How might ethics be related to the kind of transcendental experience I talked about here? Nothing actually follows from wondering at the starry heavens above or coming across a field mouse while mowing. But experiences like this might lead to certain changes in behavior. Perhaps most obviously, if you have a kind of religious experience upon meeting a deer you might then be less inclined to hunt deer for sport. You might even become vegetarian or vegan. Or you might go in some other direction: only ever eating meat that you have killed and butchered yourself, say.
If the moon impresses you, you might support a more active space program, or oppose all space programs, as a Buddhist might be drawn to the Himalayas for religious reasons but oppose the climbing of Everest. More generally, if nature inspires you then you might support conservation more. But all of these are only responses you might have, not ones you need to have if you are to avoid inconsistency. They would be understandable, perhaps even natural, but they are not necessary. And they only go so far.
Another great mystery (source of inspiration or wonder) is life itself. You aren't likely to be struck by this the way you might be by the night sky, but I think it can happen. The children's song "Oats and beans and barley grow" gets at this, I think. The last time I googled the words they didn't come up the way I wanted, I think because some people change them so they make more obvious sense. But it's the paradoxical version that I like, in which the verses describe the process by which beans, etc, grow ("First the farmer takes the seed," and so on) but then the chorus insists that, "Not you nor I nor anyone knows how oats and beans and barley grow." We know what happens, in other words, but not how (i.e. why) it happens. Anyone who farms or gardens can wonder at this phenomenon. Nothing to do with ethics would follow from this, that I can think of, but perhaps it would reduce egoism (because the self seems less significant in the face of life itself taken as a mysterious whole, or just barley itself as a mystery).
It isn't only oats and beans that grow though. There are children too. And raising children can be a source of repeated, though not uninterrupted, amazement at the natural process of growth and the emergence of a new person. People tend to love their children, too. Something similar can happen with students if you get to know them well enough. This love might be more of an occasion for nepotism or narrowly expanded selfishness than anything obviously ethical, but the realization that everyone is someone's daughter or son could lead to more ethical behavior. Hume recommends that we try to be the sort of person we would want our child to marry. It might be better to say that we should, as far as possible, treat other people as if they were our own children, or as we would want other people to treat our children.
How useful is this, though? Obviously not very for people who don't have children. And what I have proposed is not very far from the golden rule, which makes no reference to children and does not involve any sense of wonder. It is also quite vague. But the golden rule only tells you (roughly) what to do. It says nothing about why you should do it. Implicit in it, it seems to me, is a reference to wonder. Each individual is the location of the miracles (the wonders) of life, consciousness, and will (although is will anything but life + consciousness?): act accordingly. That seems to be the idea, or one way of putting it at least. And it might be easier to remember this rule, to keep it alive in one's thinking and acting, if one's sense of wonder is still alive. It seems to need to be refreshed from time to time. Children, animals, and nature, although all have their downsides and limitations, are good for this purpose.