Do Stars Exist?
When was it? A week ago, two weeks ago... I saw the stars- or did the stars see me? They looked right through me. I was moved, very moved. I can still taste it, or something like that- like it was yesterday, or a moment ago or what ever.
I was outside in the early evening rolling around. There were these three stars sort of sticking out. I knew they weren't the handle of the Big Dipper, but then a half hour later I knew they were the handle of the Big Dipper and I could see the pointer stars at the end of the bowl directing toward the North Star. And then I could see the Little Dipper. I don't see the Little Dipper that often and I could clearly remember back a few years to when I learned to recognise it.
Later in the night I was back outside hoping to see some meteors. In the dark I rolled down the driveway toward the road. As I approached I could see a giant inky sky with many chunks of miniature dazzle. And I'm thinking those things are actually bigger than me- bigger than the whole planet I'm standing on. In front of the sky were the trees across the road from our driveway. They were spectacular. I had no idea. A veil before the sky, a wonderful sketch of double darkness framing and supporting the beauty above and beyond.
That's what I'm talkin' about-- that's why I live here, in the woods, miles away from all jobs, with a rusty Ford Escort sucking up the non-existent dollars. Sometimes things are perceived in such a manner that you are comforted by the fact that you are a small part of something much bigger than yourself and simultaneously you are exhilarated to sense the global significance of being part of it all. I didn't say it right- I mean being both smaller and bigger than yourself at once. Anyway, there I was drinking in the sky and it sounded just perfect. Plus the meteors smelled like ice.
And then Liz lent me her glasses. I just got my eyes checked and bought new glasses, but hers beat the heck out of mine. (I gotta have somebody check this prose, I don't know, is it lame or okay?) So her specks throw a good 'nother round or two of clarity on the sky which is already personal and meaningful and solemn. How come my glasses don't work this good? Orion's Bow is so there. So many stars. I'm part of this. I'm crying. I'm small and I'm big all at once.
I was outside in the early evening rolling around. There were these three stars sort of sticking out. I knew they weren't the handle of the Big Dipper, but then a half hour later I knew they were the handle of the Big Dipper and I could see the pointer stars at the end of the bowl directing toward the North Star. And then I could see the Little Dipper. I don't see the Little Dipper that often and I could clearly remember back a few years to when I learned to recognise it.
Later in the night I was back outside hoping to see some meteors. In the dark I rolled down the driveway toward the road. As I approached I could see a giant inky sky with many chunks of miniature dazzle. And I'm thinking those things are actually bigger than me- bigger than the whole planet I'm standing on. In front of the sky were the trees across the road from our driveway. They were spectacular. I had no idea. A veil before the sky, a wonderful sketch of double darkness framing and supporting the beauty above and beyond.
That's what I'm talkin' about-- that's why I live here, in the woods, miles away from all jobs, with a rusty Ford Escort sucking up the non-existent dollars. Sometimes things are perceived in such a manner that you are comforted by the fact that you are a small part of something much bigger than yourself and simultaneously you are exhilarated to sense the global significance of being part of it all. I didn't say it right- I mean being both smaller and bigger than yourself at once. Anyway, there I was drinking in the sky and it sounded just perfect. Plus the meteors smelled like ice.
And then Liz lent me her glasses. I just got my eyes checked and bought new glasses, but hers beat the heck out of mine. (I gotta have somebody check this prose, I don't know, is it lame or okay?) So her specks throw a good 'nother round or two of clarity on the sky which is already personal and meaningful and solemn. How come my glasses don't work this good? Orion's Bow is so there. So many stars. I'm part of this. I'm crying. I'm small and I'm big all at once.
posted by Sean at 8:13 PM
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