Cosmic Scale
Sometimes the macroscopic scale of the universe can seem a bit overwhelming. Our own planet, something so big in comparison to us, so big that most of us will never see the whole thing, is actually one of the smallest things in the universe. Compared to the scale of the stars in the sky, we're roughly the same size as dust motes. We're insignificant in cosmic terms. But then I think that such cosmic terms are not a metric by which we need to be gauging ourselves. We'll never move a planet, build a star, or organize a galaxy, but that's fine. Those aren't things that we need to do. Everything we need is right here in this tiny corner of the cosmos, which is astoundingly convenient because that's just where we happen to be. The atoms that make up your body could just as easily have become dust on the moon, a swirling gas cloud on Neptune, or even wound up in the core of Proxima Centauri, but they didn't. Those atoms persevered for aeons to coalesce into you at just the right time for you to exist. With all that useless junk floating around up there, the fact that life exists at all is a miracle, and being a part of that miracle is an honor beyond compare. So stop worrying about how much bigger than you a hypergiant like VY Canis Majoris is, or how much more power the supermassive black hole at the center of every galaxy has than you. You're doing something that those things can't, regardless of their size or power; living.
