Category: Prose and Poetry

In case I’m in a non-fiction sort of mood. Although technically anything I write might be fiction.

Night Conversation

On By Swarn GillIn Prose and Poetry, Stories20 Comments

I conversed with a heavenly body last night,
She was particularly beautiful,
She radiated tenderly on my face,
I knew she belonged to another, a great man,
But she was so lovely and alone that I stayed

Of late I had given in to her many times,
I knew he would not mind,
He being so far above us anyway,
And I could not resist her flattery,
And the way her faces expressed sympathy.

With heavy eyes she looked at me and said,
“You are too much in my light friend,
Find your way into the day,
I have been romanced since days of old,
And your companionship is unnecessary.”

Confused and yet boldly replying,
“You may be invisible without him,
But don’t dismiss me so easily,
I do understand you the best lady,
We are much closer than you are with him.”

I paused and pondered in reflection,
“Please see me as I am fair lady,
Though you radiate with less intensity,
You can illuminate me and more,”
But she shook her head in revolution.

I turned away from her rejected,
Feeling her pale light, my desperation waxed
“But lady I am going through a phase,
I know that’s your expertise,
Please let me stay in your company.”

She said, “For as much as we share,
In the end only one face remains,
Your perception of me is as he desires,
Instead, strive to be like him always,
Cast your own light into the universe.”

I said, “You underestimate your value,
But perhaps I do as well,
And alas we are once more alike,
Don’t shut me out from your gifts,
Let me bask in ambiguous beauty.”

I then searched the source of my thoughts,
My lamentations were in orbit,
Do I choose fruitless pursuit in my sky?
My separation from her dawned on me,
But I continued to argue in circles as she circled.

“Why have I never seen you from behind?”
As I turned, her turn kept pace with mine,
“I only see your face changing,
I long to see the curve of your back,
The flowing of your lustrous hair.”

Though she knew the reasons for my pleas
Tears fell from both eyes and she said,
“My motion is fixed and I have no choices,
You do not know the gravity of my situation,
If I was different it was so long ago.”

“You must understand that he is the only one,
The only one who sees all of me,
Though your heart may sink at this,
I am not here for your benefit,
He and I have been together for so long.”

A fog then began to grow in the night air,
She became featureless but glowing,
And I heard her anguish over me,
I felt her obstinance waning,
And I longed to press my face to hers.

She sighed “Only one knows me entire,
And long familiarity has faded to habit,
So expert is my illusion I am whole,
Few show interest in more of me,
I am complimented, but you know the truth.”

“It has been a long time for me too,
Since one has appreciated my other side,
My memory is as clear as yours,
What good is it to rise as he does,
For all my beauty I am shallowly perceived.”

With empathy she resigned and said,
“Let us pass the nights together my darling,
When you are ready to take me from your sky,
You will rise one morning with him,And the thrill of a new day will set you free.”

I conversed with a heavenly body last night,
And as I fell asleep she was there,
And when I opened my eyes I was dreaming,
Dreaming of the warmth of the sun,
When the dream ended, I waited again for her.

 

Partly poetry with a chance of showers

On By Swarn GillIn Prose and Poetry31 Comments

I dedicate this poem to a new follower of my blog, who is really a wonderful writer.  I always appreciate writers who can just make words dance.  We all need some reading that just makes you smile.  Her site is here.  You probably want to visit her site instead of reading this nerdy poem. 🙂

wavecloudsA boring scientist enters,
One who knows clouds,
Beyond wisps and shapes,
Beyond layers and levels,
Past the undulating waves
That repeat but don’t repeat
Like a tessellation
That could only come from the hand of Escher himself

And should we be content enough to look up
Or look down,
If that beauty is enough
To tickle our imagination
Inspire our thoughts
Keep us floating above it all?
But a cloud is not just a cloud,
Let me take you in to see what you haven’t seen

Now we are at the top,
I know that’s very boring, but you know
Gravity and all
I didn’t make up the rules
If you’re cold that’s good…that’s normal
What you see might also make you shiver,
But I promise to deliver,
We’ll start with ice, isn’t it nice,
I threw in a bit of rhyme to keep you interested
We’ll throw in another rime later
Microscopic particles of dust want to be ice
They mimic it and vapor is only too happy to appreciate the effort
And water droplets formed from the warmth below
Have no choice but to form tiny crystals
Some are columns long and elegant
Some are dendritic prisms
Whose branches grow
Making ever so intricate patterns
In no hurry to make their descent
They insist on skittering and fluttering their way down
Photons refract their way through this hexagonal maze,
And sometimes they even say “halo”….er…”hello”
But I don’t just want to stay here
Or things will get too cirrus…er…serious

