Friday, May 27, 2011
The harder they fall
There are so many things I want to write about today. I'm thinking about the B flat that's 57 octaves lower than what we know as middle C, the deepest note yet detected in the universe. This big ole honkin' B flat is part of the music of black holes, phenomena that we once thought of as massive vacuum cleaners. What we once believed is that there was only one thing black holes do: suck. Now we know that energy and matter do indeed go in to black holes, but stuff comes out, too - totally transformed by the experience I might add.
We "know." What am I saying? Should have said, our newest narrative includes a whole lot more than what we once believed. Everything, it seems, is much more complicated than we can imagine. I'm wondering if it's possible for humans to sense when one of those waves passes through the earth. I wonder if Gaia feels it. I wonder how many other things are passing around and through the earth that we sense but are unable to consciously name or articulate.
I'm thinking about the idea of ascending, about transcending, too. Thinking about how the sky dragons we call "tornados" suck air and things UP. Hail, too, is created when strong updrafts yank raindrops back into the coldest part of a storm cloud, where they freeze, then drop again. With repeated updrafts, hailstones get really big - as big as baseballs, sometimes.
The moral of the story of sky dragons and hail is that gravity always prevails in these situations. Even with black holes, what goes in will, in some way, come back out sooner or later.
There's something about this that the 5:00 a.m. Bird has been trying to explain, I think. Even the bird that died on my stairs was trying, in some way, to show me very specifically how true it is: what goes up must come down.
Don't ask me what story I'm going to weave around all this. I don't know yet but I feel a big theory forming inside my heart/mind. I love moments like this, just before the AH HA. Yeah.
Happy Friday, y'all. Shalom.