Across the Universe

All my favorite people read my blog, but they never comment. They let me know in little ways (or in obvious ways) when I see them in person by working in details from posts past. The ones that knew me in another lifetime tell me they see the pieces of myself that I hide in person, because I list them all here, sooner or later. Here I am, in this long white room, spinning my soul into words in my solitude, and all the while they are looking on. I am glad to have them, to have you, my favorite people. I suppose sometimes, it is better that I forget.

The stars were out in full bloom tonight. Orion's belt stopped its gleaming long enough for the rest of his silhouette to come into view, feet planted, bow drawn, arrow poised. Just as I looked up to observe him, he shot a star across the sky, just for me. A band of clouds stumbled into the Milky Way, blurring miles into light years, now into eternity, our world into the vast everything. Suns scattered across the sky, and if you squint, you can see a thousand more. The sky, my friend, my immense and ever-surprising but sacramentally familiar friend. I laid in the grass, between our whirring inflatable Frosty and Santa, to take it all in. When I was younger, I would lay flat and spread my arms out and feel the earth lurching beneath me, reeling into the blackness, but tonight, I couldn't feel the motion. It is a shame, getting older, a shame when wonder becomes a discipline.

I want to live free and wide open. I want to wade in rivers. I want to break all the rules, and I want to laugh. I want to throw all my currencies to the wind, money, appearances, charm, impressiveness, to the wind, and I want to live. I want to live with the earth, close to the earth, in the grass, in the dirt, with the worms, I want to know it, to live with it, without any separateness. I want to be among it, to lie prostrate on the earth and breathe it in. I want to breathe everything in.

I live in cages. Cages and cages of cages. Jennifer Styles Whitson, your jar is open.