“Despite the lack of stars, the Dark Ages were not completely dark. A rare process caused hydrogen gas to glow dimly.”

Abraham Loeb
“The Dark Ages of the Universe”
Scientific American
November, 2006


Maybe we’re not supposed to be content, but hungry, thirsty enough to move forward.

The brain is hungry to assemble the pieces. The heart is thirsty for communion.

Maybe we’re meant to learn the logic behind the inexplicable epiphanies, just like our ancestors did regarding eclipses and thunderstorms and why the sun rises every day.

The hunger to know, the thirst for communion have carried humans around the globe and into the sea and up to the moon, to the internet and cell phones and photoblogs and videoblogs and chatrooms. They may well carry us to newer (perhaps very old) ways to communicate, ways to travel that we have scarcely imagined. Ways to experience the opposite of aloneness.

We pretend we are not hungry, we are not thirsty.

I have been hiding these last weeks. Hiding stories about fish, ecstatic hunger propelling me from class to class, experiences of shooting upward, of diving straight as a bo into a pool, of eating perfect food, of watching a gull devour the abdomen of a living crab.

It’s scary. I worry I’m too different to belong anywhere. I hide, afraid to be seen. But then I learn from dear and honest friends that I’m not so alone.

I’m just taking notes.