On my bike ride to work this morning, I saw the moon setting in the Western sky, gossamer and holy. Almost other-worldly. I felt very reminded—indeed I feel very reminded every time I see the moon in a particularly well-defined state—that we are on a planet that is delicately suspended between other massive spheres of rock and gas in a giant expanse of space. How exquisitely, almost tragically fragile it all is: this fleeting existence. I thought of meaning—how as the coldness of the morning shifts to the warmth of midday, what I deem important or worrisome almost arbitrarily changes from moment to moment. It is merely the nature of existing on a spinning planet that revolves around an indifferent sun: time passes. Everything changes, always. To cherish—not lament—the delicacy of every moment marks the wisdom of the lucid soul.