Space, science, and the human mind. Since 1995.
Daniel Moran
Writer at Space Daily

Daniel Moran

Writer

Daniel Moran is a writer at Space Daily covering the intersection of psychology, technology, and human behavior. He is one of the publication's most prolific contributors, writing across the Mind & Meaning and Science pillars. Daniel brings a background in technology research and a focus on how scientific findings translate into the way people actually live, work, and think.

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Psychology

You know someone is aging remarkably well when they’ve stopped being interested in whether they’re being looked at — the small, decades-long checking of the reflection, the casual self-monitoring in store windows, the half-second after a compliment to verify it — has quietly retired, and the absence of that interior labor is what gives their face the quality the rest of us are trying to describe when we say someone looks well

I want to write about my mother's friend G again, because I wrote about her once before in a different article, and what I want to describe today is something I noticed about her last summer that I have been turning over since.

Psychology

I’m 38 and I had dinner with an old friend last weekend — the kind of friend you used to talk to every week — and we sat across from each other and made warm, careful conversation for an hour, and on the drive home I understood we hadn’t ended, exactly, we’d just slowly become two people who would never have become friends if we met now, and the dinner was the small ceremony neither of us was willing to admit we were holding

I had dinner last weekend, in a restaurant in central Bangkok, with a man I'll call A, who used to be one of my closest friends.

Psychology

I’m 38 and I sat with my mother last Sunday while she told me a story I’ve heard a hundred times, and somewhere in the middle of it I understood she’s not telling me the story to inform me, she’s telling it to feel close to me — and the recognition rearranged how I’ll listen to her for the rest of her life

I sat with my mother in the kitchen of my parents' house in London last Sunday afternoon, and she told me a story I've heard, by my conservative estimate, somewhere between sixty and a hundred times.

Psychology

The most painful thing about a sibling who quietly stopped being close to you isn’t the distance itself — it’s the lack of a story to tell about it, no fight, no falling out, just a slow disappearance that nobody in the family will name, and you’ll spend years wondering whether you imagined the closeness you were sure you both once had

I have a sister. I've written about her once before, in a different article, but I want to come back to her here, because there's a specific kind of pain that…