A month of strain
Arriving in November with
a bit of dogged insomnia, I literally spent the hours of reluctant wakefulness
thinking about the month that had just passed. If I did not have a memory or a penchant for dates, seasons, and anniversaries, it probably would not have
mattered.
For a long time,
October was mainly a month of many celebrations, first of births of at least 10
in family and relations, then a wedding anniversary and four years ago added a
death that doubled in the past week.
Not that I want to
attach anything to a month, for time is more a structure for the reckoning of
humanity that exists in a framework of unfathomable eternal past and future,
the present being a sliding indicator on the scale of our limitless universe.
Significance in
insignificance
The vastness beyond
our world where the light of stars probably extinct long ago still appears to
us in expanses of lightyears is just awesome. We are both significant here and
almost insignificant as we attempt to chart galaxies we can only imagine exist
but can’t reach limited by the knowledge and expertise we deploy in that research.
We lay our footprints
in the sands of time and in the memories of how the relationships we forged are
remembered for good or for bad. Yet, we only have the present with us as we
progress into a future near and far with the hope that whatever becomes our
stories are evidenced in having made the telling of them better. Welcome to November
2020 and the wonder it holds.
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