It's the Little Things

Ever have one of those moments when your world starts to shake and suddenly you feel the world spinning beneath your feet and remember that we’re all just milling about on a rock that’s hurtling through space at 67,000 mph? And you're struck by the infinite complexity of the world and feel your consciousness dissolve into the cacophany of the universe? And the world goes black as you stare into the abyss and it stares back at you with the haunting reminder that nothing matters?

Well, I do. Like, all of the time.

I guess I'm what you could call "sensitive". I will be spiritually moved by a good dessert. Any experience more intense than that requires 5-10 business days and a good mushroom trip to process.

Since the escalation of the COVID-19 global pandemic, I've been embraced by an unexpected blanket of calm. It's not that I've been unaffected— it's just hard to have the rug swept out from under me when my feet have never seemed to land on philosophically solid ground in the first place. The only thing that's changed is, well, I don't feel so alone with those feelings anymore.

We're all searching for comfort and learning to find joy in the little things— and discovering new ways to spread it, too. Here's a list of media that has helped me to stay joyful, grounded and connected.

Nothing lights me up inside quite like astronomy. Staring up at the heavens is such a calming meditation on the beautiful absudity of life. Contemplating the endless distances of the universe fills me with appreciation for the interconnected nature of our lives here on Earth.

Astronomers have it pretty easy when it comes to garnering support from the pubic. Who can deny the beauty of nueblae, whose radiant splashes of color illuminate the cosmic canvas. Or the glory of Saturn, photos of which always take my breath away because, well, SATURN. But something about this photograph is particularly captivating in its simplicity.

Taken by NASA's rover Curiosity, the photo stands as a spartan contrast to many magnificent views of Earth captured from space. At a glance, it looks like an ordinary photograph taken on Earth. But then you realize, holy shit, that little dot is our home, and that surface is a foreign planet. And you're struck by just how precious our little home in this corner of the galaxy really is.

Ever watch Mr. Rogers Neighborhood and wonder, “man, if only there were something like this for adults”? Well, wonder no more— your savior has arrived and his name is Rob Bell.

This former preacher gone podcaster is the wise, gentle, and generous parental figure I never had and didn't know I needed. (I mean, I have parents, they're just unfortunately not any of those things.)

He's shown me the magic of grace, compassion, humility and forgiveness. More importantly, I've learned that the worth of a human life is not predicated on accomplishment or achievement. Just to be here is glorious.

He doesn't edit his talks, so you can savor every charming imperfection and mistake. And, of course, he's serving up plenty of wisdom for all of your pandemic-related woes.

Can we all just agree that circus folk are the best part of instagram? (See, I can enjoy things that aren't tinged with existential dread after all.) With these little gems in my life I'm garunteed at least one smile a day. Jorge Petit's Quarantine Project is a charming combo of playfulness and enginuity that has emerged in the wake of shelter-in-place orders. Just when I think they've tried it all, they never fail to delight me.

You can follow them here:

Lifting others up and inspiring them is often much simpler than we make it out to be. Having a positive impact on the world doesn't have to be a grand gesture or the sum of your life's work. In fact, it's often not— joy and inspiration are all around us every day, and can always be spread in the simplest of ways: a lovely smile, a friendly gesture, a warm batch of cookies. The little things add up.

... Before you go, I just had to throw this in here. Everything about this video is deliciously absurd and I unabashedly savor each second of it. If ever the apocalypse needed a theme-song, it surely would be carried by the wretched timbre of a tuneless Otamatone: