During difficult times, I find great comfort in looking up at the sky. There is just something about its vastness that makes me feel so small, as if I could see myself as a freckle marking the drifting horizon. But I am not small in an insignificant sense. It reminds me that I am part of a much bigger whole. And every limb bears the genetic imprint of my body, like a mini universe within itself. Like that tiny, fading frame that makes itself almost invisible when two mirrors are faced with each other, infinitely replicating. I am like that last reproduction modestly presenting itself to the eye, in rightful proportion. That is I, when I look up to the sky.
It reminds me that I am part of a much bigger whole
The snowflake which reproduces itself eternally into smaller patterns of that same self-made substance... that is also I. This whole which cradles me and you, and everything in between: that is also I. Expanding from white to black, the spectrum of nature encompasses all. When I look up into the sky, I know it is the same sky that you see, freckle on the horizon as you are, so I see myself reflected back, and it makes me forget about the unforgiving distance. I know it is the same sun that kisses your skin, and for that reason sometimes I even let it burn. And, in this way, nature somehow bridges the gap between me and you. When I look at the sky, I suddenly understand that true intimacy is another thing altogether, and that to be close to someone physically and to touch their soul are two different things.
When I look up into the sky, I know it is the same sky that you see, freckle on the horizon as you are...
As I watch day turn to night, I see that the moon and sun cannot be with each other, and yet they exist in constant relation. It is a harmony which shapes our lives, our understanding of time, of activity and passivity, rest and play. And I understand that there is unity in distance too.
In cloudy weather I see the balancing of opposites. From that same source of clarity and radiance grows also darkness and thundering nebulae. I see the balancing of my mind, the mantling and dismantling of substanceless haze transmuting into the fluidity of lucid thought, and the relief of vision born out of the long darkening tunnel of night. Then I understand that creativity too is born out of turmoil.
In cloudy weather I see the balancing of opposites.
I create this all as I look up into the sky today, mirror-like, in which I see myself put into perspective, and I wonder what stories you create as you do the same… The never ending narrative of the human mind born out of nature, where intuition is met with wisdom and makes itself our guide...
I see the story as it was told many a time before, as it will be told, and as it unfolds in the constant metamorphosis of sky. What a fine eye it takes to see when eyelids rest calmly over the sphere of sensory experience. That is the eye of nature.
By Louder Than The Storm writer Nina Purton.