“You just had to be there.” I know.

Hi friend, hope you had a splendid 4th. Writing this from Montana, overlooking the Yellowstone River. Yes, you’re going to be hearing from us every week. By the way, our team loved the Summer songs you sent over! You’re reading The Bright Side—a (now) weekly dose of calm and clarity in a noisy world.

“You just had to be there.”

We throw that phrase around a lot, right? 

Sometimes as an excuse when a story totally flops mid-delivery 😂

But if you slow down, you’ll realize it’s actually one of the truest things we ever say.

Why? It’s an admission that:

Not everything in life can be captured, downloaded and consumed for later.

Sometimes the window is literally right now, or it’s gone forever.

That some moments are too alive to translate. Even for the best storytellers.

And that no matter how hard you try to paint the scene and capture the details…

You had to be there.

To see how orange and purple collided for a mystical sunset.
To know why a random moment in the grocery store was so hilarious.
To hear your shy friend finally belt out a karaoke song like their life depended on it.

And…

To feel the stillness of a late-night drive with the windows down and everything making sense.

So, ask yourself:

When was the last time you said that?

Let’s make more of those moments this Summer.

Experience more. Document less.

Last week we spoke about “that” Summer. And you sent some awesome tunes.

(Including Summertime by Jazzy Jeff, Silly Love Songs by Wings, Let It Go, Play That Funky Music by Wild Cherry…)

Now, picture this: you find out one of your favorite bands is touring.

You put a note on your calendar. You hit “refresh” during the presale. You count down the days.

Now you’re at the venue. The lights go black, the first chord hits and you remember what it’s like to be all-in.

And then…

You pull out your phone. Because of course you do. We all do.

It’s basically instinct now: if we don’t capture it, it didn’t “really” happen.

But here’s the paradox:

The more you try to capture it, the more it slips through your fingers.

The camera shakes. The audio is rough. Later, when you rewatch it from your couch…it’s not the same.

Recently I read that the average person has thousands (or tens of thousands) of photos on their phone.

But over 20% admit they rarely look back at them.

Because deep down, we know that a saved image isn’t the same as a felt experience.

And maybe that’s the point: not every moment is meant to be captured. Some are meant to capture you.

P.S. Saw Vampire Weekend in May. Took this group photo, then let the night take over. Outdoor concerts = 😎

If you knew it was the last time…

If you knew this was the “last time”, how would you show up?

Like the movies, we think life gives us cues when something matters.

That every ending will come with an announcement. A soundtrack, a slow fade that says:

“Hey, you, pay attention. This is the final scene. And there won’t be an encore.”

But most of the time? In real life, the “last” time comes and goes…quietly.

Think about it:

The last time you played catch with your Dad.
The last time your friend group hung out before college sent you in different directions.
The last time you sat across from your grandmother and she told that story you’ve heard a hundred times.

Most of these “lasts” don’t feel final when they’re happening. They feel totally ordinary (and sometimes inconvenient.)

But that’s the heartbreak of it.

You don’t realize what a moment was until it’s already become a memory.

And sometimes, you’d pay anything, or do anything, just to get back there for a second.

So, what’s the shift?

Next time you’re trying to rush out of a moment, ask yourself:

If this was the last time, would I want to remember it like this?

Then show up accordingly.

Fully there. Fully present. Fully grateful.

How to “be there”. More often.

The goal isn’t just to chase magic.

It’s to notice when you’re in it and fully be there. Like this moment.

I’m sitting here writing on the porch and a tiny hummingbird got within 2 feet, hovered for a few seconds, stared me in the eye and flew away. For the rest of the week, I’ll be surrounded by wild silence and open skies here in Montana.

I hope that no matter where you (and whoever you’re with), you catch one of those moments.

And before you document it, tell yourself:

“This matters, even if no one else ever sees it.”

See you next week,