Today I want to share something that stopped me in my tracks: a glimpse into the life and perspective of Britain’s remarkable centenarian painter, Mr. Anthony Eyton. At 102, he's still exhibiting his art from his home in Brixton. In a recent Instagram post by his daughter, Sarah Eyton (@saraheyton, posted August 13, 2025), the two speak beautifully about the power of awe - how it uplifts, expands, and enriches life.
Eyton’s words struck a chord. Awe isn’t just for mountaintops or thunderous skies. It hides in the everyday, in things we pass by without noticing - even in a bird’s song.
Psychologists describe awe as a self-transcendent emotion. It pulls us out of ourselves and into connection with nature, with others, and with something bigger. It slows time, softens stress, and often opens the door to compassion and creativity.
In short, awe is what happens when something stops you in your tracks and makes you think, “This is bigger than me.”
And Eyton is right. It is life-enhancing. I’m grateful he and Sarah gave that word fresh meaning for me.
Nettles and Quiet Magic
In my work with Nettle Revolution, I often encounter awe. I see it when nettles shift from sting to strength, from leaf to tea, from fibre to fabric. It's a transformation that happens quietly, steadily, and with purpose. Nature at work, patiently powerful.
The Sea’s Gentle Surprise
Returning to Cornwall after a month away from the sea, I headed straight for my beach. Expecting the usual icy welcome, I braced myself. Instead, I felt warmth curling gently around my ankles. The vastness of the sea met me with kindness, not cold. That unexpected softness filled me with wonder and deep gratitude for the privilege of calling this place home.
A Fig’s Hidden Story
Back in my garden, a different kind of awe awaited: a perfectly ripened fig, ready for picking after my trip to London.
Most people don’t know the story a fig tells. Each one depends on a tiny wasp that must crawl through a narrow opening to pollinate the hidden flowers inside. The wasp completes its quiet task, and the fig swells with sweetness. Inside, a secret world blooms in crimson and pink - intricate and unseen.
When I bit into it, sun-warmed, honeyed, and soft, I wasn’t just eating fruit. I was tasting transformation, cooperation, and quiet labour. It was nothing short of divine.
Nettles, Again with Laughter
It’s school holidays, so my grandsons are here, full of wild ideas. They dared me to eat a nettle leaf straight from the stem - not just one, but two fresh leaves. I obliged, of course, filmed gleefully by the youngest (age four), who expected me to yelp in pain, of course I did get stung a little, and my sound effects were well worth their amusement.
What they didn’t know was that I’ve learned a few tricks after years of working with nettles. I used them discreetly and dodged most of the sting. Their giggles were worth it, and the boys were in awe as I ate the stingy leaves!
The Thread
Whether it’s a fig, a nettle, or the sea, awe asks us to pause. It urges us to notice the extraordinary hiding in plain sight.
That’s the heart of Nettle Revolution: staying awake to the small, living miracles around us. They teach us, nourish us, and, if we let them, extend our sense of wonder - and maybe even our lives.
Just ask dear Mr. Eyton.
