Stardust

I've got a resolution this year. It's the same one I had last year, and the year before that. And every year so far, I've managed to succeed. I don't mean a resolution in the 'go to the gym more' sense, but rather as an outlook on life. Any more, it is a standing goal rather than a resolution. Every year, I resolve to understand more about this world, and my place in it. Every year I leave knowing more than I did about myself, about others, and about the world I inhabit.

Recently, I've been struggling with some of the issues that beset many at this stage in life. Many big changes are coming, and I can only hope I'm ready. There's so much to be sure is done, and so little time to do so. Am I really ready? What if I'm not? Then there's my social situation, which has admittedly stagnated slightly, mostly by my own hand.

The other night I was mulling many of these issues over in my head, and couldn't sleep. In my restlessness, I decided to go for a drive up Mount Lemmon, a relatively large mountain in the Catalinas that peaks about 5,000 feet above Tucson metro. It is home to multiple world-class observatories, and is a pretty drive in its own right. It's also dark, and you can easily loose yourself in the wilderness, making it a great place to think.

This particular night, the moon was new, so it was almost pitch black as I drove up the mountain save for my headlights. About 3/4 of the way to the top of the mountain, I stopped at a pull out on the road that overlooked a valley to take in the view.

While there, I took a moment to look up at the stars above me. This is something I've done many times before (though this was probably one of the finer nights of doing so), but something was different this time. As I looked up at the vast expanse of stars and space above me, something clicked. Not in the a-ha! sense, but rather that I became intimately aware of just how big it all was.

In that moment, I became aware that I was viewing the light of stars millions of years old. I was looking into our universe as it existed millennia before I did. I was looking towards civilizations that have risen, fallen, and risen again hundreds of times over since the light that I was now viewing at the top of a mountain left its source.

We are one planet of nine eight in our solar system, and our solar system is one of countless others in the Milky Way galaxy, which is in turn one of many more other galaxies in our universe. Trillions upon trillions upon trillions of stars and planets, each proceeding in its own way in the universe. There is no doubt in my mind that there is other life out there, manifesting in ways we cannot comprehend on planets that exceed our wildest imaginations.

And, in that moment, my problems just didn't feel that big anymore. Out of all time that has passed, out of each galaxy, each star, and each planet, I somehow came to be there at that moment. Against impossible odds, I manifested out of the same chaos that created the nebulas, stars, planets, and even the other life that I now viewed. Impossibly long odds that the planet I now stood upon existed at all, never mind my own existence upon it. Suddenly, worrying about what I would do in May seemed trivial.

I didn't solve any problems that night, but they were definitely put into perspective. Employment and romance have been a subject of human suffering interest for a long time, and not for the wrong reasons.  But maybe that's not the point. Maybe having lots of money, a secure job, and a perfect relationship isn't the only way to be, or even the best way.

I looked up that night and realized that my problems, seemingly big to me, were very small in the grand scheme of what surrounded me. The stars were not concerned with my relationships, and the planets were not troubled with grad school letters. And while this may sound somewhat dismal, to me it was liberating. To realize that, at the end of it all, a single event just isn't that big of a deal. What really matters is how I use the summation of time that I've got here.

I hope to see mankind reach into the stars during my lifetime, that we may some day see these countless and fascinating worlds with our own eyes. And in the meantime, I intend to continue to better myself with the knowledge that no matter how bad some things may seem, I am the product of impossible odds. I am all at once tiny in the grand scheme of things, and yet there is not another like me out there, anywhere.

And being that rare has to count for something.