Rebecca Myers: Rearranging stardust
A field of wheat grows by the grace and light of a nearby star. Such luck. The good earth, compressed ball of decomposing stardust, spins tightly, pulling rain down from the sky. We are rooted to the ground, heads inching towards that opening from which all life descends and to which all life returns.
The iron in my blood formed in the last few seconds in the life of an unnamed red giant star, lost and rearranged. Iron in the core signaled the star’s imminent collapse and explosion. The compression and then the casting of all the elements are the seeds of my breath, the seeds of this earth.
I have consumed the wheat, the soil, the water, all of these gifts, searching for the rarest smallest pieces of my nature without understanding why. Gold and silver, the diamond core of the dead star, and the sunlight, the starlight, are not just shiny. They are the shiniest pieces of me.
I don’t get to know all the external interactions that will play out over eternity. They mesh right now with this instance of me. Electrons rearranging within me form these thoughts. Electrons rearranging around me form this universe and this intersection with my limited consciousness. These “processes” have a mass and a mind all their own, beyond the scope of my imagining. Yet somehow, miraculously, I exist right here, right now.
And this is magic, an illusive beauty that I try over and over again to recreate in my words and in my art. What I see matters just as much as my survival. One painting of a wheat field shining in the sun, frozen in time. One poem about love. I am trying, like so many others, to understand.
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At some point I will cease and be rearranged into another. For myself and that next other, I am looking for and edging closer and closer to the truth. I stand in appreciation, in awe, in fact, of this particular rearrangement of stardust.
Rebecca Myers of Grass Valley is a freelance writer and graphics designer. You can find her website at https://rsbreit.com/
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