The Thrum of Your Heart

I heard Neil deGrasse Tyson discussing the development of the universe and the way matter pushed out from the center. Our bones are constructed of the same atoms that created the sun and Jupiter and the worms beneath our feet. We are literal stardust. There is something comforting in the idea that the universe holds our place; any separation we feel is fabricated, a myth we perpetuate because our own consciousness pleads our superiority and individuality. What a terrible, terrible construct to feel separate; what a horrific crime against the potential of humanity.

And if the atoms which erupted from the center of the universe created some semblance of order from chaos, then we are not separate from that order. We belong here. You belong here.

There is so much noise now. Palestinians are being murdered while we gaze upon the genocide, seemingly incapable of meaningful action. The planet is warmer this month than it was last. Donald Trump runs for president yet again and he seems to be leading the race. We look at our countrymen and see only difference and that which divides.

And yet I meet people every day with whom I find commonality. Though the traveler who worked beside me this week waxed poetic about her deeply held beliefs that all fetuses are living, sacred souls regardless of their gestational age, we agreed upon far more than we disagreed. The day sped by in conversation, in getting to know one another, and despite a difference in opinion around abortion, I think we mostly liked one another. The day was joyful and giving and I left fulfilled.

And if I look inward in any meaningful kind of way, I also know that she is no stranger. She, too, is stardust. And on a grand scale, if we are all constructed of the same organic material, if we are all products of that initial ignition, is there any degree of separation between us at all? If we recognize in the person across from us not a separate entity but an extension of ourselves, then there is no longer room for hatred and there is only space for listening, kindness, empathy, and connection.

Our time here is so short and there is so much noise. I yearn so desperately to turn it down and to listen to the thrumming of the atoms that compose this temporary form--to hear their resonance and the way they seem to shout that I am just one small whisper of a symphony. I am one wave in a long tide, crashing on the beach, and returning yet again to the center of things. I want to remember, despite this individual form, that I belong to you and you belong to me and the blades of grass that dampen my footstep and the ants which work tirelessly in the hot summer sun and the murderous monster who killed my neighbors are inextricably tied to my own humanity.

I want to be capable of empathy for those who have done heinous wrongs. I want to feel the pain of their victims and their loved ones. I want to whisper in the ears of all the new souls who have joined us that this is a beautiful place; that it can be painful and tough and lonely but it is also full of wondrous beauty, fragrant flowers in the spring time, the brush of long grass against your thighs, and delightful bodies made for a myriad of machinations.

I want to love each of you intentionally and aggressively and ceaselessly because to do otherwise would be to forget that we are all stardust. We are on a marvelous journey together, a set of waves tumbling toward the coast, mustering all the speed and voracity we can before we crash, yet again, on the coast.

Listen quietly now. The thrum of your heart (there it is again, do you hear it?) is the remnant of the cosmos. If we are still enough, we might hear the echo of that first blast and the smallest of whispers echoing over and over again that our place is amongst the stars.