Have you ever found yourself staring at a single moment, trying to see if there is something more hidden beneath the surface? Billy Collins gives us such a beautiful way to approach life when he suggests we take a poem and hold it up to the light like a color slide. To me, this means that words, much like our experiences, aren't just meant to be read or passed by. They are meant to be illuminated. When we hold something up to the light, we aren't just looking at the shape of it; we are looking for the translucency, the hidden hues, and the way the light dances through the details we might have missed in a quick glance.

In our busy, modern lives, we often treat our days like a fast-moving film strip rather than a collection of beautiful slides. We rush from one task to the next, checking boxes and moving toward the next deadline without ever pausing to see the colors within our own stories. We consume information, social media feeds, and even conversations with a sort of frantic speed, never giving ourselves the chance to let the light hit the details. We miss the subtle shifts in mood, the quiet beauty of a sunset, or the profound meaning in a friend's simple kindness because we are too busy looking at the surface.

I remember a rainy Tuesday a few months ago when I felt particularly overwhelmed. I was rushing through my morning routine, much like a duck scurrying to get out of the rain, when I stopped to look at a single fallen leaf stuck to my windowpane. Instead of just seeing debris, I paused. I held it up to the morning light, just like that color slide. I noticed the intricate, skeletal veins and the way the amber color glowed against the grey sky. In that tiny moment of stillness, the heaviness of my to-do list didn't disappear, but it transformed. The world felt much more vibrant and connected because I had chosen to look through the light rather than just at the object.

We can do this with our struggles, too. When a difficult emotion or a heavy thought feels too dark to bear, try holding it up to the light. Look for the lessons, the growth, or even the small glimmer of hope that might be hiding in the shadows. It takes patience and a willingness to be still, but the colors are waiting to be discovered. Today, I invite you to pick one small thing—a memory, a sentence from a book, or even a person in your life—and hold it up to the light. See what new colors appear when you give them the warmth they deserve.