The Astronaut's Secret

Weekly wisdom to level up your creative life in 3 minutes, for free.

A SHORT STORY

It’s no surprise that the world is navigating a difficult time. With a growing number of wars, upcoming elections, and polarizing ideas, it feels like we are in a constant tug of war.

A few years ago, I had the chance to interview Cady Coleman while working on Utopian Hotline. Coleman, who has spent more than six months in space, shared something that has been on my heart these last few weeks.

She spoke about the astronaut’s secret—a phenomenon documented as the Overview Effect, which is a cognitive shift reported by some astronauts while viewing Earth from space.

Coleman said: “The Earth is just a small part of a large universe. When you look down from space and see the surface of the globe and you know all those people down there are like you—they are you—you feel a kind of responsibility. You realize that our planet is small and fragile, and that little blue dot is everything—it holds all of history, music, poetry, art, death, birth, and love, all of it.”

As I reflect on this idea, I keep coming back to that word, responsibility. What is my responsibility towards that universe? What is my unique role to play? Or as Jung once said, “Everyone needs to figure out the myth they are living.”

What story are you acting out? And most importantly, what character resides within you?

A CREATIVE TOOL

Over the past year, we have sourced opportunities for over 700 artists across the world through our Open Call Feature on HUG.

This past week, I accompanied three of those artists to LA to inspire hair artists working with L’O’réal to incorporate AI into their practice.

It has been an honor to be a small part of so many artist’s respective journeys, and reminds me to constantly knock on doors. You never know what will be waiting for you around the corner.

A PIECE OF ART

“Meditations in an Emergency” by Cameron Awkward-Rich

I wake up & it breaks my heart. I draw the blinds & the thrill of rain breaks my heart. I go outside. I ride the train, walk among the buildings, men in Monday suits. The flight of doves, the city of tents beneath the underpass, the huddled mass, old women hawking roses, & children all of them, break my heart. There’s a dream I have in which I love the world. I run from end to end like fingers through her hair. There are no borders, only wind. Like you, I was born. Like you, I was raised in the institution of dreaming. Hand on my heart. Hand on my stupid heart.

Grateful,

Michael