I am stardust, and I am no-self.
A wonder-filled, energetic composite of motion and magic.
I am love, a place to call home, a place to take refuge, a place to be me.
I am the man that lives on the hill, who looks after animals, flowers, and the moon.
I am the wind, dancing in the treetops, un-disclosed, playful and private.
One of the amazing things about living in the Mountains is our clear night sky. Looking up on a crisp night, I’m dazzled by the countless stars. Each star we see from Earth is of course like our Sun – a glowing, radiant sphere of unimaginable power. It is only distance that reduces them to their cold, pale, twinkling form.
A constellation is a grouping of stars which, when viewed from Earth, form a perceived outline or pattern. They remind us of a story or an event, a celestial picture-book for the ages. Constellations have major and minor ‘players’, where proximity dictates the visual size we perceive. Looking for patterns, shapes, and stand-out characters, I’m drawn to a metaphor – the constellations of our relationships.
Those major players equate to our closest friends and family, the ones we are in contact with most, engage with most, enjoy the most, trust the most. These are the bright lights of our life, the bonds that make us unique and truly human. Our closest and most intimate people shine for us like the Morning Star, helping us navigate and traverse the human condition.
The minor players are further away, smaller, but essential parts of the big picture. They are the relationships that have not yet developed, or developed as far as they are going to, or have started to recede. They are bright spheres in their own right, suns in their own galaxies, and complement the story being told in yours.
Intricately interconnected. Parts of each other’s stories. Our constellations are our histories, a celestial dance where we are the prima dancer and at the same time the corps de ballet.
You’re a star, baby! We all are.