Life has a funny way of piling on pressure. Deadlines, responsibilities, and the constant noise of expectations all start to build, and sometimes, it feels like everything is closing in. In those moments when I’m stressed, anxious, or overwhelmed, there’s one thing I do that always seems to help. I go to a window or step outside for a stroll, and I look up at the sky.

When you look up at the sky, what do you see?

I see wonder. I see hope. I see life beyond my own. I get this awestruck feeling that I can’t always explain, but it grounds me. The sky, to me, is the purest form of art. A living canvas that changes every single time you glance up. Whether it’s cloudy or clear, glowing with stars, or painted in sunset hues, it always has something to say. Something to show. Something to make me feel.

On a nice day, when clouds drift lazily across a blue sky, I can’t help but smile. There’s something almost magical about the way the sunlight hits them, casting soft shadows and shapes that stretch across the sky. They fuel my creativity, spark ideas for stories and scenes, and make me feel small in the best way possible. It reminds me that there is still beauty in the world and that there always will be. Clouds are like nature’s inkblots, the kind a psychiatrist might show you during a session. Whether I’m seeing Godzilla shooting atomic breath into a blanket of clouds or a hamster balancing a ball on its head while rolling down a hill on a unicycle, there’s always something there calling back to me. And just like a shrink, it seems to help me mentally. Interpreting those airborne shapes in some way helps clear my own thoughts.

Then, at night, when the stars come out, a different kind of inspiration punches my imagination. The night sky makes me wonder. It comforts me when I’m feeling down or lost. There’s something deeply soothing about staring into a galaxy of possibilities and letting your mind drift. I think about how vast the universe is, and somehow, that helps me feel less claustrophobic. Like maybe all the struggles and worries we experience in life aren’t as big as they seem.

Of course, there are also the sunsets and sunrises. Those moments when the world feels like it slows down just enough to let you breathe. Watching the colors shift from deep purples to golden yellows like a pastel painting, feeling the Earth rotate as we chase the sun or let it go, reminds me to live in the moment. During those few minutes, I forget everything else. My brain stops racing, my heart quiets down, and I just sit there, basking in the art projected before me.

Even when it rains or when the sky is just an endless ocean of blue with nothing in it, there’s still a quiet beauty. A stillness. A moment of peace. The sky doesn’t have to do anything flashy to inspire me. It just has to be.

One of the most profound experiences of my life was tied directly to the sky. I had the chance to travel throughout China, and one time, I climbed Mt. Taishan with my friend, his girlfriend, and his dad. We started the hike in the evening, planning to reach the top by sunrise. All 6,366 steps. I’ll never forget it.

Every step brought something new. At first, we could see the lights of Taishan City behind us, glowing like a distant constellation on the Earth. But the higher we went, the more the city vanished, swallowed by the clouds. Eventually, it was like we were walking through the heavens themselves. I was exhausted, cold, and honestly barely hanging on by the end. I crawled the last hundred steps. But when I reached the top, everything changed.

The sun began to rise. Clouds wrapped around the mountain like a blanket. The sky stretched out endlessly, bursting into color as the first light broke through. I was numb, but I felt more alive than ever before. Sitting up there, I felt something awaken in me. A realization of how short life is and how powerful it can be when you chase something you care about. That moment, I believe, was when I truly found my passion for writing.

It made me reflect on everything: my goals, my fears, my family, my friendships. I was a 24-year-old guy from the States who had barely traveled or stepped out of my comfort zone my whole life, suddenly living in China, climbing a mountain in the dark, and discovering who I really was. It wasn’t just the climb. It was the sky that welcomed me at the top that changed something in me. That was 10 years ago, and I still often reminisce about it. 

The sky can teach us a lot if we let it. Maybe it won’t speak to everyone the same way, but for me, it’s the most incredible artist of all. Every time I look up, I find my mind drifting off, thinking, dreaming, and creating.

And I’ll never stop looking up.

How about you?