Black Holes

The grand starry sky is lovely to behold from this warm corner of the universe. It twinkles and touches us with a tender awe. But when I consider the vast reaches of empty space and blazing extremes, the lovely vistas brought down from Huble's scope seem trifles compared to the fierce silence and gargantuan forces that push galaxies out, out, ever out.

I admire astronomers. Astro-physicists stare at the impersonal beasts that roam the sky, crunching and crashing, blowing up and radiating, and with the patience of love pick through signals that started on their way billions of years ago, all to find a single blip that yields a clearer understanding of this monster that cares about them not at all.

They have come upon the boogie man in my closet. They gleefully study it, a phenomenon that scares the socks off me. Out there, occasionally, a star crunches down, burned out. But it's mass is so great it cannot rest and finally it becomes a well of gravity that pulls everything, even light into its maw, insatiable. They call it a singularity. They call it a black hole.

I believe in light. It is not a phenomenon for me. It is a philosophy. It is my ground of being. Darkness will one day learn light, as hate will one day learn love. Ah, but there's the rub. What of apathy? What of that maw that swallows feeling, all feeling, that doesn't even waste the time of day or night with concern, because after all, what does it matter?

When I face the idea of these grand vacuum cleaners of space, I shiver. And I wonder, is there something beyond them, down inside or through them? Or do they just suck everything down, down, down?

Daffodils are my cure, this week, daffodils and my love's smile. Einstein said that it was not fair. Astronomers and physicists labor mightly to climb the icy crags of theory to carry human understanding up the pinnacles of knowledge. Blasted and exhausted they triumphantly plant their banner of discovery, and looking up find a group of theologians having tea. They'd been there for a while.

I'm a theologian. I have to chew on this one. Perhaps it's my job to look into the darkness and consider, what's in there, and what's beyond. Looking at it that way it's not so creepy. But I still like the daffodils and Chris.