I judged a woman by her flaming fox sweatshirt. Then she and her mother danced circles around me—literally—and taught me a lesson I didn’t know I needed.

We stood in a tiny dressing room of a trailer, just the two of us. He held the results from the judges. The winner was clear. The woman had blown everyone away. But he hesitated. Then he turned to me and said, “What do you think? Should we give it to my buddy instead?”

Just like that, everything I had built was at risk.

Sometimes I think we overcomplicate what it means to be human. We chase meaning, dig for purpose, try to transcend. But maybe the sacred isn’t buried. Maybe it’s already here.