It is important to always start at the beginning. When I start at the beginning I think of Nature. I think of me and of you as microscopic eggs and sperm. I think of life as interaction, as vibrance, as constant movement. So when we start at the beginning, we have to pay homage to our creators, our parents, our parents’ parents, and so on. That path goes on until we reach the start of our universe. The very first atom and the very first burst of energy.
Sometimes I think of all of this as a fantasy. As if the things that we know to be true are real life fairy tales. Life before we existed; space before life existed. It’s all very fantastical and yet the realest thing there is. That is the exact emotion I get when I look up at the moon. The moon is so real, and yet so distant, it is hard to comprehend just how it is a part of our world. But theories suggest that a planet the size of Mars crashed into our developing planet and a large chunk broke off: this chunk then orbited the earth, and became our moon. I’m not sure if this is true—of course, how could anyone—but I do know that a large mass of rock orbits our life. That it is pristine and brilliant, because of the reflection of the sun. So I know that the moon—in all the confusion and obfuscation that is daily life—is the realest thing I know. I know that that moon and the gravity that keeps it circling us, and the bright sunshine that illuminates it, are the realest things I know.
There is no question about their existence. And if anyone tried to challenge them, I’d have testimony from my own eyes.
So I love the moon and the sun and gravity, for its honesty. Honesty is so rare in this life and this world. And so is the fantastical reality of the moon. I love it. I am in love with it.