Transcendence is a word that comes from the Latin transcendere, meaning “to climb beyond” or “to rise above.” Transcendence is the ability to expand our perception beyond the self and to recognize that we are part of something far greater.
In spiritual traditions, transcendence is often associated with the divine as it comes in moments of deep connection that lift us beyond our individual concerns into something sacred. It is the thread that runs through acts of profound love. It is the same drive that led our ancestors to look up at the stars and wonder.
Zooming out to see the big picture, our sun is just one among an estimated 100 to 400 billion stars in the Milky Way galaxy. Widening the lens even more, the Milky Way is just one of up to 2 trillion galaxies in the observable universe, each containing billions of stars and countless planets. Somewhere, right this minute, galaxies are colliding, stars are igniting, and black holes are pulling entire worlds into their mysterious depths. Against this backdrop, the concerns that so often consume us, like a missed deadline or a disappointing meeting, shrink to insignificance.
Paradoxically, this perspective doesn’t diminish us. In Pale Blue Dot, a book by the famous astronomer Carl Sagan inspired by a photograph of our planet taken by the Voyager 1 spacecraft from six billion kilometers away, the author broadens our perspective.
“Look again at that dot. That’s here. That’s home. That’s us. On it, everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives.
The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines… every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor, explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every ‘superstar,’ every ‘supreme leader,’ every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there—on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.”
Our perceived smallness is not a limitation but a testament to the wonder of being. To put it simply, the sheer improbability of our lives makes our existence extraordinary. In recognizing the power of our experiences, we step beyond the fleeting concerns of the moment into something far greater. To thrive, to think, to feel, and to love are not mundane acts. They are cosmic privileges.
Our ancestors painted cave walls with pictures of animals, humans, and abstract symbols. It is possible that these ancient images were an early attempt to communicate with forces beyond their physical world. Some people believe they were stories meant to be passed down, a way of reaching across generations. Others suggest they were efforts to connect with the spiritual realm, to seek favor from animal spirits, or to honor the mysteries of life and death.
As humanity evolved, this yearning for transcendence became more sophisticated. The pyramids of Egypt are monumental expressions of humanity’s desire to touch the divine. Thousands of miles away, the builders of Cambodia’s Angkor Wat mirrored the cosmos in stone to bring together earthly and celestial realms. Light streaming through stained glass in Europe’s cathedrals reminded worshippers of the infinite divine.
This yearning for the infinite plays out in everyday life. A parent soothing a child after a nightmare, a teacher sparking curiosity in a reluctant student, or a plumber cleaning out someone’s blocked pipes can also be expressions of a purpose greater than the self. Transcendence invites us to reach beyond our own needs to build a world that will endure beyond us.
Across cultures and throughout history, people have reached for the ineffable in countless ways. Some describe brief glimpses into a greater reality through moments of awe, like standing before a mountain range or hearing music that stirs something. Psychologist Dacher Keltner describes awe as an emotion that shifts our focus outward and makes us feel connected to something vast beyond ourselves. Studies suggest that awe can improve well-being and even reduce inflammation in the body.
Transcendence also finds us in other ways. While some speak of synchronicity as unexpected alignments that feel too meaningful to ignore, others experience transcendence as sudden moments of clarity or wisdom that arrive from somewhere beyond the self. There are also people who sense an unseen presence that feels real, even if it cannot be explained. Mystics from different cultures have written about moments when the boundaries between the self and the universe seem to dissolve and are replaced by a feeling of profound unity and peace.
Although transcendental experiences may unfold spontaneously, they are also accessible through intentional practices like meditation, breathwork, or the use of psychedelics, which can open a different kind of doorway into expanded states of awareness. Even stories of sensing a loved one after death or awakening from a near-death experience suggest that the longing to connect with something more continues beyond loss. I’ve brushed against that mystery many times, but one moment stands out. When I turned twenty-seven, the lower back and sciatic pain from an old rugby injury became almost unbearable. I went to see a doctor, and three weeks later, I found myself face down in the operating room of a hospital in Caracas. While I was under anesthesia, something went wrong, and my lungs collapsed. My mother and my wife Adriana were summoned into the hospital boardroom, where they found themselves sitting across from a row of surgeons dressed in pale green gowns and suited lawyers. They were told I was unresponsive in the ICU. No one could say I would wake up or if my brain had been damaged.
I don’t remember anything after the anesthetist’s countdown. The next thing I heard was my mother’s voice cutting through the darkness. “Jona,” she said in a resolute tone, “Adri and I are here, waiting for you as soon as you’re ready to wake up.” Immediately, I began coughing and tried to pull the breathing tube from my throat. Alarms blared, and nurses rushed in. I had no idea where I was.
That night, the sterile silence of the hospital was anything but peaceful. Machines hummed, monitors beeped, and the hallways were filled with voices. Sometime after midnight, I asked one of the nurses if she could help me to the bathroom. As we made our way slowly through the ICU, she walked me past a long row of cubicles where I saw middle-aged men lying unconscious in hospital beds. “You see them?” she said, pointing at the patients. “Most of them suffered heart attacks. They spent the first half of their lives chasing success. Now they’ll spend the second half using it to try to buy their health back.”
Coming that close to the edge of life revealed to me that there is far more to this existence than chasing success.
