A distant reminder of how small and quiet everything can look from far away – even the things we live inside every day. — Photo from pexels.com / Zelch Csaba
IT is funny how something can be right in front of you, and still feel invisible.
Like when you’re scrolling through your phone, or walking somewhere you’ve walked a hundred times, and you realise you don’t even remember the walk.
The sky is like that too. You see it every day, but you don’t really ‘see’ it, until something makes you stop.
Maybe that is why days like Earth Day come around every year – to remind us to notice what has been there the whole time.
Lately, for me, that has been space. I’ve been going down a rabbit hole with it.
Between following the Artemis II mission and coming out of the cinema thinking about the new sci-fi movie ‘Project Hail Mary’, it’s all kind of blended together in my head.
I think part of it also goes back to when we used to study science in school; that space always felt a bit different from everything else.
There was always that question in the back of your mind: “Is that really what’s out there, right now, while we are just here going about our lives?”
Like all of it is happening at the same time we are breathing, talking, and not really thinking about it.
One is real – four astronauts preparing to leave Earth, loop around the Moon, and come back.
The other is a story, but they both do the same thing – they make you pause for a second.
And then you see those images of Earth from far away: small, bright, everything we’ve ever known in one frame.
It’s so simple to look at, but so hard to actually take in.
It makes everything feel important and insignificant at the same time.
Like, everything matters: your life, your people, and the small details that you usually overlook.
And at the same time, nothing really does, because we are just this small piece of something unimaginably huge.
Both are true, and somehow, they exist together without cancelling each other out.
And maybe that’s what I’ve been noticing most; not just space, but that strange feeling of seeing something so clearly, and still not fully understanding it.
Why is it that sometimes, the most obvious things are the hardest to notice?
That feeling is actually more common than it seems. Maybe part of it is just how we are built.
Your brain is constantly filtering things so you don’t get overwhelmed.
If you paid attention to all of the sounds, movement, thoughts, and information, you wouldn’t be able to function.
So your brain prioritises. It focuses on what feels urgent or useful, and pushes everything else into the background.
That’s why you can sit in a noisy place and eventually stop noticing the noise.
Or why you don’t feel your clothes on your skin all the time.
Or why you can walk the same route every day and stop seeing it.
It’s not that things disappear – your brain just decides that they don’t need your attention right now.
We also get used to things quickly. The more something is around us, the less noticeable it becomes.
That’s why a sunset can suddenly hit you one day, even though the sky has been there your whole life.
Nothing changed out there – just your attention did.
Your mind sticks to what it can handle, but every now and then, something slips through.
You look up, or pause for a second, and think: “Wait, this is actually a lot.”
And for a moment, it really hits you.
Not because it’s new, but because your brain finally lets you notice it.
At the end of the day, it kind of feels like everything matters, and also nothing really does.
We stress over things, hold onto moments, try to make sense of it all, and then one day, we realise: some of it fades, some of it stays, and a lot of it just passes.
You don’t have to have it all figured out.
You don’t have to give everything meaning all the time.
Some things matter because they matter to you right now, and that’s enough.
And I think a big part of getting through it is this: you are not seeing everything, all the time; you are only seeing what your mind lets through.
So when something does make you pause – something ordinary that suddenly feels clear or important – it’s worth paying attention to.
Put your phone down.
Look up.
Let your mind catch up with where you are.
You don’t have to do it all the time – just enough to notice a bit more than you did yesterday.
Those small moments help you reset, even if just for a bit.
* The writer is a psychology graduate who enjoys sharing about how the human mind views the world. For feedback, email to [email protected].
