Wednesday, May 31, 2006

Light Years Before Dreaming

Each night when I lay down to sleep, I disturb the air with my bedding. I inadvertently send lint and dust particles flying through the air. I know this because I see them against the dark background of my wall in the intense beam of light that descends from my halogen ceiling lamp. These particles float and mingle in the air currents. Sometimes I watch them. They shine like stars. They are multiple colors. Some of them blink like pulsars; others only exist as a momentary flash- a micronova.

Perhaps our universe exists as the result of a cosmic settling down of sorts. Perhaps we are the last thought before dreaming. If we were to view ourselves from afar, we might look exactly like this micro-universe I am observing.

My curiosity gets the best of me. I reach out to try to touch one of these shimmering particles. Though I reach slowly, the particles react violently. They swirl around in this new air current. My gentle reach contains all the violence of a black hole. Of course, I cannot touch the particle I originally targeted. It has changed its course. I have lost it in this dust galaxy.

Something else happens. Suddenly, I can no longer see my stars. The reflection of the light’s beam off my hand is too intense. This bright light on such a large surface prevents me from seeing the complex galaxy that I just disturbed.

I realize that as humans, we do this all the time. We reach out with our curiosity and our egos as we constantly reflect upon ourselves. How beautiful would the universe appear if we could see it without blinding ourselves with our own existence?

1 comment:

unknown said...

To me the universe is most beautiful while viewing nigh with human eyes, for with these alone is anything of this particular nature possessed, from which beauty has any value whatever. I recall Brakhage attempted to conceive of an eye outside of his own humanity—he was misguided in that and produced an absurdity of the eye. Moreover, he thought of the camera as an eye, and here too was misguided, for in actuality it is a network of whatever we make into it, whose contents have no direct relation to its import. In other words, he overlooked the aesthetic relation of a sensorium between a (in this case, mechanical) production. All we touch is effected, the nature of which is beyond comprehension, but we too are touched and affected in the selfsame manner and should not be too hasty in delivering an estimation of this alteration that reaches down into what comprises our very being and ways of life. Dreams are at any rate the semblance of semblance.

These are commentaries that came to and struck me as I read your lovely and interesting post.