Still, Look Up

Hi Friend!

There’s a lot right now that begs for our attention, our outrage, our fear, the division. And while staying informed matters, so does staying human. This issue is a gentle reminder that noticing beauty isn’t turning away from reality, it’s anchoring ourselves within it. If the world feels heavy, let this be permission to pause, look up, and remember that you are made of more than what’s breaking.

I believe in you, Tim

It can feel almost irresponsible to pause right now.

To stop. To Slow. To look up at the stars. To notice the way trees still reach for the light. To stand quietly in front of mountains that don’t care about headlines. To let the ocean remind you that something older, deeper, and steadier still exists.

When the world feels like it’s burning, politically, socially, emotionally, wonder can feel foolish. Indulgent. Like rearranging flowers while everything else is on fire. Like mowing the lawn as a forest fire burns 360 degrees around you.

And yet.

Here’s the quiet truth no one tells us loudly enough: Holding wonder is not denial. It’s resistance.

The world has betrayed many of us. Systems fail. People disappoint. Promises fracture. History repeats itself with alarming enthusiasm. It’s understandable to armor up, to stay tense, to believe that softness is a liability.

But as much as we wish it was, beauty is never meant to be an escape hatch. It’s an anchor.

Wonder doesn’t erase tragedy, but it reminds us that tragedy isn’t the whole story. That we are not made solely of grief, outrage, or survival instincts. We contain more than the worst things we’ve endured.

Beauty isn’t just sitting there dumb. It’s ancient. It’s seen so much ugly all around it.

The stars have witnessed worse than this. Trees have grown back after devastation. Mountains have outlasted empires. Oceans have held both wreckage and rebirth.

And somehow, so have we. As much as it may have hurt… So. Have. We.

Pausing to marvel isn’t quitting the fight, it’s remembering why we fight at all. It reconnects us to something fundamental, something that existed before the noise and will exist long after it fades.

Beauty is where we come from. And when everything feels unsteady, it’s where we can return.

So if today you find yourself staring at the sky a little longer than usual, or running your hand along a tree trunk like it knows something you don’t, good. And actually not “if”, let’s just make sure you find yourself staring a little longer, feeling a little more. because it’s not foolish. It’s human.

And right now, being human might be the bravest thing we can do.

What we do today is what matters most.

Not yesterday, no matter how sideways, backwards, or upside down it went.
Not tomorrow, no matter how much we’re counting on it, hoping for it, or excited about it.

Each morning, in quiet and unremarkable ways, we are born again. You wake up with the chance to begin…… again. To build…… again. To choose forward motion……. again. Even if yesterday felt like slipping backwards. Even if progress looked more like survival than momentum. Today is your chance.

Starting over doesn’t require a clean slate. It only requires a present moment.

And here’s the part we tend to avoid: while we are gifted this daily renewal, we are not promised the next one. Tomorrow is hopeful—but it isn’t guaranteed. That’s not meant to scare you. It’s meant to wake you up.

Today is the place where life actually happens.
Today is where kindness counts.
Today is where courage shows up—quietly, imperfectly.
Today is where you get to live the life you keep postponing.

So say the thing.
Take the step.
Breathe deeper.
Hold wonder longer.
Move—even if it’s just an inch.

If this is the day you have, let it be enough.
Let it be honest.
Let it be lived.

Because today—right here—is the point.

Where have I been denying myself moments of wonder and magic because the world feels too heavy, and what small act of noticing beauty could I allow back into my life this week?

The world is loud with breaking things,
sirens, screens, unfinished fires.
It asks us to stay braced,
to never unclench our fists.

Still, the stars show up.
Still, trees practice patience.
Still, mountains refuse urgency
and oceans keep breathing.

We are told this is foolish
to look, to feel, to soften.
But wonder is not surrender.
It is remembrance.

We were born of beauty,
not despite the chaos,
but alongside it.

And even now,
especially now,
you are allowed to look up.