I’ve always been fascinated with stars and everything celestial. Give me a blanket and a bed of grass and I could lie under the night sky forever. Yet forever seems like an exaggeration. I’m impatient and messy with my time.
On a moonless and cloudless night in Daunt Gyi village, in all my self-centeredness, I felt as though God made all the stars for me alone. And when I concentrate long enough, it all blurs… like what your eye does when you blow into an ant colony and try your hardest to focus your vision. It’s probably absurd to compare the Milky Way to an ant colony. And it’s more absurd to think that it’s all for me.
But that was how it felt like. Aloneness (yet not alone). Centeredness. It’s when I catch a glimpse of the massive Milky Way, I see how close we are to one each other. And how we’re made for one another. (I say catch because when it comes, hold on to it because it’s fleeting.) An ocean, a time zone, miles and kilometers, geography, skin color and personal descriptions are all ambiguous at best. This is a mere sip from a drop of galaxy in a soup of swirling and colliding galaxies that is the universe.
But how good this tastes. It invites me to drink deeper.