There will be people that tell you to stop and look at the moon. They are important.
Read that again.
Not the people who hand you roadmaps or climb the ladder beside you. Not the ones who show up with solutions or strategies or five-year plans. The ones who grab your arm in the middle of an ordinary Tuesday and say look up. The ones who interrupt the noise long enough to remind you that something ancient and luminous has been hanging above you this whole time, waiting to be noticed.
These people are rare. And we don’t always recognize them for what they are.
We live in a world that rewards productivity, momentum, output. We are trained to move forward, eyes level, always forward. And so when someone slows us down, we sometimes mistake it for distraction. We sometimes mistake the gift for an interruption.
But the moon-pointers are doing something that cannot be automated, cannot be scheduled, and cannot be replicated by anyone who hasn’t learned to see the world through a particular kind of wonder. They carry a lens. A quiet, unshakeable belief that beauty is not a reward you earn after the work is done. It is the work. It is woven into the fabric of being alive, and it deserves your full attention, right now, in the middle of everything.
They keep you sane in a way that logic never quite can. Not because they solve your problems, but because they remind you that you are a person standing on a living planet under an enormous sky, and that has always been enough to change the quality of a moment.
Hold onto these people. Tell them they matter. They are not a footnote in your story. They are often the reason the story felt worth living.
Some people teach you how to move faster. Moon people teach you why any of this is worth slowing down for.
That is not a small thing. That is everything.
0 Comments