Good Heavens

Yesterday night before going to sleep, for some reason I was struck with the strong urge to look up in the sky and observe the moon and the stars. Maybe it was because of a conversation I had earlier, about how the stars you see actually died millions of years ago but their light is just now reaching us. I don't know.

Anyways, it wasn't that great of a stargazing night, plus I was tired so I went to sleep soon after, but the subject hasn't left my mind since then. Something about staring into the night sky triggers a weird but good emotion inside me. I'm a pretty rational, scientific person by most standards, but there's many times when I feel a very intangible side of being human too.

It's hard to explain these kinds of surreal feelings in words, or why I have them. I think we were born with an inherent need to experience the things of nature. At least to some extent, we have a part of us that craves and desires to escape from society, however briefly, and take solace in the larger world outside. I personally have been wishing for a chance to maybe spend time alone by the ocean or something like that, to just gather my thoughts and enjoy the world around me for a few moments.

The thing is, most of us live and work in the city or suburbs, and we're surrounded by people and all sorts of media pretty much from the time we wake up until the time we go to sleep. Between our jobs, the social lives we lead, and all the other things we fill our time with, certain things get lost or forgotten in the midst of all the busy-ness.

Don't get me wrong - I like my job, I love all my friends and family, and I would never trade my city/suburban life for any other. I mean, without a job to work at, and without relationships, life to me would be pretty meaningless. And as far as urban life goes, I appreciate it for what it is. There have been many memories throughout my life when I have felt so awed by the sight of a big city. Like admiring the Chicago skyline any time I drive on Lake Shore Drive. Arriving at the Las Vegas strip for the first time. Looking out the window of the 747 as I left Taipei a few years ago. Or standing on the deck of a boat, in the harbor outside Hong Kong, staring at all the lights and many beautifully architectured buildings at night.

I guess what I'm saying is, even with all I have in my life, something about me as a human being elicits a strong desire to experience things that are greater than what man can make or provide.

The Chicago skyline is so impressive and great to me, but when I see the infinite number of stars in the sky, or stand on the shore of a giant ocean, everything else seems so insignificant and unworthy of comparison. And when I think about how many millions or billions of galaxies are out there, how many billions of years or more that they've existed before I was even conceived, it's a very humbling experience.

It's an annoying cliche that I try to avoid, but this kind of experience tends to "put things in perspective" for me. When I work hard to achieve goals, and list my own accomplishments, it's easy sometimes to feel like I'm something really special and important, as if it's my world and everyone else is just living in it. It's times like these when I really need to be humbled the most.

I'm reminded that the world doesn't revolve around me. That all the things I absorb myself with in my life, the things I focus all my attention on, and seem so vitally important to me, are only a very tiny part of the larger whole. And that ultimately, whether I live, die, succeed or fail in the things I do, the universe and all that's in it will go on.

You'd think that this would be a discouraging thought, like I'm just a mere little individual and my life doesn't really matter in the grand scheme of things. But actually, deep down I feel strangely peaceful, knowing that I could mess up my life in the worst possible way imaginable and the universe won't care one bit.

Okay, so I don't really mean that last part. That's a pretty twisted way of looking at things. But I do take comfort in these thoughts because in a way they affirm my belief in God, that he is in control of everything, and not me.

It's like when you're a little kid, the feeling of knowing that whatever happens, your mom and dad will always be there, loving you and taking care of you all the way. It's a sense of security, but so much deeper than that. Well, by now I am more or less independent of my parents, but I refuse to believe that I am on my own, or that I am the highest being of them all. I still have a strong need to look above myself, to God who watches over me in everything I do. Knowing that I'm in control of my own life, but God is in control overall, is a very settling thought for me.

Some of you reading are probably thinking I'm crazy. "How does he get all that from looking at stars?!" The answer is, I don't know. Like I said before, human nature is so intangible and hard to explain in words. I may not know exactly why I enjoy looking at the stars or watching the waves of an ocean, but I do know that these things satisfy a part of me that other things in my life cannot.

I don't wish to quit my job, move to unsettled land in Canada, build a cabin in the wilderness and hunt for food. But I think I need at least some feeling of being in touch with nature, beyond the routine of daily/weekly/monthly life that I'm starting to settle into. Like the guy in Office Space said, "Human beings were not meant to be caged up like animals in cubicles and stare at computer screens all day." We weren't meant to simply watch TV, play golf, and drink beer the rest of the day when we get home from work either. Not that those things are bad, but too much of it ends up being just a jumble of distractions that clouds your mind and soul.

So I don't know what I'm gonna do, if anything at all. Maybe I should get a telescope and read up about astronomy. Or maybe I just need a vacation or a break from the routine. Anyone out there feel like going camping and looking at stars? I think now I'm just babbling on. Well anyways... I'll figure something out eventually.