This is beautiful, Alex. Especially this part: "Every day we make dozens of tiny choices. Someone asks for help and we either harden or soften. A conversation happens and we either perform or tell the truth. We either reach for the familiar excuse or risk something real.
These aren't grand gestures. Most people won't notice. But they accumulate.
Culture rarely shifts by decree. It shifts by interruptions of our automatic responses."
I needed to read that. Your words strengthen me today.
My kids and I made care kits for the unhoused in our community almost two months ago, and last weekend, we were in the van as a family. When Ben stopped at this busy intersection, I reminded him of the care kit and he rolled down the window and handed it to the man with the cardboard sign. My kids were totally silent, and they didn't speak the rest of the way home. I know they absorbed what happened, because they got to witness the fruits of their actions. They got to SEE the person who benefited from those bags they assembled with such care. That means something.
I think that is what will save me today, because I am feeling very low about myself and my life and my creative work that is going nowhere fast. Thank you for reminding me that even if all I leave behind in my life is some good inside my children that they can then pass on to the world they inherit, then I've done something right. That helps me.
Thank you for reading and sharing my friend. Your work matters. Our collective work matters. These little things, even if they don't feel like that, have the power to shape societies too, because it is what gives us the "feel" of our culture and society. What we do in these little moments matter.
Your children absorbed that moment. So did you. 🩵 What a beautiful and powerful moment.
Your creative work does the same, and on an even grander scale. You reach thousands each month with beautiful stories and wisdom. That is a beautiful, important thing.
Thanks for the perspective shift, Alex. I get lost in the sea of numbers sometimes, even worse, the crushing comparison game. I appreciate this. It’s kind of you to say that. Also—how cool is it that you wrote an essay about this, and the one I published last week was about the care kits my kids and I made for the homeless in our community?
Jeannie, this phrase really got to me today, "because I am feeling very low about myself and my life and my creative work that is going nowhere fast."
It is hard when you are in the thick of parenting young children, advocating for a child with a disability, and not having the earning power you would like to have.
I see this, I feel this, I lived this twenty to forty years ago.
It's challenging. Because what you maybe don't see are outcomes. Not yet.
But you will, my dear... you will.
Your children are receiving such an amazing gift from who you are in the world.❤️
I'm with you on the bacon...it's gotta be crispy. And lettuce on burgers is always lifeless and flimsy and slippery.
Every Saturday, as I drive home from dog training class, I pass the same woman on the same corner with the same sign. She just holds the sign and stares lifelessly off into the distance. I've tried smiling at her. One time I even tried giving her money but she didn't even notice me. She looked like a living ghost. My heart hurts every time I see her.
This week, across the intersection was a man. He had a similar cardboard sign, but the opposite face. He was angry. Ranting and raving. Pumping the air with his fist. Face red and voice brash. I was scared he was going to attack my car as I waited at the red light.
all the while, the woman stared lifelessly, as if he wasn't there at all. as if nothing was there, not even her.
I never know what to do when I come to this intersection, especially since there was that one time I tried to give her money and she didn't notice me.
what I do know is that the empathy I feel reminds me of how alive my own life really is.
Yes, empathy is certainly something that helps remind us of how alive we genuinely are. What a story and a set of characters to run into, especially the new one. It's hard to know what to do, and money isn't always the right approach (and often isn't). But noticing and not extending invisibility is often the first step. Allowing people to be human, as you did, was more than enough. Allowing yourself to connect, and even allow yourself to be in touch with your aliveness in response? Beautiful. So many people don't even allow themselves to see what is around them anymore.
A really good story serves as an invitation, expanding my mind and often challenging the way I think.
And then there are the great stories—ones such as this. The ones that linger long after I’ve hit the “heart” button and closed my laptop. Thank you for this lasting invitation to look beyond my inner thoughts and consider, too, my outer actions and what kind of footprints I hope to leave in this world. I’ll now think of these opportunities as “ladybug moments.” Moments where I can do my small part to make another human feel seen and welcome in this world that belongs to all of us. 🐞
Hi Jennifer. Wow! What a truly beautiful comment that touched me.
Our outer actions have tremendous potential to change the world, even in small, "ladybug moment" ways. The world does belong to all of us. And if we can all channel THAT type of energy, imagine what kind of world we could create.
I’m so grateful you’re here, holding space for these deep, connected invitations 🩵. Thank you for being here, my friend.
You touched on something I struggle with whenever I’m in the city. As a woman, I don’t feel safe when strangers approach me. My husband came up with a solution. For those who ask for help on the streets-I carry gift cards to Dunkin Donuts. This way it’s a quick exchange for someone like me whose nervous system kicks up in these circumstances.
