by Mariaana Guerrero If you’re anything like me, someone who works the regular 8 – 5, Monday through Friday, your day might start out with a quick stop to your local favorite Java hut for a morning pick-me-up: coffee, tea or some good ol’ steamed milk. Nothing tastes as good as your favorite drink ahead of what may seem like a long freaking day. For all the good that comes out of that hot or cold cup of greatness, you have someone to thank for that. So thank your barista, enjoy your hot or cold cup of greatness, put on your superhero cape and go on about your day!

by Laurel Scheel Close your eyes breathe deep allow the noise to fade out let the world fall away into nothing now, open your eyes, what do you see… People rushing past, always in a hurry clouds lazily moving with the wind perhaps you see a bird or a street performer appreciate all this it is a moment that will never happen again soon it will all be gone. Will you remember will anyone remember this day, this minute, this moment in history when anything can happen? Feel, see, experience and remember your life is short, don’t waste time worrying. Appreciate that you exist now.

by Lucas Graupman One Sunday afternoon while skiing through a spruce forest, I found myself nose-to-snout with a moose. I thought the moose would be repelled by the sound of This American Life coming from my speaker. Instead, it charged. I skied away frantically, the moose on my tail for half a mile, as Ira Glass calmly interviewed an American autoworker. “Their problem is, they still aren’t reliable,” the autoworker was saying—something like that—as if he were also insulting my pursuer. The moose sniffed and turned around. He couldn’t care less.

by Stanislav Moiseev These words belong to my father, from when I was in school and university. To get up early and do as much as you can, don’t be lazy. “Get enough sleep in your next life, and now work and study.” Of course, he never meant to give up entirely on sleep, but rather to struggle with myself. To win that battle most of all.

by Gabriel Blanco There is a certain warmth that comes with knowing about the cosmos. A place as cold as our frigid universe pays no heed to our worries. Yet still, we spin, a shiny blue hue of worry and wonder. Stars are born, planets formed. Among the giants, we dance. From the heavenly bodies above us, to those so small we cannot see, time ties our existence together. Every moment we live, we share with those around us, those not around us, and even the giants dancing in the sky. Though we are but a spec, we are all tied to this moment, right now.

by David Scheel The octopus looked at me and I looked at her, octopus-collecting on my mind. She clung to the brown kelp, camouflaged brown and kelpy. What was in her mind as she gazed back at me? Keeping my eyes on her, I reached for the collecting bag clipped to my dive belt. Fumbled. Reached again. Fumbled again. For a brief second, I glanced down to find the bag. Put my hand there where it needed to be. Glanced back up into empty kelp, ink hanging in the water. She was gone.

by Steve Rubinstein What you notice first are clouds as you step out into sky from wherever you have come; they gather here in summer, feeding on the many-greened sea. There, in dim blue light folding inward, slowly rising toward the longest day, you will come to believe —a  continent drifting away— that memory is a corner torn from truth, that truth is not found where it lives.

by Roman Dial Busy with science in a tropical tree, 200-feet off the ground, I heard a squirrel. Looking, I saw not a rodent, but a 3-foot serpent, dangling in a long, lazy S. Gently swaying, it leapt free, its body flattened and sinusoidal as it sailed through the air, wiggling like it would in the water. The flying snake crossed 50 yards of empty air, approached a smooth trunk, reared up, straightened out, and stalled. After sticking its vertical landing, the reptile inched up the distant tree and disappeared. Quite a feat for the beast famously condemned to crawl.

by Max Brown I walked backward facing Nathaniel, my eyes struggling to find his shape in the dusky light. I spoke excitedly, recounting the day’s hike so far in Katmai. Suddenly, Nathaniel’s eyes widened as he pointed behind me, hand shaking. I turned around slowly, now nearly face to face with an enormous brown bear in the trail. I froze in my tracks before carefully backing up. The bear snorted and grunted, appearing unimpressed by my small self before lumbering off into the woods. I turned to Nathaniel: “I think Katmai is not going to disappoint.” He stood there, saying nothing.

by Gillian Craig There once was a girl with a heart made of glass. She sat by the sea, mind stuck in the past. The light in her eyes had long been snuffed out by the tragic recall of her growing self-doubt. At least where there’s doubt, there’s feeling and drive, but now she is empty and cold inside. No reason to stand up and fight, as if a thief had stolen from her a purpose in life. For once it was gone, and she was at peace, she shed but one tear, and asked herself, “What do we do, when our dreams are achieved?”