Have you ever experienced Galagog? (No, this isn't a typo)

Yes, Galagog.

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Okay, so you won’t find this word in Merriam-Webster or the Oxford English Dictionary. But you will find it in the Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows written by John Koenig. In this dictionary you will find a book filled with words invented to name moments in the human condition we commonly experience but for which no word quite captures the essence.

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Galagog, as Koenig defines it, is “the state of being simultaneously entranced and unsettled by the vastness of the cosmos, which makes your deepest concerns feel laughably quaint, yet vanishingly rare.” It’s what we might call awe, but with something extra. It captures not just the grandeur of something bigger than us, but the strange thrill and unease that comes with feeling small.

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Galagog: The state of being simultaneously entranced and unsettled by the vastness of the cosmos, which makes your deepest concerns feel laughably quaint, yet vanishingly rare.

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This feeling whether we name it awe or galagog is something I believe we touch less often now. Not because there’s any less wonder in the world, but because we’ve become too distracted to see it. We trade it away when we look down at our screens, slip in our earbuds, and choose the safe hum of inside spaces over the unpredictability of the outer one. The modern world, in quiet and clever ways, shrinks our awareness of where we are and who we are in it.

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And yet, we are creatures made to reflect. Humans have this extraordinary gift of metacognition, the ability to notice our thoughts, to consider where we stand, and to sense the presence of others. We are built for wonder.

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It’s no surprise, then, that awe is so good for us. Researchers like Dacher Keltner, who study the science of awe, show how encounters with something vast and beyond ourselves quiet the nervous system, widen our view, and deepen our care for one another. Awe pulls us out of the tight spaces of self and opens a window to something more whole, more connected.

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You probably have your own memories of galagog moments. Those still, quiet times when something enormous brushed past you and made you stop. Maybe it was the view from an airplane, looking down at the earth stretching far below. Or walking through the swirl of a city like New York, feeling both surrounded and somehow still separate. In those moments, the grip of worry begins to loosen. The questions that keep us awake soften just a little. We remember we are not the center. And somehow, that smallness doesn’t diminish us. It invites us into the sacredness we already belong to.

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So, here’s the invitation: look up. Stay still a bit longer. Let beauty or mystery catch you by surprise. You don’t need to stand on the edge of the Grand Canyon to feel it. Galagog might happen while waiting for a green light in your car, or paying closer attention to the spring coming alive around us.

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And if you’re longing to find that kind of wonder again, to feel that stillness inside the swirl, a Forte Guide would love to walk with you. Sometimes it’s easier to notice them when someone else is looking for it, too.

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