Thank you for being so kind to the milkshake loving man and for showing us it’s worthwhile to break out of our automatic patterns.
Oh my friend, that really resonates with me. Thank you for sharing such a thoughtful and practical way you’ve found to protect your safety while still offering kindness. Carrying those Dunkin Donuts gift cards as a gentle, safe exchange is so beautiful; it shows how creative love can be even when our nervous systems are on high alert. I’m so grateful your husband’s idea supports you in those moments that feel uncertain. Thank you for being here, and sharing such a beautiful (and practical) idea. 🩵
Alex - What sticks out for me is how you frame the “almost” moments, the little gaps where we either default to disconnection or let something else happen. The way you tie the encounter with the man, the laughter over bacon, and even the ladybug together into one thread of aliveness makes it clear that these aren’t small things at all. They’re the places where culture and personal meaning come together.
Your line about “the world we’re walking through is the world we’re creating” stands out as it names what most of us feel but don’t always slow down to notice.
I love how you noticed the laughter over bacon and the ladybug, too; those little sparks of aliveness often get overlooked, but they hold so much power.
We get to slow down and honor that truth: the world we’re walking through is indeed the world we’re creating. You’ve captured that tenderness and awareness so well, and I’m so grateful you’re here to hold this space with me 🩵.
"Small acts. Ordinary encounters. The foundation of everything we claim we want to change." Yes! Every choice we make matters! We have the opportunity every single day to create a better world!
Yes, my friend, you’ve captured something so profound here 🩵 “Small acts. Ordinary encounters.”
It continues to resonate with me because sometimes the weight of wanting to change the world feels overwhelming, but when we remember it’s in those everyday moments, it becomes possible—and even beautiful. We get to choose kindness, presence, and love every single day, and that ripple becomes something greater than we can see right now. Thank you for being here, my friend. 🩵
Thank you for being here and sharing this quote, my friend 🩵
I love this part and the tension between feeling overwhelmed by all the “I can’t” moments and recognizing the power we actually hold in those tiny microstructures of choice. Sometimes those small, daily decisions feel so subtle, yet they ripple out in ways we don’t always see right away. You deserve to feel both seen in your struggle and encouraged in your agency. We get to hold that paradox together, and I’m so grateful you’re here reflecting on it with me. 🩵
Thank you, Julie, for being here. 🩵 We always have choices. I believe we can make a positive impact, even in small ways, on the world. And it can make a difference. Maybe it is naive. But, maybe it is not. 🩵
Lot of fear, vulnerability...potential hurt might be dressed up as homeless person, asking for compassion. Taking advantage. Rather being too careful and unfair, than being hurt. Unfortunately😔. Thank you for the share, thought- and heart provoking❤️🫶🏼
But as I learned, being homeless, there is a lot of fear, vulnerability, and potential hurt dressed up as a corporate person walking by.
They might jeer, laugh, kick you, spit on you, throw away your things, or do a number of things to you. Just because they can. And then, if you do anything in response, they will simply claim you assaulted them. Normal people had all the power. I had none. I just had to take the abuse.
So yes, there might be a lot of fear, vulnerability, and potential hurt dressed up as a homeless person. However, those same qualities are also found in many other forms of expression. 🩵
Alex, my heart is renewed by this story. Crispy bacon and a lady bug in confirmation. We have many homeless in Chicago. When I have it, I share cash but what you described created a little human relationship.
Thank you for being here and sharing this with me, my friend 🩵. I'm so glad this article contributed to renewal. 🩵 Homelessness is certainly rampant in Chicago, so my heart is lifted that you find the opportunity to lift others up when you can. It makes all the difference.
Alex, I cried in the middle of the piece. Your message about the willingness to connect struck me more strongly than ever before. Our world needs this so badly right now. I loved this line, in particular: "But because something in us recognizes that the world we're walking through is the world we're creating." It's up to us, isn't it?
Oh, my friend, thank you for being here and sharing this with such openness. I’m so grateful you felt that deep stirring — I know exactly what you mean about those tears. That line you highlighted truly feels like a gentle yet urgent reminder that we hold so much power in how we show up, both for ourselves and for each other. It’s a beautiful, heavy responsibility, isn’t it? And your words, “It’s up to us,” they echo in my heart deeply. We get to choose connection over isolation, love over fear, every single day. You deserve to feel seen and held in this journey, my friend. Thank you for walking this path with me 🩵.
