Tuesday, February 10

Murakami's version of the stars

"After a simple dinner I go out on the porch and gaze up at the stars twinkling above, the random scattering of millions of stars. Even in a planetarium  you wouldn't find this many. Some of them look really big and distinct, like if you reached your hand out intently you could touch them. The whole thing is breathtaking. 
 Not just beautiful, though- the stars are like the trees in the forest, alive and breathing. And they're watching me. What I've done up till now, what I'm goind to do-they know it all. Nothing gets past their watchful eyes. As I sit there under the shining night sky, a violent fear takes hold of me. My heart's pounding a mile a minute, and I can barely breathe. All these millions of stars looking down on me, and I've never given them more than a passing thought before. Not just stars- how many other things haven't I noticed in the world, things I know nothing about? I suddenly feel helpless, completely powerless."

How do you put into words a feeling so complex and universal?
Except, when I get lucky to stand under a sky filled with stars I regain a sense of wonder, I get pulled into the magic of life and wish that no matter where I was at night I could peek into that sort of sky, not only for the view, but for a refill of the spirit. And everything seems possible, and it seems silly to be mad, or to be anxious, or to doubt myself. If the stars are up there, crammed together, sitting beautifully looking over everything, then I can keep on going doing whatever it is I'm doing even if it's hard, even if it feels impossible.

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