Saturday Morning Musings.

You’re standing on your balcony. Not looking at your phone for once. Just… standing. There’s green grass below. Parked like it belongs. The sky above is so blue it almost feels like a cliché. But it’s there. Undeniably there.

Now, pause.

That grass you’re seeing. That patch of green we all take for granted. It isn’t solid. Not really. If you could zoom in, and I mean really zoom in, past the chlorophyll and cells and atoms and into the stuff that holds all this up, you’d find mostly nothing. Empty space pretending to be structure. And if you go further still, what you hit isn’t matter. It’s fields. Invisible ones. Everything you can see is just a blip in those fields. A ripple. Not a thing. A happening.
Particles aren’t particles. They’re flickers. They show up, they vanish, they show up again somewhere else. Reality doesn’t sit still. It pulses.
And the sky. That perfect blue hanging over your weekend. It isn’t blue. The color only exists because light enters the atmosphere and bounces off tiny molecules in just the right way. Blue scatters more. So you see blue. But there’s no blue up there. Just light. Just air. The color is an illusion your brain has learned to accept. Chaos rebranded as calm.
You think you’re standing still. You’re not. The Earth is spinning at about 1600 kilometers an hour where you stand. It’s orbiting the sun. The whole solar system is moving. The galaxy, too. You’re riding a cosmic bullet, but everything around you is doing the same, so it feels like peace.

Now look around.
That exact light on your hand. That shadow stretching across the grass. The bird somewhere nearby, saying something only birds understand. That moment exists only for you. Time is not absolute. Your now might be someone else’s later. Or earlier. Relativity says time warps depending on where you are, how fast you’re moving. What you’re feeling now is unrepeatable. It’s yours alone.

But here we are. Breathing. Looking. Thinking. On a Saturday morning.
And maybe that’s all reality ever was. Not things. Not places. Just moments.
And our presence in them.