Before I have to be a gentleman and give you my coat,
Let’s move down
If your finding it hard to move down,
That’s the wind in your face
Clouds would like you to believe gravity isn’t the boss
Here in the middle we have at all
Right here you’re being pushed up,
Not too far away you can be pushed down
But let’s get to the heart of the matter
Here there are solids, liquids, and gas
And you’re looking a little frosty
That would be the rime I was telling you about earlier
It’s so beautiful it makes your heart melt,
But you won’t until we get further down
This is where it really gets amazing
There are trillions of droplets in this cloud
They are thawing and freezing, growing and shrinking
Now let’s watch the chase, squint your eyes
Bigger drops and crystals catch smaller ones

                       Droplet Collision

Coalescing, accreting, sticking
Millions of collisions each second
And the wind that blows up
Telling pellets and drops alike
“You aren’t done, you’ve got more to do,
I’ll not let gravity take you yet”
Hail embryos get aggressive,
Water droplets show patience
Can you feel the electric potential grow?
Let’s charge downwards and get out of the snow.

It feels a bit more tropical here,
Near the bottom of the troposphere,
Raindrops are big and ready to fall,
Eager to get away from it all,
Bloated drops fall and scatter to pieces,
As the speed of the updraft slowly increases
From one big drop you get ten,
Just to make its way down the cloud again,
Old drops leave, new drops form,
A wondrous, evolving, dynamic storm,
Look at those two, their picnic set,
They’re both about to get terribly wet
I’m sure the weatherman told them their chances,
But you know how very nice romance is,
I hope this poem precipitates inspiration,
Beyond the nuts and bolts of rain formation,
Now when on the cloud don’t forget to stop,
And think about all those crystals and drops,
There’s a world above and a world below,
But often in the cloud there’s a better show.

Fractured

On By Swarn GillIn Prose and Poetry9 Comments

So is this the beginning of our descent into madness,
When we forget about goodness, pay more attention to badness?
Is society beyond repair, no fix, eternally broken,
As words of rage and hate are the only ones spoken?
The technology that was supposed to connect us,
Serve only as tool for leaders and corporations to dissect us,
The politicians we elect that someone else selects,
Sit in their suits and mansions immune to the effects
When it comes to true courage most haven’t the nerve,
Why don’t politicians also protect and serve,
In the hands of a few is unprecedented power,
But their indifference to us grows hour by hour,
I don’t want a world where my only hope,
Comes from focusing the lens on my telescope.

And yet it seems so obvious the answer is kindness,
Why can’t we all find a way to get behind this?
I know such a statement is just idealistic,
To reduce the problem like this is unrealistic,
I know there are hurts that people hold onto,
But I also know that hurting back is wrong too,
At some crucial point we’re going to have to say,
We need to come together, the other side isn’t going away,
And the notion of an “other side” seems irrational,
We’re all the same species local or international,
Raise people up in accordance to your means,
It’s not a matter of which way your politics leans,
Life is not defined by our categories and labels,
Simply move beyond the self whenever you’re able.

And maybe just maybe, unplug yourself,
Put your phone or remote upon the shelf,
Give a hug, hold a hand, make someone smile,
And see what in this world is really worthwhile.

Eternity

On By Swarn GillIn Prose and Poetry11 Comments

Our story today is set in heaven.  It is a glorious place.  The light of God shines everywhere, and God is at the center of it all, and sort of everywhere just soaking it all in, as countless souls experience the joy and happiness of being in His presence.  And as it says in Revelation, “There is a constant chanting of angels that are heralding Holy, Holy, Holy over the throne of God.  The Mercy Seat in heaven, where God sits, is surrounded by angels full of glory and power that profess and bless the holy name of God continuously.

Bill sits among the multitude of souls reveling in God’s glory.  It’s unclear how much time has actually passed, but things have started to feel a little bit different for Bill.  He hears a voice.

“Psst…hey!”

Bill breaks out of his reverie and looks over to the source of the voice and sees a vague form there. “Are you talking to me?”

“Yeah…well, you’re the only one that seems to hear me, but then again, with all the singing, maybe it’s just hard to hear. Ha!”

Bill watches as the strange figure starts to look more and more human-shaped.