Totally only crispy bacon! No lettuce on burgers on a bun. Only hamburger in a lettuce wrap is just plain good. Yes the almost moments I have experienced did make me walk lighter, my heart joyful and my smile, if only for myself was wider! Thank you for reminding me.
Oh my friend, your love for ONLY crispy bacon and skipping lettuce on burgers made me smile so big—there’s something so honest and joyful in those simple preferences, isn’t there? 🩵 And that line about walking lighter and feeling your heart joyful in those “almost moments” really resonates with me.
Those fleeting sparks of joy, just for ourselves, are such precious gifts. Thank you for sharing that vulnerability so openly. We get to hold onto those moments like little treasures, and I’m so grateful you found that here with me. You deserve all the wide smiles and lightness in the world, always. Thank you for being here, truly. 🩵
Alex, this is a powerful, poignant essay. I love when you say, "The question isn't whether our walls are justified. It's whether they're still serving their original purpose, or have become reflexive responses that keep us isolated even when connection is possible." As a society we do build walls, walls that do not have to be there. We impose that on ourselves and our fellow humans.
The world would be a better place if we all stopped to see each other as fellow human beings, not to just walk brusquely past and past life, but to understand that aliveness exists within even in urban landscapes.
Thank you for being here and sharing your beautiful reflection, my friend 🩵. That part about walls becoming reflexive responses really touched me too. It’s SO easy to build those barriers without even realizing how long we’ve kept them up, isn’t it? I love how you recognized the humanity in urban spaces, that aliveness that often goes unnoticed amid the rush.
We get to choose, to slow down, to truly see each other beyond the surface. Your words remind me why this work matters so deeply. I’m grateful you felt moved by the essay and took the time to connect with it. Thank you for being here with me 🩵.
This is beautiful, Alex. Especially this part: "Every day we make dozens of tiny choices. Someone asks for help and we either harden or soften. A conversation happens and we either perform or tell the truth. We either reach for the familiar excuse or risk something real.
These aren't grand gestures. Most people won't notice. But they accumulate.
Culture rarely shifts by decree. It shifts by interruptions of our automatic responses."
I needed to read that. Your words strengthen me today.
My kids and I made care kits for the unhoused in our community almost two months ago, and last weekend, we were in the van as a family. When Ben stopped at this busy intersection, I reminded him of the care kit and he rolled down the window and handed it to the man with the cardboard sign. My kids were totally silent, and they didn't speak the rest of the way home. I know they absorbed what happened, because they got to witness the fruits of their actions. They got to SEE the person who benefited from those bags they assembled with such care. That means something.
I think that is what will save me today, because I am feeling very low about myself and my life and my creative work that is going nowhere fast. Thank you for reminding me that even if all I leave behind in my life is some good inside my children that they can then pass on to the world they inherit, then I've done something right. That helps me.
Thank you for reading and sharing my friend. Your work matters. Our collective work matters. These little things, even if they don't feel like that, have the power to shape societies too, because it is what gives us the "feel" of our culture and society. What we do in these little moments matter.
Your children absorbed that moment. So did you. 🩵 What a beautiful and powerful moment.
Your creative work does the same, and on an even grander scale. You reach thousands each month with beautiful stories and wisdom. That is a beautiful, important thing.
Thanks for the perspective shift, Alex. I get lost in the sea of numbers sometimes, even worse, the crushing comparison game. I appreciate this. It’s kind of you to say that. Also—how cool is it that you wrote an essay about this, and the one I published last week was about the care kits my kids and I made for the homeless in our community?
Jeannie, this phrase really got to me today, "because I am feeling very low about myself and my life and my creative work that is going nowhere fast."
It is hard when you are in the thick of parenting young children, advocating for a child with a disability, and not having the earning power you would like to have.
I see this, I feel this, I lived this twenty to forty years ago.
It's challenging. Because what you maybe don't see are outcomes. Not yet.
But you will, my dear... you will.
Your children are receiving such an amazing gift from who you are in the world.❤️
Thank you, Nancy. I am crying, because I know you write this from lived experience. It strengthens me. Thank you. You are the gift for me today. ❤️
Oh your children are so blessed! You are that lady bug on their shoulder. Your story strengthens us.
Yes, Ellen. Thank you for saying that. Jeannie is the Lady Bug personified. 🩵
What a beautiful image of the lady bug personified, Ellen!
I'm with you on the bacon...it's gotta be crispy. And lettuce on burgers is always lifeless and flimsy and slippery.
