clinging to outdated ideas, like the Abrahamic concept of the Great Chain of Being, where humans are at the top—believing we’re a special species. Those ideas no longer serve us. So yes, I come from a country with a lot to unlearn, and I hope we can learn from other cultures and start making progress. Because we’re truly putting many things at risk.

Shoukei:
That’s true. But really, every culture has something to learn from others. As a Japanese person, I know I have many things to learn from the people of the United States.

Dacher:
I agree. With humility.

Shoukei:
Yes, humility. Humility is something the founder of Jodo Shinshu emphasized.

So I think it’s important to cultivate a sense of openness toward the unknown. My answer today—different from the question I asked—is this: It’s good to stop our tendency to try to control everything. When we let go of control, we begin to see the world as full of unknown and interesting things, in a fresh way.

Dacher:
Yes, yes. Charles Darwin is a hero of mine, scientifically. He made profound discoveries about life in nature. He was endlessly curious, humble, and deeply interested in the unknown—asking, "Why are we who we are?"

I think he represents, in the scientific world, what it means to be humble and curious about the unknown. And I think that’s one of the great qualities of the human mind—our fascination with what we don’t yet know.

Shoukei:
Beautiful. So let’s hope for more. Then, the world will be full of awe.

Dacher:
It really will. Thank you so much for having me on this program, Shoukei.

Shoukei:
See you. Thank you.

Dacher:
Thank you.