“Yeah, we’re just souls, but since you seem to look the way I feel, I sense we are both transforming into something more resembling our old selves.  I’m Hank.  It’s nice to meet you.  I’d shake your hand, but…uh…well we’re not of the body and all that.”

Bill nods, dumbfounded.  Nobody had ever talked to him since he walked through the gates and from that point on it’s just been constant singing.

“Listen,” says Hank, “I don’t know about you, but I don’t think I can take this anymore.”

“What do you mean?” Bill responded, still slightly shocked that the conversation is happening.

“Do you have any idea how long we’ve been up here?”

“No”

“Well, I do. 14, 325 years!”

“Really?  I thought there was no time in heaven.  How do you even know that?”

“First of all,” said Hank “There’s definitely time passing here, you just can’t measure it by watching the Earth go around the Sun once a year.  And the reason I know how long we’ve been here, is that I happened to ask a passing angel last week.  Difficult buggers to get a hold of, really.  It’s like trying to find an employee in a Wal-Mart to find out where they keep the slivered almonds.  It’s a big place, Heaven, with not a lot of those angels about.  I mean, the ones that are singing are obvious, but you know I figured it’s best not to interrupt.  Anyway, the angel tells me what year it is on Earth.  I’m impressed we even made it as a species for that long.”

“Hmmm…well that’s interesting, but what do you want with me?” Bill asked, wondering if he shouldn’t be getting back to his bathing in the joy of God’s light.

“Well, mainly you were the first person who seemed to hear me.  And quite frankly, I was bored!”

“Bored?  This is heaven!”

Are you trying to tell me all this joy and happiness hasn’t lost its edge a bit?  I mean this feeling of joy and happiness in the glory of God and all that has been going on for a pretty long time…I mean, I don’t even remember why I’m happy anymore.  I mean, don’t get me wrong, God’s great and all, but to feel really good, you need to remember what it was like to feel bad.  It’s been a long time, I was lucky to remember my own name.”

“I’m…Bill, by the way…I think, and yes, you may be onto something.  I have noticed lately that there isn’t quite as much bliss as there was before.  Although I can’t say exactly when it all changed.  I just assumed this was how I always felt and that I hadn’t remembered properly how happy I’d been feeling.”

“Bill, that is exactly what went through my mind.  But you know what knocked me out of my reverie?”

“No. What?”

“As I’m just enjoying the scene of Jesus sitting next to his Father on the throne, I notice Jesus take a sip of something from a golden chalice, and it hits me like a tsunami.  I had completely forgotten the sensation of just how refreshing a drink can be when you’re thirsty.”

“So?”

“So?!  Listen, I’m not saying God isn’t amazing, but so are a lot of other things.  I mean, when was the last time you saw a field full of flowers, a waterfall, or just a great movie?  Or that great feeling you get after a good cry?  I would kill to see Forrest Gump, or Beaches right now.”

“But you get to feel great all the time here.  You don’t need to cry.” Bill looked at Hank with a matter-of-fact expression on his face.

“I mean, sure, you can say that about anything, but where’s the flavor?  Joy and happiness are not built on one thing alone, but are built on a myriad of experiences over the course of time.  I mean, when was the last time you woke up from a kick ass great night of sleep?”

Bill’s expression now changed to one of incredulity “God’s light is everywhere.  You don’t need to sleep?”

“Exactly, it’s always light.  Do you think that’s normal?”

“Isn’t it?”

“Think about it, Bill.  It took me a long time to remember, too.  Don’t you remember something called night?  You know stars?  The moon?  Sleep?”

“It rings a bell.  But sleeping is for when you’re tired.  I’m not tired and haven’t been since I got here.”

“And you think that’s normal?  What about that good kind of tired you get from a good workout or jog?  What about that good kind of tired you get from a satisfying day of work?”

Bill, looked down for a moment, a look of deep concentration on his face. “No I don’t.  I think I sold office supplies.”

“That’s not the point!”  Hank became more animated and grabbed Bill by the shoulders, only to find nothing to grab on to, and then backed away with a look of disappointment.  “Listen, the point is I am sure there was something that brought you joy.  Look, I love God, you love God, that’s how we got here, and I think that’s fabulous.  But there’s got to be more to it than this.”

Bill still looked apprehensive, “I don’t know.  God’s light is pretty great.”

