Resonance as an Antidote to Social Acceleration

A key to meaning in a world that won't slow down

Last summer, Kate and I drove to Santa Fe National Forest for a backpacking trip. Part of the trail we took led us to Lake Katherine, a pristine mountain lake 11,745 feet above sea level.

When we made it up to the lake, we sat on the rocks along its shore, took off our packs, and munched on trail mix.

Kate got up to walk around the lake while she mentally composed a Sunday Fireside that was pinging in her head (it turned out well). I stayed behind to continue eating trail mix.

While I was chewing on a handful of nuts and M&Ms, I stared at the mountain peak that towered over the clear waters of this alpine lake. The sky was blue, with a few big clouds in the sky.

Then, out of nowhere, I had this weird feeling that the mountain peak was speaking to me. No, I didn't hear a literal voice coming from the mountain. Not even a whisper, like the boy prophet Samuel. It was just this weird, uncanny sensation that the mountain peak and I were talking.

What did the mountain "say" to me?

Well, in my head, it sounded something like, "I was here millions of years before you were, and I'll still be here millions of years after you're gone."

I remember feeling oddly comforted by this declaration from the mountain peak. It was a good reminder not to take my petty, egotistical worries so seriously. In geological time, they were pretty darn insignificant.

But this sense of insignificance the mountain gave me didn't make me feel nihilistic, like nothing I do matters. It did the opposite. I felt humbly empowered. I'm only here a short while, so I might as well make the most of this life while I'm here.

This weird connection with the mountain lasted just a few seconds. As quickly as the feeling came on, it disappeared. But it felt like several minutes had passed.

I emptied the remaining trail mix into my mouth and got up to look for Kate so we could resume our hike.

I've had other moments like this in my life, moments where I felt like I was deeply connecting with the world, another person, or God.

These kinds of connective experiences typically come out of nowhere; they're not planned. And when you have them, no matter how brief they last, you feel transformed by the encounter.

The sociologist Hartmut Rosa has a name for this type of experience. He calls it resonance.

And according to Rosa, resonance is the antidote to social acceleration.