I recently put together an anthology about single pieces of advice that changed people’s lives—real stories from real people about those small inflection points that shift everything. When it came time to promote the book, I asked the contributing authors to share the news, to crow a little so others could discover this collection of wisdom.
One woman’s response stopped me cold. She wrote about feeling “weird” that morning, paralyzed by the weight of daily stories that “pierce the heart.” She sat with fingers poised over her keyboard, unable to move forward. “Who cares about a book in times like these?” she asked. “My god, who even cares?”
This brilliant woman had to use her own mindset transformation techniques—the very wisdom she’d written about in her chapter—just to function enough to share news about our book. She realized that anyone in her social circle would be lucky to read her words and feel better, right now, today. But first she had to talk herself out of the paralysis that comes from believing nothing matters unless it addresses the horrors dominating our headlines.
Her struggle captures something I see everywhere: we’ve convinced ourselves that if we’re not writing about politics, wars, or genocide, we don’t have the right to speak. We’ve created a hierarchy of worthiness where only the most urgent, traumatic, or world-changing content deserves attention. Everything else feels frivolous, tone-deaf, selfish.
But here’s what I told her, and what I believe deeply: not everyone thinks like you. You may feel guilty consuming anything that fails to address global suffering, but other people are desperate for signs of hope, for everyday happenings, for reminders that normal life continues. I know I am.
Think about your own consumption habits. Are you drawn to wedding photos, graduation announcements, stories about family dinners? Signs of normalcy? I’m betting yes. Because we’re humans living human lives, and we need to see ourselves reflected in the ordinary moments as much as the extraordinary ones.
The very reason I invited real people to share their stories—not celebrities or influencers, but neighbors and colleagues—was to derive normalcy from their experiences. We learn from those around us. We need to see them as people with value, with wisdom gleaned from everyday encounters. Not everything has to make headlines to matter.
We’re living in a time when the weight of the world feels crushing, when every scroll through social media delivers fresh horrors. In this environment, sharing news of a book, a promotion, a small victory, or a lesson learned can feel almost obscene. How dare we celebrate anything when suffering exists?
But this thinking is flawed and ultimately destructive. When we only amplify trauma and crisis, we lose sight of what we’re fighting to preserve: the texture of ordinary life, the small joys, the quiet victories, the mundane moments that actually constitute most of our existence.
The woman who struggled to promote our book wasn’t being selfish or tone-deaf. She was offering something essential: proof that wisdom can be found in everyday experiences, that transformation doesn’t require catastrophe, that normal people navigating normal challenges have something valuable to contribute.
Yes, you might be criticized for sharing something that isn’t about the crisis du jour. But as I told her, no one bothers a dead dog. Do you mean to be a dead dog? Or do you mean to be alive, engaged, contributing to the fullness of human experience?
We need stories about weddings and graduations and family photos precisely because they remind us we’re all humans living life. We need breaks from the headlines. We need permission to find meaning in the mundane, to celebrate small wins, to share ordinary wisdom.
The anthology exists because I believe deeply that everyday people have something to teach us, that the advice that changes lives often comes not from gurus or experts but from friends, family members, strangers we meet in passing. These stories matter not despite their ordinariness, but because of it.
So dare to embrace the happy opportunity, the small accomplishment, the slice of normalcy. Share your mundane wisdom. Write about the everyday inflection points. The world needs your ordinary stories now more than ever.