“Of course it is.  If you had asked me 5,000 years ago if I would get tired of this, I would have said you were crazy.  No one is more surprised than I am to find myself in this position of being a bit dissatisfied.  Now, if you ask me if I could I take all of this for another 1,000 or 2,000 years, I would say sure, but eternity?  Really?  That same angel that I asked the year, you know what I asked him next?  How much longer do we have?  You know how he responded?  He just laughed.  That’s messed up.  I mean, don’t you remember getting up here and all the excitement of it?  I was thinking, I can’t wait to see my family.  And you know I realized, I haven’t missed them once. And I don’t know how long you’ve been here, but I also started to remember how excited I would be to get here to meet Him and all the questions I was going to ask him.  I mean, think about it Bill, weren’t you all excited to meet God, and ask Him a bunch of questions?”

Bill nodded.

“Yeah, me too.  But have you got to ask Him one question?”

Bill shook his head.

“Me neither, and I love asking questions.  But I got here and it was just like praise, singing, glorious light, and I forgot everything!”

“So, what, do you want to ask Him a question?”

“Yeah, I want to ask him a question.  Like, ‘Can I go back and do some more good works on Earth?’, because I’m sure there are still problems.”

“Yeah…come to think of it, I feel a bit idle.”  Bill started to feel like maybe he was coming out of a dream. “So do you think we should go up and talk to Him?”

Jesus-at-the-right-hand-of-the-fatherBoth Bill and Hank looked towards the throne.  A throng of angels and beasts singing praise.  God and Jesus were just smiling magnanimously at everybody. Hank turns to Bill, “I don’t know, man, it doesn’t look like a scene to have a conversation in.”

“Yeah.  So what do you want to do?”

“Let’s just get out of here, Bill.  We’ll talk to somebody at the front gate and see what our options are.

“Sounds good, Hank.  But where is the front gate?”

“Hmmm….I don’t know.  It’s been like 14,000 years I don’t remember which direction we came from?  Do you?”

“No.  So what are we going to do?”

“I don’t know…let’s just start walking and try to find it.  I mean, the one thing we do have is time.”

————————————————————————————————-

Thank you for reading.  Thought I’d try my hand at a little satire.  Whatever your thought are about heaven, eternity is still a really, really, really, long time. 🙂

My son, my one

On By Swarn GillIn Parenting, Prose and Poetry, Uncategorized4 Comments

Dhyan_faceOnly now do I know what purity is,
Free from the dilution of life,
And yet I’ve never seen anyone so full of life either,
With you I am at a mountain lake,
Where “civilization” is not in its vocabulary,
With you I am at an amusement park,
Teeming with joy, fun and smiles,
Lost in a moment, in a day that we hope never ends

I dreamed last night I was crying,
From a love that made each cell in my body,
Vibrate to the point I was changing phase,
And the liquid poured out of me,
Just as your sweet little kisses poured over me,
Your smile and laughter bathed me,
Like particles of light in the morning sun,
Dancing on my skin to a timeless symphony.

You remind me that I am mammal,
Not animal in the way that people usually mean it,
Not primitive or violently struggling to survive,
But natural, wild, inseparable from this world,
Your head nestles under the curve of my neck,
I can feel the warmth of your blood, pulsating,
Flowing with mine, in tune with the beat of Earth’s heart,
The ebb and flow of life enveloping us both.

There is a closeness that no force can destroy,
It may stretch, it may tear, it may hurt,
It persists even through the veil of death,
No matter the physical distance I know,
There will be moments where we look for each other,
And in those moments we will find each other
For I am responsible for you, and though you don’t know it,
You are responsible for me too.

The world is wonderful to you right now,
I know it’s not going stay that way,
The pain in life percolates through the bliss,
But that does not mean that bliss disappears,
Above those clouds there is always the sun, the stars,
The weather changes, but that does not,
I promise to never fail in reminding you of this,
For it’s because of you, I will always know beauty.

Peace in Pieces

On By Swarn GillIn Prose and Poetry10 Comments

I sit here and look at the television screen,
What is she wearing?  Who are they going to vote off?
Twittering rage, Facebook lols, texting friends,
I’m experiencing life, I hope it never ends,
Not really paying attention,
There’s nothing else to do,
It feels like peace for me, is it peace for you?

I’ve got a lot and I’m going to need more,
I really don’t know what it’s all for, but I got it,
In only 10 years my wealth will double,
Too bad about that housing bubble,
You’ve got to work harder,
You’ve got more to do,
Can’t take a piece from me, I’ll take that piece from you.