Every Saturday, as I drive home from dog training class, I pass the same woman on the same corner with the same sign. She just holds the sign and stares lifelessly off into the distance. I've tried smiling at her. One time I even tried giving her money but she didn't even notice me. She looked like a living ghost. My heart hurts every time I see her.
This week, across the intersection was a man. He had a similar cardboard sign, but the opposite face. He was angry. Ranting and raving. Pumping the air with his fist. Face red and voice brash. I was scared he was going to attack my car as I waited at the red light.
all the while, the woman stared lifelessly, as if he wasn't there at all. as if nothing was there, not even her.
I never know what to do when I come to this intersection, especially since there was that one time I tried to give her money and she didn't notice me.
what I do know is that the empathy I feel reminds me of how alive my own life really is.
Yes, empathy is certainly something that helps remind us of how alive we genuinely are. What a story and a set of characters to run into, especially the new one. It's hard to know what to do, and money isn't always the right approach (and often isn't). But noticing and not extending invisibility is often the first step. Allowing people to be human, as you did, was more than enough. Allowing yourself to connect, and even allow yourself to be in touch with your aliveness in response? Beautiful. So many people don't even allow themselves to see what is around them anymore.
A really good story serves as an invitation, expanding my mind and often challenging the way I think.
And then there are the great stories—ones such as this. The ones that linger long after I’ve hit the “heart” button and closed my laptop. Thank you for this lasting invitation to look beyond my inner thoughts and consider, too, my outer actions and what kind of footprints I hope to leave in this world. I’ll now think of these opportunities as “ladybug moments.” Moments where I can do my small part to make another human feel seen and welcome in this world that belongs to all of us. 🐞
Hi Jennifer. Wow! What a truly beautiful comment that touched me.
Our outer actions have tremendous potential to change the world, even in small, "ladybug moment" ways. The world does belong to all of us. And if we can all channel THAT type of energy, imagine what kind of world we could create.
I’m so grateful you’re here, holding space for these deep, connected invitations 🩵. Thank you for being here, my friend.
You touched on something I struggle with whenever I’m in the city. As a woman, I don’t feel safe when strangers approach me. My husband came up with a solution. For those who ask for help on the streets-I carry gift cards to Dunkin Donuts. This way it’s a quick exchange for someone like me whose nervous system kicks up in these circumstances.
Thank you for being so kind to the milkshake loving man and for showing us it’s worthwhile to break out of our automatic patterns.
Oh my friend, that really resonates with me. Thank you for sharing such a thoughtful and practical way you’ve found to protect your safety while still offering kindness. Carrying those Dunkin Donuts gift cards as a gentle, safe exchange is so beautiful; it shows how creative love can be even when our nervous systems are on high alert. I’m so grateful your husband’s idea supports you in those moments that feel uncertain. Thank you for being here, and sharing such a beautiful (and practical) idea. 🩵
I love your gift card to Dunkin' Donuts idea!
Alex - What sticks out for me is how you frame the “almost” moments, the little gaps where we either default to disconnection or let something else happen. The way you tie the encounter with the man, the laughter over bacon, and even the ladybug together into one thread of aliveness makes it clear that these aren’t small things at all. They’re the places where culture and personal meaning come together.
Your line about “the world we’re walking through is the world we’re creating” stands out as it names what most of us feel but don’t always slow down to notice.
I love how you noticed the laughter over bacon and the ladybug, too; those little sparks of aliveness often get overlooked, but they hold so much power.
We get to slow down and honor that truth: the world we’re walking through is indeed the world we’re creating. You’ve captured that tenderness and awareness so well, and I’m so grateful you’re here to hold this space with me 🩵.
Thank you Alexander! I couldn’t agree more! 🙂
🐞 💞
Thank you for being here, Teyani 🩵
"Small acts. Ordinary encounters. The foundation of everything we claim we want to change." Yes! Every choice we make matters! We have the opportunity every single day to create a better world!
Yes, my friend, you’ve captured something so profound here 🩵 “Small acts. Ordinary encounters.”
It continues to resonate with me because sometimes the weight of wanting to change the world feels overwhelming, but when we remember it’s in those everyday moments, it becomes possible—and even beautiful. We get to choose kindness, presence, and love every single day, and that ripple becomes something greater than we can see right now. Thank you for being here, my friend. 🩵
"There is a whole lotta… “I can’t.”
But, that isn't the whole story.
We're not powerless over the microstructures."
This essay made me think about those small choices in a different way than the starfish story.
Thanks.
