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Welcome to Life Is So Beautiful: It’s a handcrafted, non-AI-generated, free-range, shade grown, artisanally crafted weekly dose of hope and aspiration, lovingly curated by Hugh Hollowell (that’s me!), and is devoted to the belief that our hope for survival in this brutal world is rooted in finding the beauty that is everywhere, but sometimes hard to find.

Hey y’all!

Despite the fact I was in a bookstore, I wasn’t looking for a book, per se.

I was in Wichita, Kansas on a Sunday afternoon, and had three hours to kill before the earliest reasonable time I could show up at the airport.

To be clear, I am not afraid to show up at an airport as much as three hours early. They have snacks, they have wifi, and while you have to keep an eye on your bags, the reduced stress of not having to rush through security, not having to deal with the indignity of trying to hold your pants up while threading the belt on while rushing to get to your gate is worthwhile, and at this point in my life, almost essential.

But Wichita is a small airport. And it was six hours before my flight. And I was extroverted out, after having spent the last two days in intense meetings, with much conversation, and socializing. I was whooped, as they say.

I didn’t want to talk to anyone, didn’t want to answer any questions more complicated than “would you like cream with your coffee?”, and wanted to be free to leave whenever I wanted. So, I went to the local Barnes and Nobles.

They have coffee there, and it’s hard to beat a bookstore for people watching, even if you have no desire to buy a book. (I pretty much always desire to buy a book, for what it’s worth, but have less desire to carry an additional book on the plane).

The manga section was huge, and teens sat cross-legged on the floor, blocking the aisle with a stack of books on the floor next to them. The Bibles and Christianity section was enormous and packed with folks apparently on their way back from church, but I thumbed through a couple of books on Buddhism so they too felt loved. You may believe books have no feelings, but you are just wrong. I will not argue this.

Young couples on cheap midday dates were in the cafe, sipping confectionary coffee drinks and gazing into each other’s eyes. In the graphic novel section was a group of middle aged men debating about Ironman and Batman, and while wandering through the business section, I overheard a conversation between two men, one of who told the other that he had to focus on his goals. (That’s probably good advice, if you are into that sort of thing.)

The children gleefully looking at Curious George with their parents, the furtive behavior of the proper-looking church lady in the Amish Romance section, the heavily pierced lady browsing the books on Tarot… At this moment, even though I do not know these people, I love them.

In a bookstore I always feel the way a better person than I might feel in church: So much potential, so close to heaven, a taste of another, better world.

I love bookstores, and the people in them - such a wide swath of people, each seeking different things, and all looking for something easily found, but not enjoyed, on the internet. A good bookstore is full of stories - and not all of them are between the covers of the books.

Five Beautiful Things

From back in 2020, recorded just before the pandemic hit but released in the early days, when hope was in short supply: Coldplay on the Tiny Desk Concert. I could watch this over and over just to see the sheer joy that Chris Martin brings to this performance. And those backup vocalists are everything.

In 2016, I found myself in LA with a free day, so I hopped a train to Santa Monica. I spent hours wandering around, having mini-adventures, one of which was going to Santa Monica Pier for the first time. It was a magical place, and these pastel-tinged dreamlike photos from photographer Helene Havard brought back all the feelings.

All I’m saying is, golf would be much more interesting to me if it involved cats.

In 1987, jazz singer Joe Williams played at Birdland, a jazz club located on… Sesame Street. This 20 minute compilation of clips from that episode is great, but things really start jumping (no pun intended) around the 9:20 mark.

Why I Wake Early, by Mary Oliver (from the book of the same title, or read by the author here)

Hello, sun in my face.

Hello, you who make the morning

and spread it over the fields

and into the faces of the tulips

and the nodding morning glories,

and into the windows of, even, the

miserable and crotchety–

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best preacher that ever was,

dear star, that just happens

to be where you are in the universe

to keep us from ever-darkness,

to ease us with warm touching,

to hold us in the great hands of light–

good morning, good morning, good morning.

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Watch, now, how I start the day

in happiness, in kindness.

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TCB

The most opened link from the last issue (~ 9.5% of opens) was this SNL skit highlighting the many hilarious, nonsensical ways the US is different from the rest of the world.

On the blog, I wrote about laying out my new writing space (includes a picture of the new setup): My Back Against The Wall​

Ironically (or not) last year at this time I was writing about working in my old, inferior office: I’m Writing​

Thank you!

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Members are people who make a monthly contribution, and in exchange, get a special Members only newsletter once a month, as well as the satisfaction of knowing they are helping me release more beauty and hope in the world. Find out how to support this project by going here.

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Be well,

HH