My favorite mornings happen on Sunday—usually.

The mornings when I get to wake up slowly.

Play some music.

Stay in my pajamas.

My hair a mess, and no agenda but to write whatever is dancing in my head.

My fingers are stretching, ready for the task ahead. Writing for you and me.

Maybe you want to bring french-roasted coffee or some green tea, some grapes, a banana?

Invite your soft blanket, and let us begin…

It all started with a curious star. She always couldn’t wait for the night to come, so she and all the stars could start to shine. She looked upon Earth, everybody asleep.

She was fascinated by humans and how they lived their lives. They do yoga, chop wood, dance salsa, garden, paint mountains on a canvas, write articles, cook delicious peach pies, kiss their babies, teach math.

The star’s purpose was to illuminate the sky every night. She felt empty; she wanted to do more than just shine.

“There are so many of us anyway,” she thought to her shiny self, one night. “I want to be with them, illuminate their lives, not just their nights.”

Yann Tiersen is playing the piano, a soundtrack from the movie “Amelie,” my fingers are typing. I picture myself as a pianist, playing notes to create a melody coming together word by word, and it starts to have some rhythm.

The air feels cold, and the sun is slowly waking up, making its way through all the cities that have requested his presence before us.

Steaming vanilla-hazelnut coffee, the neighbor to my right hand. A melody is coming together; a sip of coffee here; typing two (maybe three) words; eating a green grape; it tastes crisp, fresh from being inside the fridge; typing again; another sip. And so it goes…

Sometimes, when I look at the stars, I feel they reflect our inner light like they want to remind us that we are in this world to shine.

Today, my mind can’t stop thinking of that idea—that all of us have inside us the dust of stars.

The beginning of something more…

All the stars knew that if they ever left the sky and tried to reach Earth, their components would explode into millions of tiny pieces of dust.

“If I stay in the sky, I would live for many, many years, just standing, being a light.

If I go where the humans are, all that I am will stay with them. They will have me in their trees, their air, their flowers, their mountains; I could cover their crops.

When they breathe, I will live inside them, and my light will rest inside their chest, in their thumping, warm hearts.

Every time they get lost or feel hopeless, I would poke their hearts and remind them of the light they carry inside.

I want to light their days. The rest of the stars, all my family, will illuminate their nights.”

And so one night she did—she came down to Earth and boom—like a million shooting stars, scattered all over the blue air.

Tiny gold dust shining all around.

The sky turned so bright, a gold reflection covered the whole world, as if Earth were a luminous star.

I hope you can see some gold-glaring dust of stars reflecting in your eyes—how beautiful and special you are.

If you press against your heart, there it is—that light that sometimes pokes at our heart, reminding us to shine, to share our light with others, as this star did with us.