Thank you for being here and sharing this quote, my friend 🩵
I love this part and the tension between feeling overwhelmed by all the “I can’t” moments and recognizing the power we actually hold in those tiny microstructures of choice. Sometimes those small, daily decisions feel so subtle, yet they ripple out in ways we don’t always see right away. You deserve to feel both seen in your struggle and encouraged in your agency. We get to hold that paradox together, and I’m so grateful you’re here reflecting on it with me. 🩵
Important lessons.
Thank you for being here, Michele. 🩵
Alex, this is an excellent approach to that age old dilemma about how to reach out in a positive way to those in need.
I appreciate you, Nancy. It was a beautiful reflective essay to write, and a wonderful moment to have in the world. 🩵
Thank you, Alex, for this simple reminder. In every moment, we have choices. ❤️
Thank you, Julie, for being here. 🩵 We always have choices. I believe we can make a positive impact, even in small ways, on the world. And it can make a difference. Maybe it is naive. But, maybe it is not. 🩵
Lot of fear, vulnerability...potential hurt might be dressed up as homeless person, asking for compassion. Taking advantage. Rather being too careful and unfair, than being hurt. Unfortunately😔. Thank you for the share, thought- and heart provoking❤️🫶🏼
I agree, Petra.
But as I learned, being homeless, there is a lot of fear, vulnerability, and potential hurt dressed up as a corporate person walking by.
They might jeer, laugh, kick you, spit on you, throw away your things, or do a number of things to you. Just because they can. And then, if you do anything in response, they will simply claim you assaulted them. Normal people had all the power. I had none. I just had to take the abuse.
So yes, there might be a lot of fear, vulnerability, and potential hurt dressed up as a homeless person. However, those same qualities are also found in many other forms of expression. 🩵
Alex, my heart is renewed by this story. Crispy bacon and a lady bug in confirmation. We have many homeless in Chicago. When I have it, I share cash but what you described created a little human relationship.
Thank you for being here and sharing this with me, my friend 🩵. I'm so glad this article contributed to renewal. 🩵 Homelessness is certainly rampant in Chicago, so my heart is lifted that you find the opportunity to lift others up when you can. It makes all the difference.
Alex, I cried in the middle of the piece. Your message about the willingness to connect struck me more strongly than ever before. Our world needs this so badly right now. I loved this line, in particular: "But because something in us recognizes that the world we're walking through is the world we're creating." It's up to us, isn't it?
Oh, my friend, thank you for being here and sharing this with such openness. I’m so grateful you felt that deep stirring — I know exactly what you mean about those tears. That line you highlighted truly feels like a gentle yet urgent reminder that we hold so much power in how we show up, both for ourselves and for each other. It’s a beautiful, heavy responsibility, isn’t it? And your words, “It’s up to us,” they echo in my heart deeply. We get to choose connection over isolation, love over fear, every single day. You deserve to feel seen and held in this journey, my friend. Thank you for walking this path with me 🩵.
Totally only crispy bacon! No lettuce on burgers on a bun. Only hamburger in a lettuce wrap is just plain good. Yes the almost moments I have experienced did make me walk lighter, my heart joyful and my smile, if only for myself was wider! Thank you for reminding me.
Oh my friend, your love for ONLY crispy bacon and skipping lettuce on burgers made me smile so big—there’s something so honest and joyful in those simple preferences, isn’t there? 🩵 And that line about walking lighter and feeling your heart joyful in those “almost moments” really resonates with me.
Those fleeting sparks of joy, just for ourselves, are such precious gifts. Thank you for sharing that vulnerability so openly. We get to hold onto those moments like little treasures, and I’m so grateful you found that here with me. You deserve all the wide smiles and lightness in the world, always. Thank you for being here, truly. 🩵
Alex, this is a powerful, poignant essay. I love when you say, "The question isn't whether our walls are justified. It's whether they're still serving their original purpose, or have become reflexive responses that keep us isolated even when connection is possible." As a society we do build walls, walls that do not have to be there. We impose that on ourselves and our fellow humans.
The world would be a better place if we all stopped to see each other as fellow human beings, not to just walk brusquely past and past life, but to understand that aliveness exists within even in urban landscapes.
Thank you for this memorable piece.
Thank you for being here and sharing your beautiful reflection, my friend 🩵. That part about walls becoming reflexive responses really touched me too. It’s SO easy to build those barriers without even realizing how long we’ve kept them up, isn’t it? I love how you recognized the humanity in urban spaces, that aliveness that often goes unnoticed amid the rush.
We get to choose, to slow down, to truly see each other beyond the surface. Your words remind me why this work matters so deeply. I’m grateful you felt moved by the essay and took the time to connect with it. Thank you for being here with me 🩵.