Sometimes, as I lay under a clear night sky, I will imagine I’m a star letting the quiet absorb the sound of my flames. I begin to feel the loneliness of it. The sheer desperation to connect burns so bright inside me that I am like a flashlight searching across the universe for someone to notice me.
I notice you.
I start to count the stars in the sky and whisper “I see you”. I notice them from the small amount of universe I occupy. And then I smile to myself, feeling silly for giving the stars human emotion.
And then I think about Earth. The spot I am laying on. How magnificently large it is and how sturdy and stable and reliable and yet…
How strange it is that I am so obliviously dependent on the speed at which the ground beneath me spins. How night and day are separated by this rotation. How oceans churn and how the land inhales and exhales inside the atmosphere it has created.
And I feel small.
I am helplessly reliant on such a small thing for existence.
I feel like the star.
I am a flash of light desperately seeking to be seen by something much bigger than the universe around me. I seek assurance that my reality isn’t governed by a chaotic mishap of perfect conditional circumstance.
I lie there invisible to the insensate reality I call home and I am in awe.
Without my ability to consciously perceive I would not care about the spinning of the earth or the miracle of my being. I would not care about falling in love. About creating kindness. Or about humanity or the meaning of life.
I feel small but my sentience makes me feel important.
I am a living star.
Something out there…