I had a job, but well they didn’t need me anymore,
I’m sure I’m important though, but how to show it,
Turning on the news, the worlds gone to hell,
No way I’m going to get out of this well,
I’ve got to fight just to survive,
Only one thing left to do,
Won’t take a piece of me, I’ll take a piece of you.

You want me to trust, but I’m so afraid,
That article told me who’s to blame, the real problem,
Just keep me safe, I’ll do what it takes,
Close the borders for goodness sake,
I’ve got my gun next to me,
What are you going to do?
You took peace from me, I’ll take a piece of you.

I must raze the world to build it anew,
I’ve got a vision, and this is where you come in,
This is divine providence, no need to fear
You’ll change the world, for God is near
Your cause is righteous,
You know what to do,
Take some pieces of them, for pieces of you.

I’ve so much to be thankful for,
My basic needs are met and even a little sugar,
I won’t sit here and be passive,
Let the weight get too massive,
I’ll show you my heart,
Do what you will do,
But you can take a piece of me, and put that piece into you

The Shame Spiral

On By Swarn GillIn Commentary, Pop Culture, Prose and Poetry, Psychology12 Comments

Shame is the topic today.  I’ve decided though that I want practice being more creative with my writing.  While I enjoy writing out my thoughts in essay form, and many of you have been kind of enough to appreciate it as well, variety is the spice of life, and I need to practice more variety of expression.  Especially I still have this dream of one day writing some sort of work of fiction, and so I need to practice wordcraft and storytelling more.  And I venture it to such an area, I risk making myself more vulnerable as I express a part of myself I am less confidence in my ability to express.  The connection between vulnerability and shame was brought to my attention this week through a wonderful TED talk. This culture of shaming,

especially through social media has been on my mind a lot over the past year or so, since I saw an excellent interview on the Daily Show with Jon Ronson.  An article on the book he has published is here.  So I shall let the talk and the article do the intellectual speaking for me, and I will instead put forth this poem on the subject.  In my head this poetry would be expressed as a rap, or rather a dialogue between two rappers.  In my head are a lot of the songs from the musical Hamilton which I am sure had somewhat of influence on my mode of expression. lol  Also, fear not, in my head I also know I have the least amount of street cred to be rapping.  🙂

I’m not a lynch mob, I’m just here all alone,
Reading about things that I don’t condone,
Concerning people I’ve never really known,
And shaming them from behind my telephone

You’re fat, you’re ugly, and you’re a fool,
You’re so fucking dumb, didn’t you go to school?
Are you even dimly aware of the newest rule?
Exposing what you are, makes me look cool.

You see, I’ve made the world a better place,
By showing you don’t belong in the human race
I got no time to check the facts of your case,
You can try to efface, but mistakes won’t erase

Each like I get invigorates me,
And helps me hide my vulnerability,
I don’t make mistakes, you want civility?
It’s curt, but your hurt’s not my responsibility.

A million views, the shares have swirled,
Filled with mocking laughter, insults hurled,
I’m a link in this chain of shame that’s unfurled,
A virtual crowd that’s crushing your world

Do you like what I said, do you feel remorse,
Do you feel bad enough to correct your course?
I scream and scream until my voice is hoarse,
Shame is my game, I’m a dangerous force.

But what if you’ve not made anything better?
Addicted to shaming, bound by a fetter,
You’re just another follower, not a jet-setter,
Passing judgment on others letter by letter

Shame never informs, has little to tell,
Gives you nothing to build, and nothing to sell,
There’s no way it will ever serve you well,
Don’t be a part of that shaming carousel.

Was that 8 second verdict more than it seemed?
Shame them to goodness, is that what you schemed?
They’d learn their lesson, is this what you dreamed?
Do you think that’s how souls are really redeemed?

Instead you put a hole in the soul of those that you shame,
Anger, isolation, depression just fan the flame,
Of violence and hurt, now you’re partly to blame,
Should you make a mistake, do you deserve the same?

We need to focus on things that make us whole,
Don’t stride to divide, and stop being a troll,
Kindness and charity, let that be your goal,
Be a model of compassion, let that be your role

So you see with such ease we’re blind to the pain,
That we cause for momentary emotional gain,
In a world filled with hurt it’s so hard to stay sane,
Shaming doesn’t help, we’ve got to refrain

I speak from experience, I know how you feel,
To stare at the screen and think it’s all real,
But what part of the heart do your actions reveal?
Forsaking personal growth for mass appeal.

