I picked this picture up while cruising the website- kottke.org (which I highly recommend). It is called Darkened Skies by Thierry Cohen.
It is what the Manhattan skyline would look like if there was no light pollution.
Yes, that’s it, that’s the stuff. The Milky Way, visible at long last. Letting us know who is in charge. We are a point fixed somewhere in one of the arms of this galaxy. A point.
This picture really affects me, because of the perspective it affords me. It simultaneously humbles me, and makes me feel super appreciative that somehow I am here, we are here, this is possible. In truth, it does make me feel more diminutive in relation to the world and the universe, but gives me a boost to think a probabilistic result of the universe expanding involves life as we know it.
Somehow, the night sky that is full of light pollution obscures this vision from my metropolis eyes, and makes me feel safer and less harried by the notion of infinite smallness. That notion is hard to wrap my head around and almost paralyzes me.
What I’m looking for is some sort of self-acceptance in relation to the awe this picture provides me. I need to combat an infinite concept with infinite acceptance.
Does the ignorance that promotes bliss applicable in this sense? Once we pull back the curtain, can we ever go back to what we once knew? Can I be reinserted into the Matrix with no memory of this revelation?
The burden of knowing is always at odds with the reflection of what was lost when we were once held in the warm embrace that being lost provided.
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