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A good night for sky-gazing. Staring up into the sky, trying hard not to stumble on the curb while I'm falling up, drawn by the deep above me. 5 satellites in half an hour, all speeding north. A handful of meteors, going every which way. Clouds blowing high and fluffy from the west, getting the moon to blink at me. The half-moon itself still bright enough to backlight the clouds, and highlight the fresh contrail one high-arcing jet cut while I watched.
There's something simultaneously amazing and disorienting, to lie flat on your back and stare up at the biggest, flattest panorama you can ever see. Up and down switch frequently, the foreground and background swapping places. How the ancients ever saw those skies as a singular, flat bowl... I simply cannot understand. How someone today cannot look up there and not understand hope and wonder... I don't want to know.
I am struggling to understand this pervasive feeling I have had today of being something, someone transformed. No, someone transforming, as if I were ensconced within a pupa, a chyrsalis, and awaiting the right time to break out. This last week I've joked that I'll look back on my 29th year and write it off as My Worst Year, and that's true. The depression, the divorce, the layoff. But that would be disregarding, and discarding, some amazing things from this time, as well. The true and honest love of friends, the freedom of solitude, waking to deep comprehension.
This year is not done, nor am I done with these changes. I have been aware of the alterations and shakeups taking place inside my head, while I appear mostly the same on the outside. But today I had the first inkling of some kind of new form, some sort of new structure to myself, to my self. Maybe I can look back at this year of my life, instead nodding, and say this was the year I cut free, and I learned to fly. That at last, I started to live.
There's something simultaneously amazing and disorienting, to lie flat on your back and stare up at the biggest, flattest panorama you can ever see. Up and down switch frequently, the foreground and background swapping places. How the ancients ever saw those skies as a singular, flat bowl... I simply cannot understand. How someone today cannot look up there and not understand hope and wonder... I don't want to know.
I am struggling to understand this pervasive feeling I have had today of being something, someone transformed. No, someone transforming, as if I were ensconced within a pupa, a chyrsalis, and awaiting the right time to break out. This last week I've joked that I'll look back on my 29th year and write it off as My Worst Year, and that's true. The depression, the divorce, the layoff. But that would be disregarding, and discarding, some amazing things from this time, as well. The true and honest love of friends, the freedom of solitude, waking to deep comprehension.
This year is not done, nor am I done with these changes. I have been aware of the alterations and shakeups taking place inside my head, while I appear mostly the same on the outside. But today I had the first inkling of some kind of new form, some sort of new structure to myself, to my self. Maybe I can look back at this year of my life, instead nodding, and say this was the year I cut free, and I learned to fly. That at last, I started to live.
