Credits to ShittyWatercolour
When I looked up at the sky and for the first time considered the vast cosmic ocean that laid beyond, I was humbled while a wave of excitement overwhelmed me. The idea of space and its unlimited nature was stunning. It was beautiful. The realization of its existence opened up a new window to look at the world I found myself in. The view was lovely and for awhile, everything was elemental and untainted.
I thought of all the sands of all the beaches on Earth put together, and then compared the grain of one to the infinite mass. With that grain of sand, I proceeded to imagine something one-thousandth its size. In my head, that thing was a gross underestimation of Earth compared to the rest of the Universe.
For the next few days, the only thought that flitted through my head was of one topic, religion. The unbounded world which contained mine was the thing that led to me denouncing my religion. It suddenly seemed highly implausible that the Earth and the Sun and the Moon were created in 6 days while the creation of infinity went undocumented. And so, I got done with that whole business very quickly.
The most marvelous and notable thing that happened was that my realization inspired me to dream about the great and unconquerable beyond. In the words of Douglas Adams, it was actually strange to be anything at all. It was a queer feeling when I realized how everything was what it is because of chance. Carl Sagan taught me that we were all made of star-stuff, and that the atoms that we and the world around us are made of was produced in the hot furnaces in stars. This was because when stars die, they will explode and send their enriched guts of elements more complex than hydrogen and helium scattering across the Universe.
And just by luck, I and everything that I have observed and experienced came to be.
It was awhile after that I thought about the following: the Universe is infinite, and if the mind can comprehend this, is the mind also infinite? If the mind itself is infinite, does that mean that space exists in a metaphysical world can be compressed into a highly flawed and confined physical space?
Here's another thing about space: when it opens a new window for you to look at life, it changes how you look at literature as well. Books became this bizarre and odd little thing that carried obscure symbols that had no value to anybody other than ourselves. The worlds that are conjured up by certain books suddenly seemed so plausible and real as well. Given the enormity of space, does there not exist a small chance that science fiction worlds are somewhere out there?
I've also been able to better appreciate metaphors that involve the cosmos. My favourite metaphor to space was composed by the scientist Lawrence Krauss. I am unable to quote what the said, but I will paraphrase it in my own rugged and unpoetic way:
You and the world inside your head exists as a planet. In this planet, everything is well and everything is right. Things make sense and things seem to be right where they are supposed to be. When you happen to like someone, you'll decide to see what things are like on her planet. You'll decide to take the plunge, bravely, foolishly even. You leave your planet, and you leave yourself vulnerable to the cold and harsh darkness of the universe. When you look back, you realize that its far too late to turn back and that the only way to go was towards her planet. As you approach this foreign planet, you're greeted by this immense feeling of warmth and fuzziness. The world around you is foreign, but pleasant and lovely. Over the course of your visit, you've noticed things in her world that are absent in yours, and you realize that should you start to live without those things, you will quickly feel as if your world will no longer be complete.
And that's how space can be used to explain love and falling in it. Though now that I think about it, it seems like anybody needs to understand space to understand the damned metaphor.
Whenever I've felt down or bogged down by the motions of life, I just have to look up and remind myself that we are all part of something bigger, and our the issues in our lives are trivial when compared to everything that is.
+ Show Spoiler [personal note] +
I originally wrote pieces of the blog in my notebook, and pieced them together today. I understand that it's a deeply flawed piece of work, but blogs are what blogs are - thoughts of the imperfect mind. And of course, I had to end the blog with a poem. I feel like such a try-hard.