The Shimmer of Perspective

Lately, I’ve found myself surrounded by winged visitors — butterflies drifting in the sunlight, hummingbirds darting with impossible speed, and most recently, dragonflies floating into my path - I almost feel like a Disney character surrounded by these tiny flying creatures. 

At first, I chuckled, thinking they must like my Magnolia perfume, but then it struck me: maybe these small encounters are gentle reminders on our lens to the world. 

Walk with me for a moment and let me share what I mean here.

The Trio of Winged Messengers

Each of these creatures seems to carry their own wisdom, significance, and symbolism:

  • Butterflies remind us that transformation is possible — that change can be graceful, even beautiful.
  • Hummingbirds teach us joy and precision — that the sweetness of life is often found in the smallest details.
  • Dragonflies invite us to pierce illusion and explore new ways of seeing.

Together, they’ve become a quiet trio emerging in my days, nudging me to notice more, pause more, and shift my perspective when life feels too rigid, complicated, confusing, or narrow.


Dragonflies as Teachers

Dragonflies have become particularly interesting to me, as I don’t recall ever seeing them float through my neighborhood until just recently. What fascinates me most is how they shimmer. Their wings refract the light, so depending on your angle, they can look entirely different — translucent, iridescent, or flashing with color.


That play of illusion and truth feels like a lesson in itself: perspective changes everything. 


What seems obvious in one light may reveal a completely different truth in another. How often do we take what we see at face value, when a shift in angle might reveal something different, missing, or completely new?


Perspective as a Practice

It connected me back to a book I recently read, The Art of Happiness, in which the Dalai Lama reflects on how changing perspective can alter our experience more than changing circumstances ever could. Whether it’s a stressful day, a difficult conversation, or a season of uncertainty, sometimes the invitation is not to push harder but to tilt our view. 


To ask: What else might be true here? What’s the shimmer I haven’t seen yet?


Closing Thought

The next time you notice a butterfly, a hummingbird, or a dragonfly, let it be more than a passing glance. Let it be a gentle reminder: the way we see the world shapes the way we live in it. And sometimes, all it takes is a shift in perspective to discover beauty, truth, opportunity, or possibility that was there all along — waiting for us to see it with a fresh lens.

When the World Feels Heavy, Compassion is Key

Some news catches us, and sometimes it shakes us to the core. After the tragic violence of yesterday — and considering that today marks the 24th anniversary of September 11 — the world feels heavy.

Violence in public spaces, harm done to people (even those we may disagree with) lands heavy in the heart. When the headlines hit, people feel a mix of emotions: shock, anger, grief, even numbness. 


And it’s easy to lose sight of something simple and profound: behind every opinion, every role, every headline, there’s a human being.


Tragedy reminds us how connected we really are. What one person experiences ripples through families, communities, and, in some quiet way, all of us. None of us stands apart from that web.


While we can’t undo every act of harm, we do hold the power of how we respond. We shape the culture around us in a thousand small ways: in how we speak to people we disagree with, in the tone of an online post, in how we listen, in how we teach kids to see one another as whole people. Compassion isn’t weakness; it’s strength aimed at healing.


As I think about yesterday — and the conversations emerging today about democracy, violence, politics, and gun rights — I want to be clear: this isn’t about agreeing with every opinion or cause. It’s about caring for people and refusing to let harm define how we treat one another.


Maybe, underneath it all, this is about something deeper: our shared humanity.


Perhaps this is an opportunity for a turning point — in how we treat one another, how we express and hear viewpoints with empathy, how we connect, and how we bring compassion, kindness, and heart into our everyday moments.

And not because tragedy is ever “meant to be,” but because what happens next is still unwritten — and it’s up to us to build better possibilities for tomorrow.


I also understand that some people need to grieve and search for answers after tragedy — that’s valid and necessary. For me, I tend to look ahead. I can’t change what has already happened (though I wish no one would ever be harmed by violence), but I can ask how we take these moments and learn from them, turning tragedy into resolve to build something better.


How we respond to and engage with each other matters. Tragedy and violence will never make sense, but they can call us toward better ways of being — if we let them. They can become catalysts for change, strengthening us as we step into the future together.

We can be gentler with one another.
We can pause before reacting.
We can soften the sharp edges of hate.
We can choose empathy over escalation, connection over contempt, heart over harm.


Moments like these invite us to shift: for humanity, for our communities, for how we speak, listen, and lead. Not because loss is ever justified, but because what happens next is still unwritten.


So as we move through our days, let's speak with more care, listen with more patience, judge more slowly, be kinder with our words. We can’t fix everything at once, but one conversation, one choice, one act of kindness at a time, we can tilt the future toward compassion and build a better tomorrow.

