I am remembering a recent day at the beach, the afternoon sun, the story of how the light of the sun flashes green on clear calm days as it set beneath horizon. I remember searching for every shell, beautiful or imperfect, broken to shard or whole, I wanted to take every shell home with me. More than that, I wanted to take with me that feeling. I am an atheist. I am also an agnostic. More importantly, I am. The answers I seek, the hope and salvation I reach for, the solace I long for on long nights: all of this is answered by being.
"Never had I been so intensely aware of the shape, the color of the individual leaves, the varied patterns of the veins that made each one unique."
-Jane Goodall
Like every sunset on every horizon, every sea shell washed ashore, every leaf in the Gombi jungle; we are precious in our own pattern, and precious as a piece of the greater pattern. Perhaps, when we are just really and truly ourselves, our own microcosm is in some way the macrocosm itself.
"Never had I been so intensely aware of the shape, the color of the individual leaves, the varied patterns of the veins that made each one unique."
-Jane Goodall
Like every sunset on every horizon, every sea shell washed ashore, every leaf in the Gombi jungle; we are precious in our own pattern, and precious as a piece of the greater pattern. Perhaps, when we are just really and truly ourselves, our own microcosm is in some way the macrocosm itself.
To paraphrase Doctor Who: a once in a billion-billion year event, a super nova, the explosion of an ancient star, a radiating light in this cold universe, it exploded and because of that, you are here, made of star stuff.
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