This is an insightful recognition of how a disaster can rob victims of the things and rituals that used to ground them. And it underscores how survival depends on our ability to bring awareness to the positive, whether that's someone's kindness, the sun offering warmth after a snowstorm, or a lull amid life's stressors. It's a good practice for every day so we are as equipped as we can be when we suffer something calamitous. Thank you for sharing this, Hunter.
With all the world is facing, I've been meditating on this notion quite a lot—that it is the small, meaningful, details of life that really create the texture and nuance that makes us human. Reminding myself to grab hold of those tiny glimmers of hope and acknowledge them.
I think the way forward is in what we can do today while our world is off its axis. We right it again by starting with the small things. The wiping of a foggy mirror and meeting for a coffee.
A beautiful meditation. The everyday moments we overlook, the smells and the sounds we’d never think to miss until they’re gone, the bridge between past and present. In the midst of devastation and heartbreak, your writing—and this piece in particular—remind me of the importance of community and of hope. I needed that.
This is an insightful recognition of how a disaster can rob victims of the things and rituals that used to ground them. And it underscores how survival depends on our ability to bring awareness to the positive, whether that's someone's kindness, the sun offering warmth after a snowstorm, or a lull amid life's stressors. It's a good practice for every day so we are as equipped as we can be when we suffer something calamitous. Thank you for sharing this, Hunter.
With all the world is facing, I've been meditating on this notion quite a lot—that it is the small, meaningful, details of life that really create the texture and nuance that makes us human. Reminding myself to grab hold of those tiny glimmers of hope and acknowledge them.
I think the way forward is in what we can do today while our world is off its axis. We right it again by starting with the small things. The wiping of a foggy mirror and meeting for a coffee.
A beautiful meditation. The everyday moments we overlook, the smells and the sounds we’d never think to miss until they’re gone, the bridge between past and present. In the midst of devastation and heartbreak, your writing—and this piece in particular—remind me of the importance of community and of hope. I needed that.