Teen Slang Meets Cosmic Truth: "6-7" = 42

Lately, teenagers — especially in the middle school to early high school range — have latched onto a random piece of slang: “6-7.” They say it everywhere: in the halls, at practice, at home.

And heaven forbid those numbers appear on a sign — the chant begins: “6-7! 6-7! 6-7!”

The funny part? It means absolutely nothing.

At least, not in their world.

They picked this up from a rap and just keep repeating it.


But here is where I’m chuckling…maybe there’s meaning behind the numbers. Or maybe the universe is just having a good laugh. Because you know what the math equates to, right? 6 × 7 = 42.


And if you have read the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Universe, then you know that 42 is the answer to life, the universe, and everything.


So maybe the kids are onto something after all. Maybe their nonsense has more truth hidden inside it than they realize. Maybe “6-7” is both hilarious and cosmic.


My Slang Game

Now, anyone who knows me knows I keep up on the evolving slang. My kids roll their eyes, my niece applauds, and every once in a while, I drop a “low-key fire” at just the right moment. But 6-7? I couldn’t quite get behind it. It just seemed… well, nonsense.


Well, that is, until this 42-realization: maybe nonsense isn’t so random. Maybe the universe has been in on the joke all along. These kids might think they’re just chanting numbers for fun, but unknowingly? They’re cracking the code. What are the odds that this silly little chant just happens to equal 42 — the ultimate answer? The universe has a sense of humor. And I think it’s chuckling at this one.


So next time I hear “6-7”, I am going to shout “42!”


There is Magic in the Mundane

So let this be a great reminder: meaning can show up in the most unexpected places. 

A silly chant. A math equation. A cosmic connection hiding in plain sight.

Sometimes, it’s just nonsense. Sometimes, it’s just math. And sometimes, it’s a breadcrumb — a wink from the universe reminding us not to take life (or slang) too seriously.

Redefining Success: From Achievement to Meaning

At back-to-school night this week, I heard a lot about the pressure high-achieving students are under: AP exams, heavy grading scales, advanced courses layering on AI, and more. 

And it made me pause.


Are we measuring success in a way that truly serves these kids? Or are we pushing them harder as they chase nearly impossible college admissions standards? In the process, they’re left without room to breathe — and risk burning out before they even begin.


The Bigger Picture

We live in a world that praises high achievement.
Gold stars, high GPAs, varsity letters, leadership roles — the résumé is built early, and the pressure starts young. For some kids, achievement feels like oxygen: necessary, expected, never-ending.

But here’s the hard truth: society’s obsession with achievement isn’t always helping these kids. In fact, it may be doing the opposite.


High-achieving students are under enormous pressure — to perform, to stand out, to constantly prove themselves. And while discipline and drive are valuable, the cost is often joy, relationships, and mental well-being.

Yes, grades matter.
Hard work matters.
College applications matter.
But they are not the whole story.


Life isn’t only about the future you’re striving for — it’s about the present you’re living in. Relationships, joy, laughter, curiosity, rest, and even mistakes are equally important. They shape who we are in ways no transcript can capture.


A calculus quiz doesn’t define a future. But how we treat one another, how we handle failure, and how we care for ourselves when we are tired — those ripple through life in ways that matter far beyond admissions decisions.


Success Never Feels Like Enough

Here’s the cycle: achieve, and the bar moves higher. Success, instead of celebrated, becomes the new baseline.


It doesn’t just happen with kids. Look at the stock market. Nvidia, for example, posts record-breaking earnings, exceeds expectations, and leads innovation in AI and quantum computing. And yet, Wall Street still punishes them for not delivering “more than more.”


It’s the same cycle we put on high-achieving kids: score high, lead, participate, achieve — and instead of celebrating, society moves the bar higher. “Great job. Now do better. Do more.”


The result? Exhaustion. Discouragement. A sense that nothing is ever enough. Pushing harder.


The College Irony

The irony deepens when these students actually make it to college.

The very system that pushed them to over-perform often won’t accept them. And for the ones who do get in, colleges scramble to provide extensive support for burnout, anxiety, stress, and even basic life skills.

It’s not that these kids aren’t capable. They’re brilliant, driven, and resilient. But by the time they arrive, they’re depleted.


They’ve been trained to chase scores, not meaning.
Conditioned to climb, but not to rest.
Asked to prove their worth, instead of cultivating it.


The result is a mismatch of colleges’ own making. While higher education is vital, it needs to evolve — not with flashy new programs, but with a deeper focus on purpose. The real task isn’t just preparing young people for careers. It’s preparing them for meaningful, balanced lives that equip them to contribute meaningfully to the world.


Redefining Success

What if success wasn’t just about grades, test scores, or achievements stacked like trophies?

