Believe in Stars
Callie Shaw
February 2nd, 2026
A few weeks ago, I unwrapped an Amazon package I couldn’t remember ordering. My apartment has a complicated relationship with deliveries, so I’ve more or less surrendered to the “package gods.” Things disappear, things reappear, and eventually you stop trying to understand the logic of it all.
This particular package was a purchase I’d made back in September and long forgotten about - two silicone star-shaped ice mold trays that, apparently, the big man upstairs (or whatever cosmic force is in charge of the postal system) decided I was finally ready for.
Star-shaped ice makes everything better. It's hard not to smile as tiny stars dance around your glass - a reminder that sometimes the most spiritual thing we can do is to have fun and be unserious.
Ice is supposed to be fun.
Ice is not supposed to be dangerous. Ice is not supposed to be cruel. Ice is not supposed to be dehumanizing.
It's taken me a bit to figure out what exactly it is I wanted to say about what is going on in our country. Some days, I can't quite muster up the energy to break through my overwhelm and find reasons to stay hopeful. Some days, it feels easier to sink into the pessimism and anger.
I guess I don't have much to say. In some ways, I feel like I've run out of words that could ever properly summarize the heartbreak, disgust, anxiety, sadness I feel. And so, I stay silent. Silence is a lonely place.
Today, I watched my little stars grab onto each other as water flooded over their icy edges. The water filled the gaps between them - its stream powerfully submerging them, forcing them to the sunken depths of my glass. They clung to one another, forming a conglomerate of frozen over shapes.
And then, one released itself. Floating delicately upward, it peeked above the water's surface. Its five points revealed - reclaiming its individuality, finding its shape once again.
We are all submerged. Submerged in hateful rhetoric, submerged in judgement, submerged in the overwhelm of wanting change for our country but not knowing how. So we stay stuck - clinging to the dread, the hopelessness that cements itself to the bottom of the glass. Togetherness is important, but togetherness can become dangerous when it becomes a community submerged. Our words weighed down by negativity, our thoughts anchored in hate.
The incredible thing about being human is our innate capacity to love. The second we forget the power of love - in all its forms - we lose the very thing that strings us all together. Somewhere along the way, our country seems to have forgotten how to love.
I keep thinking about how only love can melt what has hardened - but love is soft, and softness is frightening in a world that rewards force. We’ve confused strength with cruelty and disagreement with dehumanization. Anger is justified, but I fear it alone won't be what heals us.
It took one star breaking free from the shapeless buried body for others to follow suit. One at a time, they floated to the surface - greeted with the freedom of fresh air above.
I may not know exactly where to go from here - but I know that staying silent is no longer serving me. My heart - who knows love, who knows the power of staying soft in a world that will try to harden you - will not be drowned anymore. When in doubt, I will look up.
Look up at the birds, look up at the clouds.
Get outside - be outside.
Put art out into the world.
Be wrong. Mess up. Misspeak. Change your mind.
Inconvenience yourself more often. The truest form of love is to be considered.
Be curious. Make space for those who have different opinions from you.
Ask good questions. Of those around you, but more importantly, of yourself.
Fight for humanity. Speak up, even when you don’t know the right words to say.
Believe.
Believe in magic, believe in signs, believe in the Chicago Bears, in miracles, in love. Believe that good will prevail.
The most dangerous thing we can do is stop believing.
