Equinox

Planets are too large to put into any category that makes sense in our daily normality. The words immense, huge, gigantic are descriptive only in poetic terms. They do little to give meaning to these immense, huge, gigantic chunks of stuff that sail through the silence at speeds that are just as meaningless as immense, huge, and gigantic, held close to the light by reins of force that transcend our understanding. Some who study and compute have descriptive concepts attended by numbers and squiggles that do little to allow us to make sense of it all. Oh, now we understand, we say. No, we don’t. All we have is a description in another language. But the chunks of stuff, including the one we live on, sail on beyond our understanding. Twice a year the planet where we live comes to a place of equal shadow and light. Our ancestors that didn’t have our sophistication (in other words no numbers and squiggles) took these moments to be full of potential and possibility, as anything that’s balanced does. They understood with their awe the size and power of the chunk of stuff that made this happen. They knew that they were small and vulnerable. They also knew that important things happened on this day. My favorite is the possibility of balancing eggs on end. (If you never saw it, try it. Then try it again). The older I get the more I find myself advancing away from the silly arrogance of scientific descriptions. I don’t disbelieve them. But they are so inadequate with their squiggles and numbers. Even if all of that really made sense to me, those computations can’t touch the size and shape of these chunks of rock, their speed, or the powers that move them. I find myself looking into the night sky, feeling the living power of the beast on which I ride. My hand rests in the grass, its fur, and I know again humility.