Waiheke, Aotearoa New Zealand
September 13, 2020


This past wednesday night, the power dropped to my house and the entire valley around it.

Silence fell. No hums, no whirrs, no compressor motors. Just the late night call of a few owls, the wind brushing branches and leaves.

The moon, a few days past full, cut lines into the room. and the insanity of this year - just sort of stopped.

Earlier that day, I'd seen Wait but Why's graph on "if human history was an 800 page book", and it came back in that very moment.

For most of our existence, we funny creatures with thumbs and big heads have spent our nights under the stars and moon, listening for insects, the rustling of grass, falling asleep to the crackle of a fire.

We had worries, to be sure. But we knew what to do about them.

I sat in the moonlight, and felt such pity, such empathy for us - the modern human - trying to navigate a world none of us were built for.

I sat. Breathed. Talked with my partner late into the dark night - and nothing was missing.

Wherever you are, in whatever season and climate, I hope you find a few moments this week filled with that quiet. The kind we've been blanketed and comforted by, for thousands of years. Some peace.

Us, the stars, and the moon.


p.s. The best thing I saw all week was this interview with master designer Oki Sato on design, playfulness, and what he's learned.

Photo by Richard Mortel

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