The lingering haze does not take away the endless visibility of NASA’s horizon, as I entered the gates last night.

It is more like an intense unused feeling you experience for the first time, as soon as you arrive here.

There seems to be this additional layer of reality that rests on the blank space around you.

I searched for the stars above the Kennedy Space Center’s two lane roads and when I located them they appeared to hang a little further down.

The horizon at NASA spoke to the grounds of the earth as if they were in a relationship that can never end.

These grounds have vibrated, and given birth to so many explorers and adventurers, that they came alive as I drove above them.

The roads led me to launch pads and buildings that were scattered throughout this vast gated land.

Somehow grief shrinks here as if it has no power over infinity.

And last night, I felt the vibrations from the earth in my chest, and in the midst of a dark night next to the ocean, I saw a star like rocket go up into space. (watch the video here.)

It was so bright, bright like a big star getting up close with earth.

The light surrounded me as if it wanted to take me to space with it.

As if I was going on a big grand adventure.

And as I witnessed the grandness of our humanity, the possibility of so much more than we know, I felt that this life we live in has to have magnificence in it. It has to have awe and thrills.

No matter what has happened to you, to me, our souls yearn for the majestic. (Click to Tweet!)

They yearn for the miraculous.

For the infinity. For the impossible.

And as you read this today, I beg you to go out there and look for your next thrill.

For your majestic moment.

It could be found on a first kiss.

It could be hiding on a hike.

It could even be inside your house, on a bookshelf, inside a book.

It could be in your children’s love.

At the beach.

But in order to find it you have to remember how it was to be a kid.

Last night, as I was waiting for the rocket to lift off, I heard myself say to the person next to me, I feel like a kid right now.

And I don’t remember the last time I felt like this.

Grief robs us from our kid like experience. Don’t let it. (Click to Tweet!)

Your homework for this weekend is to do something that will make you say “I feel like a kid.” Even for a few moments.

For just a few seconds to have this feeling again.

No matter how much you lost, you can bring back the magnificence of your life.

To your lift off,


P.S. Thank you NASA for saying yes and for being such an incredible dream maker.

Photo Credit: Ben Cooper /