On clear summer nights, I like to find big empty spaces. Find fields the size of oceans when you lay in its middle and I watch the wind orchestrates ballet dances with runaway leaves.
I lay down with my hood under my head to keep the blood from filling up the narrow spaces inside my skull.
I breathe easy.
My body sinks into grass blades and dandelions. Bugs I don’t even know or can see travel the unknown my body is to thee
I stare straight up to space, transcending my sight past our atmosphere.
I can see higher than the planes.
How far down does the ocean go until it meets the sky, before my eyes can see the world bend?
When we stare straight up into a clear, night sky, we can see infinity.
There is no end.
There is no distinction of space between stars.
We are fitting lightyears between inches.
Every bit of space between me and the moon contains the same elements that constructed the pathways for my blood streams.
I cry out from under my eyes the same ingredients found in the stars, and when Im inspired my mind quivers from inside, sending a rush of energy beneath my bodies surface.
Consciousness is form of communication between us and the universe that our technology can’t yet comprehend. There is no logic or thought to solve its mystery, no quadratic equation and no theory of relativity, no modus tollens and no scientific method.
It’s simply a feeling, an awareness, a recognition of mystery that keeps us noble.
A ability to listen to a heart beat in the midst of a silent moment in light rain.
A feeling of oneness with the world around you, your instinct of the synced-ness of body and mind.
We question our origin
We reason our existence
We breathe to know were alive as well as too live.
A lot of people will tell you that you can find answers inside the stars, that if you stare long enough, mysteries will start to unravel like toilet paper rolls and the gods will show their faces.
Nothing this supernatural is in the stars.
Better than this, there is something supernatural in the act of starring up at the stars. There is a mysticism that wears onto our bodies like pungent perfume and still our necks from moving, while our eyes fixate on on the myriad of twinkles above.
On these night were I lay in the middle of an ocean of grass, my vision elevates past treetops and roofs. Only a panorama shot of the universe from my humble perspective is in view.
And I am no longer anywhere.
I feel the ground but can’t see it, and slowly, I lose my identity. My mind stills and my bodies boundaries dissolve.
I start seeing hundreds of stars beyond my focus. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of tiny dots like sheets of dust that can be found in the waterfalls of sunshine from our windows.
When you look up, everything down stops because your not there to see it move.
For a brief instant: you are nothing, you are selfless, and you are everything
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