Welcome to the first installment of a series dedicated to walking tips and inspiration. This time we’re exploring “awe walks,” outdoor rambles that can cultivate a sense of amazement. Sharing his insights was Dacher Keltner, a University of California, Berkeley, psychology professor and the author of “Awe: The New Science of Everyday Wonder and How It Can Transform Your Life.”

Awe, Keltner explained, is that complex emotion we experience when encountering something so vast that our sense of self recedes. It can be positive or negative (like the feelings that come from witnessing violence), but the awe that feels good is the type found in moments of wonder and humility.

Many people associate awe with places like the Grand Canyon, he said, but some feel it in response to common things like a nighttime sky blazing with stars. In short: Awe is more accessible than you might think.

And research suggests it’s good for your health, too. Awe can help calm the nervous system, reduce inflammation and foster a sense of community (even if you experience it alone). People who took awe walks, one study found, felt more upbeat and hopeful than walkers who did not.

These walks also have restorative benefits, said Keltner, who has seen the positive effects firsthand. When his daughter was younger, she had anxiety and became preoccupied with dying, he said. So they began to take nightly awe walks to a giant cedar tree in their neighborhood. They touched the tree’s bark and talked about the cycle of life. As months passed, this ritual connected them to nature and each other, Keltner said. His daughter went from being “freaked out about dying” to getting “a sense of ‘this is just part of life.’”

“An awe walk can be a healing ritual,” he said. “Twelve years later I still walk to touch that tree.”

Here’s how to try it.

Decide on a place

You can pick somewhere you’ve never been, Keltner said, adding that you’re more likely to feel awe in an environment where sights and sounds are unfamiliar — a local park or trail you’ve never visited, a new neighborhood in your city, a body of water. Or you can travel to a familiar spot and imagine seeing it for the first time.

No matter where you go, the fleeting beauty of a dawn sky or sunset has been shown to cultivate awe.

Once you’ve arrived at your spot, give yourself at least 20 minutes of uninterrupted time. If you can, turn off your phone. Take a few deep breaths “to shift out of our hyper task-focused mind,” he said. Breathe in for four counts, hold for four, breathe out for six. Do this for a few minutes. Then start walking.

Pay attention

Heading outside hoping to be awed can seem daunting, but try not to pressure yourself. Just be open, he said.

Take in the sights, sounds and scents that usually escape your awareness but have the potential to raise goose bumps. When something catches your attention, “stop and pause and feel,” Keltner said.

Sense the wind on your face. Tune in to the sounds of what Rachel Carson, author of “Silent Spring,” once called the “living music” of “insect orchestras.”

Start small

When you’re on your walk, get in the habit of pausing and homing in on a detail — a ripple on a lake, an ant moving industriously through the grass — then, slowly expand your field of vision. The shift in focus to vastness can sometimes inspire awe, Keltner said.

Or pan from the ground to the sky. (Until I tried this, I’d never noticed how many rooftops in my town had statues and carvings of animals, faces and gargoyles.)

This can apply to people, too. If you’re in a crowd, start with one person and zoom out to take in the whole system of human activity.

I’m an early riser, so I’ve started taking awe walks at dawn. I watch the sky change and have seen a small colony of bees wake up and start to work. I even discovered a nest of baby robins, lodged snugly in a juniper bush. Now I walk there every morning and listen to their faint, reedy chirping.

Seeing the nest every day sustains me, somehow. I feel a twinge that the robins will leave soon. Until I find another wondrous sight, I’ll keep walking — phone stashed, eyes and ears open.