Have you ever just looked up at the sky without any agenda?

I’m talking about standing (or sitting) there, gazing into that open space, letting your eyes trace the clouds.

I’d never done it with such intention—until I came across an intriguing discussion from the Greater Good Science Center at UC Berkeley suggesting that looking up might play a role in mental well-being, religious experiences, and even creativity.

As a single mom in my early 40s with a demanding writing career, I’m never short on obligations. I’m used to juggling grocery lists, my son’s homework, and a flurry of emails. So, even if I’ve always admired the idea of mindfulness, I just assumed I didn’t have time for a long meditation routine each morning.

That’s why I decided to try a simpler experiment: spending ten minutes every day, for one month, just staring at the sky.

I expected relaxation, maybe a little clarity. What I got was a mental shift I hadn’t seen coming—one that both challenged and changed me. 

It wasn’t always comfortable, and it definitely wasn’t what I expected from “just looking up.”

Let me walk you through what happened inside my head, in three distinct phases, and why I think it made a real difference in my life.

A gentle shift

It started awkwardly. On day one, I remember thinking of everything else I should be doing: finishing a project, answering emails, making dinner plans.

I kept checking the timer on my phone, wondering if ten minutes of simply looking had any point at all. Yet by the end of that first week, something curious happened.

I noticed that the daily rush of thoughts slowed down—just a notch, but enough to grab my attention.

According to Psychology Today, mindfulness doesn’t need to be an hour-long commitment. They suggest that short, intentional moments of awareness can buffer the effects of stress.

In my case, focusing on the sky became a surprisingly grounding experience. When your gaze stretches to the horizon, your problems feel a bit smaller. It’s as if the mental noise gets cradled by something bigger, calming the mind without you even trying too hard.

During these initial days, I also discovered that looking at clouds, colors, and changing light patterns felt a lot like a mini-vacation from my daily responsibilities.

I started to see how rarely I gave my brain permission to just exist. Before, I’d run from one obligation to the next, always feeling like I had to be “on.” Now, these ten minutes served as a protective bubble where nobody could reach me (I kept my phone on silent).

I might’ve been standing in my backyard, but for those moments, it felt like my own quiet domain.

Emotional unraveling

By the second week, I began noticing subtle emotional ripples. Sometimes, I’d stare at the sky and feel a wave of sadness or worry over things I’d pushed aside—past regrets, small anxieties about the future.

It caught me off guard. But I soon realized that allowing my mind to wander in a calm, open space also gave buried emotions room to surface.

And as uncomfortable as it was, I knew I needed that release.

It’s not that the sky magically solved my problems. But giving my mind permission to slow down helped me see which worries were urgent and which ones were simply background noise.

This mental sorting process felt like cleaning out a cluttered closet, one glance at the sky at a time.

I also saw a ripple effect in my personal life. When I’d normally snap at my son’s endless questions (trust me, he has a lot), I started handling them with more patience. I even chatted with him about how looking up can be a chance to reset your thoughts, hoping to raise him as an open-minded, curious thinker.

It’s amazing how such a simple practice can shift emotional patterns in ways you don’t expect.

A deeper sense of clarity

By the final stretch of the month, I realized I wasn’t just calmer—I felt clearer in how I approached my daily tasks. I’d look at the sky and notice details I’d never paid attention to: faint shades of pink or gold at sunrise, how the clouds thinned out just before a storm. 

It became a lesson in observation, which spilled over into my writing and my decision-making process. 

Research shows that connection with nature can enhance overall well-being in so many ways, and that’s certainly what I noticed in my month-long experiment. 

Those precious ten minutes ended up making me feel more grateful, more creative, more…new. Even these small windows of time can reduce mental fatigue and spark creative thinking. Looking up seemed to open up mental space for fresh perspectives, and I welcomed every one of them.

Standing still under that vast canvas each day reminded me that the world is so much bigger than my immediate to-do list. That alone was worth the ten minutes.

I also remember reading something by Glennon Doyle about confronting life’s noise head-on: she suggests that honest reflection, even if brief, can reveal inner truths you might otherwise ignore.

That’s what happened for me. In stillness, I saw which choices aligned with my values and which obligations were stealing energy without giving anything back. 

I realized I needed to set clearer boundaries in my work schedule and learned to say “no” more confidently.

Conclusion

Spending a month intentionally staring at the sky each day isn’t a magic cure-all. It didn’t give me a blueprint for life. 

But I will say this – it gifted me small pockets of calm and clarity that were missing before.

I’ll keep this up, even if not daily, because those few minutes of looking up turned out to be a way of looking inward. It reminded me that sometimes the simplest actions can have a profound impact on how we feel and how we move through our day.

If you’re tempted to try it, just give yourself the grace to be patient with your thoughts. You might be surprised at what your mind reveals when you make the sky your only focus for a while.

That’s my story. Ten minutes a day for a month, and I’m seeing life with a calmer, clearer perspective—one I never expected from simply tilting my gaze skyward.