On The Fly

In this episode, Why We Need Awe More Than Ever Yesterday morning, I slipped into the cool stillness of my backyard before dawn. The air was crisp, the silence deep—broken only by the faint rustling of leaves and the familiar calls of birds waking early. Then I looked up. A thin crescent moon hung low in the east, with Venus just above it like a shining jewel. The sky was clear and full of stars, and for a moment, I felt something I hadn’t in a long time: Awe! For thousands of years, the heavens have carried on their steady dance, untouched by human noise. No ruler, no election, no breaking news has ever changed their rhythm. And yet here I was, tempted to reach for my phone—to trade the eternal for the urgent. Instead, I stayed. I watched the moonrise, the sky slowly lighten, and the world around me stir. Ducks passed overhead in a loose V, hummingbirds zipped past to visit their feeder, pausing mid-air as if curious about me sitting so still. Little by little, the static in my mind f...

In this episode, Where Beauty Lives . . .   Have you seen God in a shimmer of light? In a shadow that dances or stars in the night? Not tucked in a book or perched in the sky, But right in the dazzle that slips past your eye. In puddles and pinecones, in pebbles and air, In the whoosh of the wind or the curl of your hair — God isn’t hiding on some distant shelf, But laughing and leaping and being itself. Not grumpy or gloomy or watching you frown, But spinning the world in a marvelous gown! In bluebirds and brushstrokes, in fireflies' glow, In the hush of a moment that asks you to slow. So don’t wait for thunder or tablets or signs — Just follow the flicker that shivers the pines. Ask questions, see colors, be curious too, And beauty — beauty—will whisper to you: "I’m here in the quiet, I’m here in the gleam, I’m here in the in-between spaces you dream. So soften your eyes and open your heart — That’s where the seeing of seeing will start."