What if success also meant:

  • Building strong relationships.
  • Focusing energy where it fuels.
  • Leaning into areas of strength.
  • Learning how to rest and recharge.
  • Practicing joy and curiosity.
  • Growing resilience through balance, not burnout.
  • Finding purpose and creating positive impact.

Because the truth is, one test won’t make or break a future.
One missed opportunity won’t erase a lifetime of potential.
The universe has a way of aligning paths when we show up with effort, openness, and trust. Sometimes the path to success isn’t what we expected — but maybe it’s the better one. And this is what we need to prepare these students for: defining their own success.


A New Measure

Maybe it’s time to change the conversation — with kids, with parents, with schools, with society.
Reward success, yes.
Encourage excellence, yes.
But not at the expense of meaning.

Because the kids we’re raising are not machines to optimize.
They’re human beings.
And what they need more than perfection is permission: to breathe, to fail, to laugh, to rest, and to live fully.

That’s where real success is found.
That’s what makes life meaningful.
And that’s what will prepare them — not just for college, but for the future.


In the End

At the end of the day, life isn’t about collecting achievements. It’s about creating meaning and making a positive impact.

This is built in the everyday — in the balance between striving and being, between discipline and delight.

When we hold both — the work and the wonder — success becomes more than achievement.
It becomes fulfillment.


So to the high achievers out there: stress less. No matter where your path takes you, you will contribute more to this world than you can ever imagine or see. Don’t strive to do it all — strive to be your best self. You will land where you’re meant to, for the impact you’re intended to make.


Because worth was never in the numbers.
It has always lived in who we are becoming — and in the meaning we create and the impact we leave along the way.

Start with Trust and Extend Grace

Most of the time, what we call “conflict” is really just a difference in style. Some of us are direct, others are sensitive. Some put everything out on the table, others keep things close.

Neither is right or wrong — they’re simply different ways of being human.


The challenge comes when those styles collide. A blunt comment can feel like a sting. A soft delivery can be mistaken for weakness. And suddenly, the focus shifts from solving the issue at hand to wrestling with how it was said. 


But maybe the problem isn’t conflict at all. Maybe it’s just style.


The Hidden Factor

And here’s the other piece: life is hard sometimes.
People carry things we can’t always see.
Some overshare, others undershare, but most are carrying more than shows on the surface.

When we bump into each other — in meetings, in stores, at street lights, at schools, at Starbucks, wherever life happens — those invisible loads shape how we give and receive words.


That’s why it matters that we start from trust and extend grace.

Trust grounds us so we don’t default to assuming the worst.

Grace fills the space between different styles.
It allows us to hear directness without judgment.
It allows us to feel sensitivity without dismissal.

And when we bring them together, something shifts. 

The conversation opens. 

The room holds more possibility. 

People can speak openly and frankly, but also feel freely. 


Grace and trust don’t just make our interactions softer — they make them stronger, reminding us that every exchange is layered with more than we see, and with more at stake than simply being right or making our point.


Finding the Balance

But I’m not saying we should go overboard on grace. 

This isn’t about excusing poor behavior or avoiding hard conversations. It’s about erring on the side of humanity.

Because too much grace can tip the other way. 

To all my fellow Seinfeld fans out there, I can’t resist borrowing from the episode when Mr. Pitt tells Elaine she has grace, and as they discuss it, he tells her, “you don’t want to have too much grace… then you won’t be able to stand.”


It makes me laugh every time — one because it’s funny, and two because it’s true.

Grace without grounding becomes passivity.
Directness without grace becomes sharpness.
The sweet spot is in the balance: kindness steady enough to be real, curiosity open enough to listen, and trust strong enough to hold space when styles clash.


A Shift in Lens

What if we stopped thinking of these moments as conflicts to win or moments of proving rightness, and started seeing them as styles to balance?

Being right at all costs often comes with hidden costs — bruised relationships, silenced voices, or solutions that feel more like victories than progress. 

The real strength isn’t in winning the point; it’s in creating a space where different styles add up to better outcomes.

And maybe that’s the deeper lesson: in the game of life, giving grace is the real win.

What if we assumed differences are natural, and our task is to bring grace and trust to the mix — enough to steady the interaction, but not so much that we lose our footing?

Because here’s the bigger truth: how we treat one another ripples.
It moves outward into the world and circles back into ourselves.
We’re not just solving problems when we navigate differences — we’re shaping the atmosphere we all live in.


In the End

Starting from trust and leading with grace doesn’t make us perfect — it makes us human together. It allows us to stand, steady in our own style, open enough to make space for each other, and willing to adjust when our way of showing up doesn’t meet the moment.


Because at its core, grace isn’t weakness — it’s strength that knows when to bend, like quantum reality itself: fluid, connected, and full of possibility.