Imagine a bright star against the night sky. Now imagine that image altered by a photo-editing tool. The sky no longer looks black, more like an array of purple and blue pixels. But the star, it stays the same – bright and illuminated.
When I see how tiny this star looks from where I stand, knowing how very large it actually is, my grandiose illusion of myself is quickly right-sized. I get that same sensation when I fly on an airplane, and the earth, with all her possessions, becomes increasingly smaller as the plane goes higher.
One particular plane ride comes to mind.
Just before one of the cars below became smaller than the tip of a needle, I remembered once having an argument with someone while driving in a car. The contrast between the vanishing view of this car, and how tremendous the argument felt at the time, humbled my perception of how things really are.
When I have these moments of realizing things aren’t always exactly what they seem, or as threatening as they appear, my shoulders tend to relax, and my breathing becomes easier; I’m inclined to seize fighting the small stuff, and put my sword down for the day.
I must admit, though, it’s a plot twist to know I am insignificant in the big scheme of things, yet I am also made of stardust. I am a small person composed of particles from humongous stars – no wonder my pendulum swings between being nothing, and everything.
I am all, and I am nothing. I love paradox.