Looking at the night sky, one might wonder how important one relationship with one person really is. There are solid arguments for the significance of a personal relationship, for the elevation of that relationship above all else. A more nihilistic, fatalistic person could say that hell, as fancy as you dress it up, it exists for the most primordial of reasons: The procreation of our species.
By now, of course, you can assume that I mean a romantic relationship.
Still looking at the night sky, one can wonder a host of things. This is why observing the cosmos was, and still is, one of the most spontaneous and enjoyable pastimes that we cherish as human beings. It teaches us how small we and our problems are and an insight on what the meaning of permanence and impermanence really is. Looking at the night sky is any deity of your choosing’s gift to us. It teaches us compassion for other human beings too. It is, of course, a glimpse into the past, into the oldest things in the entire universe, of the most eternal things. Not only are we little, we also have very small lifespans. Stars, despite their million year lifespans, also die eventually. And yet, we still see their legacy, the light that shone a million years ago, the light that traveled all the way to us, at last.
One relationship, which only starts as two strangers getting to know one another, is important. We are naturally social creatures. Like the apes. Whether or not you believe the empirical scientific evidence given to us through tremendous and painstaking research, I believe that our ancestors from prehistoric times were also social. One relationship with another is important because it satisfies and affirms our natural states.
The sky is black. Everything is, up in space. And outer space is black.
Space is nothing. It’s actually not nothing, there are a few atoms of certain elements floating around for every cubic foot of space, but other than that, there is nothing. From nothing, springs everything.
The notion that there is nothing is daunting for people because to them, the world is filled with pretty much everything. But outside the world, there is seemingly nothing.
I suppose, that subjectivity is the heart of it all. Subjectivity is also what makes us human. It is what makes us geniuses in all our own rights. My opinion is, space is nothingness, and that has a meaning to it. I think it’s good that the universe has ‘nothing’ contained in it, because if the universe was filled with say, all light or all worlds, there would be nothing to compare our world, our light, or our moon or sun, with. How can there be light without dark?
Nothing, to me, is a refuge. An infinite island of peaceful solitude. There is nothing more lovely than infinite nothingness. In all the bedlam of life, even the most social of animals need some quiet time with the stars.
Whether its in a leafy glade next to a creek…
Or a wide meadow next to a river.
I often wonder why the sky is so beautiful to us. Then I remind myself that we are made of stars. They are our mother, our father, from many, many, many past lives. Maybe that’s why we gravitate toward the notion of stars as our ancestors watching over us. The mere image of starshine, of moonlight, of the sun, brings out awe and a sense of belonging in us, not unlike the feeling we got when, as children, we saw our mothers. Remember, as a child, when you got lost in a grocery store and your mother was nowhere to be found? And then, with tears in your eyes, when you finally found her, the sense of relief was so great, that your tears dried up immediately? That’s the same feeling I get when I see the starry sky, sometimes.
The thing is, both a rich businessman and a poor homeless man can feel the gravitas of the stars. The great astronomy that revolves around us every day. Sometimes I think it’s a shame, though, that the homeless man is too poor to love it and appreciate it, and the businessman is too rich to care. (This, of course, is a black and white perception. I was recently taught how to see the shade of gray. I’m pretty sure there are many, many, many of us who have the where-with-all to see the stars and the money to make our beliefs and aspirations known. This blog post is for them).
Love, too. It’s written in the stars. Think about it: sex, falling in love, slow, painful subsiding of love’s lust, or eventual supernovae, which is the death of love, or heartbreak – it is, and ever will be, written in the stars. Because I believe, since we are made of stars, we embody the very nature of them too.
A star chemically reacting to other elements in the universe – that is the chemical reaction of saratonin and dopamine to create oxytocin, which takes place in our brains, which we all colloqially call ‘love’. It’s all science. Red and blue and purple matter colliding together until something happens – isn’t that what love essentially is?
And then, there’s binary stars. They are like those two lovers who can’t see each other. Either they’re afraid, because they are so much in love, or are just having an affair and can’t see each other, but gravitate towards one another all the same, towards the center of their gravitational pull, for all time until mortality fails.
Sometimes, for some people, their time is rather spent skirting around the issue, like a binary star searching forever for its partner, circling and circling but never touching their heart. They both revolve around each other – they could even be mistaken for one – in the end, they have not joined because of a fear or a special tweak of gravity that keeps them apart.
So an actual love affair between two humans – they catch one another’s eye. They sense a flaming ball of energy is there. The earth is round, and the sun is round, and the moon and the core of the earth too, is round. I think the infinity and the imperfect perfection that is implied by the sphere is conducive to what love should be. Not structured and square and conventional like a cube. Not mechanical. But cyclical and unexpected, like roaming around the earth, which, made evident by the Greek mathemetician Pythagoras was round, and verified by Christopher Colombus too, by accident.
Someone told me once that love is not a scenario in which two people face one another head on, but rather walk parallel to each other, side by side.
Let me consider: if two planes intersect with two given variables, then they face head on. Or… love=1 path +2 people divided by the factorial of the square root of them walking…
(By the way, for those of you a bit awkward or shy or whatever, this kind of analysis will lead to paralysis. Simply put, if you try to think of love in terms of mathematics, you are already leading yourself down a bad path. I beseech you, do not do this).
In any case, love is not math. It can’t be calculated. It’s closer to physics, and even then we can’t explain it. Don’t try to. Just look at the stars and appreciate that we are living because of their light. Life is a bunch of matter floating in space, waiting to collide.
Here is a link to a YouTube video of one of Sun Ra’s most beautiful songs, called ‘Tapestry from an Asteroid’ off his LP We Travel the Spaceways. In fact, let me post a few more songs from this album. It’s just so hot, man!