Both pencil shavings and moss invite us to look closer. They ask us to slow down, to notice the edges of things - the quiet spaces where beauty isn’t loud but persistent.
A pencil shaving spirals away from its pencil, not as waste, but as a record of creativity, a byproduct transformed into something gorgeous, jagged, and alive. Moss doesn’t strive to be loud; it thrives in stillness, clinging to surfaces others overlook. In its tiny spirals, it creates worlds where others see none.
My hope for you, Sushma, is this:
That when you sharpen a pencil, you notice the curl of its shavings as if they’re blooming into flowers.
That when you see moss, you pause, crouch low, and marvel at its miniature forests.
That you find joy in the details, in the overlooked, in the tiny miracles that quietly invite you to look closer.
I hope you enjoy my starting points—a generative pencil-shaving project, some tips for moss walks—but they’re just invitations. I think my real gift to you is a reminder: the things you already notice and love are so wonderful. You have a perspective that makes others see the world differently, more clearly, more magically. Thank YOU for sharing that gift!
Jordanne