A good friend of mine has had birthday earlier in December 2016 and she didn’t celebrate, so we did so today. We brought her gifts, ate wonderful food and had a really good time together. We laughed a lot and talked about anything and everything. I’m really grateful for that.
I got picked up and while driving to our friends’ home, I watched the night sky. The bright half full moon and several stars (e.g. inside my favorites Orion, its Nebula and the Pleiades). I, again, wished so badly for a telescope to watch them closer. But instead, I had to use my eyes, like always.
While sitting there relaxed and calm, I once again could achieve to wrap my mind around the fact that we’re all just on the surface of a giant habitable (imperfect) ball drifting through space. That the night sky is dark, because of the vast distance between us and everything else around us, and the stars are bright, because they are actual stars burning up their own matter in a fusion reaction – and that they’re not just small bright dots on a dark blue, almost black canvas.
The stars, the interstellar matter – and the void.
Do you know moments like this? When the reality of our own unimportance hits you hard, when everything good and bad which happens here on our planet seems so meaningless, so unimportant, so trifling.
Our everyday problems and worries, not worth the stress at all. Take your time, take it easy. Life is not a race.
Moments like this don’t scare me. When I think about or look at the night sky and the universe I don’t feel afraid or intimidated at all. Of course, they’re formidable, but they also make me extremely happy and give me almost perfect and complete peace and calm. Which is rare enough in my everyday life.
But my everyday life doesn’t matter. My life doesn’t matter. Nothing really matters. At least not in the long run. The universe will continue to do what it has been doing since the Big Bang – no matter what we do to ourselves, each other or our home. The earth will continue to orbit our sun as long as it can, everything will go its way as long as it can. Steadily. Continuously.
I’m very grateful for that, as well. Also for the shooting star I could watch before closing the door of our apartment building. So I made a wish upon that star.
Cherish the things you have. Everything you have, everything you are, everything that surrounds you is star dust in the end. The stars that died in supernovae provided the matter for life as we know it. Cherish the ones you love and those who love you. Everything, as improbable as it may have been, turned out this way so that you can be alive now and live the life you’ve been given.
Now I’ll watch another documentary about the universe and soon go to bed.
So, fpom mì te’lan ayngar livu, ma eylan, ulte hivahaw nìmwey. :)
