I was reading Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird and I related to the idea of writing on what is directly in front of you. Then this blog post from Charlie at Productive Flourishing that brought the world into perspective through a one inch frame:
At one point, I happened to look up. Above me were some once familiar friends who were now strangers to me. The city lights and 
busyness of modern living had made the night just another time, but without all of those artifacts, and by complete chance, I looked up. The moon was hiding behind the Earth, so the only light to be seen came from the untold billions of stars shining back down at us.
The band of the Milky Way showed its faint light, and along the band, I saw collections of stars that I knew made the outline of constellations. I used to be able to name them and tell stories about them, but now all I could do was gesture towards them. They were there, waving at me – pulling at my imagination, whispering their tales to me; yet I could not hear their words or see their faces.
We took a while to take in the breathless beauty of the night’s sky and watch shooting stars streak across the blue-black expanse. We imagined living two or three thousand years ago, before science and before you could just run inside and turn a light on.
Every night, those friends would be there, and what many of us don’t often think about is that the landscape of the night changes. Five of the lights walk around fairly obviously; in time, we came to know them as the planets of Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn. The constellations shift through the seasons, so being born “under a sign” quite literally meant that you were born when one of the constellations was overhead. And every night, some of the lights streak across the sky and fade into brilliant nothingness.
In many ways, the night sky is more foreign to us than it was to our ancestors. We know about it – but it’s neither as familiar or as wondrous as it was then. You can’t help but look up at the night sky without being wonderstruck, and, for our ancestors, the lack of explanations birthed tales of gods and spirits. Not having an explanation for what they were seeing was just unacceptable, since they were as familiar with it as we are of gravity. Human curiosity is something that will always remain – I hope – but the questions we ask are different.
What is right in front of you?
To read the whole post that offers additional food for thought and a great reflective tune, go here.
Tags: Books, perfect in nature