Oppose what is wrong, but don’t dehumanize,
Know your own imperfections, try to empathize,
Keep on yearning for learning and you’ll grow to be wise,
Add joy to the world and watch your spirit rise

Out Under The Sky

On By Swarn GillIn Musings, Philosophy, Prose and Poetry, Science17 Comments
When I Heard the Learn’d Astronomer by Walt Whitman
When I heard the learn’d astronomer,
When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me,
When I was shown the charts and diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them,
When I sitting heard the astronomer where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room,
How soon unaccountable I became tired and sick,
Till rising and gliding out I wander’d off by myself,
In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time,
Look’d up in perfect silence at the stars.

A friend of mine and I had a wonderful discussion about magic and perfection the other day. It got me thinking about what it means to appreciate the magic something.  For her it was about the pure and the simple.  On a wonderful little gift she gave me, the tag on the gift had the line from the following Walt Whitman poem above “from time to time, Look’d up in perfect silence at the stars”.  When I looked up the entire poem and read the words (as I had never read it before) I found it funny how much the meaning of the poem had to do with what I was sorting through in my mind (by the way this friend was a student in my Introduction to Earth Science class and wonder if there isn’t more of a message in there for me lol).  The words from the poem she shared with me are good advice.  But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I could no longer follow such advice.  Have I lost something?  Have I lost the appreciation for magic?  Am I unable to enjoy things in perfect silence?  My mind singular on the beauty I behold?  Not too long ago another blogger I follow who writes poetry that I always connect with wrote a poem about missing when life was simple called Old Happy Stars.  I do long for that.  I think we all do to a certain degree.  I also know that you can’t go back and making things feel so simple an amazing is very hard for me.

This discussion about magic came up because we were discussing Santa Claus. She was a firm believer in Santa Claus until the 4th grade, and is raising her daughter, like many people, to see all the magic that is Santa Claus.  I am someone who never once believed in Santa Claus, and thus even I were to want to give my son Santa Claus at Christmas there would be no level where I could really fake it.  I have no memories of any magic associated with Santa.  She said it’s important for children to have those magical things.  And I have to say I agree with her.  After the conversation I started to ponder what the magic was in my childhood.  I remember looking at lightning in thunderstorms and feel that it was absolutely magical.  Thunder seemed magical, the smell of rain seemed magical.  For me there was a lot of magic in the sky and I am certain I had some moments of perfect silence, even if it wasn’t actually silent.  I think sometimes in such moments we feel perfect silence because we are in perfect solitude, shutting out the rest of the world while we are singular in our focus.  When I came home I started watching my son and how amazed he is by things, whether it’s trains or the planes up in the sky.  It seems to me that even they begin to learn what these things are and what their purpose might be, they have no idea how they work.  Something that seems to moving but has no muscles, no animal-like locomotion, no feathers for flying must seem like absolute magic.  If I wasn’t forming a lot of long term memories, and I saw this metal object flying in the sky I would be pointing up every single time too in excitement.  I think, at least I hope, kids always see things as magical, even if you don’t give them Santa.  For them, every object that they’ve dropped or thrown up in the air comes down.  That plane up in the sky has to be some pretty crazy stuff to them, and what other choice do they have but to take it on faith that it will not fall down from the sky.

That thought made me happy, but I started to get a little bit sad, because I am not sure that I could just gaze at the stars in perfect silence. Because in that poem I am the Learn’d Astronomer, and if I was a student in that class I would be enthralled by the equations, the figures, and the charts.  When I look at the stars I can’t help but think what the humidity might be that is impacting their twinkle.  I would think about how far away those stars are, and how trigonometry gives us a way of telling how far away they are through stellar parallax.  I would think about how the stars are like a portal back in time, knowing that I am seeing what a star looked like 10,000 years ago, and how at that time human civilization was just dawning.   If you can’t tell already, it’s hard to quiet my mind.  I look at everything like that.  Sometimes I am wondering and questioning, maybe coming up with some hypothesis to explain what I’m seeing.  Perhaps I would make an analogy.  Or perhaps I would simply think about all the forces at work, or the history of the object, the big picture, the detailed picture, related pictures.  Sometimes I contemplate all the connections that one thing has to others.  All that comes to me in a flood and I feel overwhelmed by how amazing this universe is.  And then I started to smile, because maybe it’s not magic, but it’s still amazing.  It’s still beautiful.  I t still leaves me in awe and wonder even if I know exactly how it works and think about every variable in the equation.  And maybe for every person that walks out on the Learn’d Astronomer and enjoys that perfect silence at the stars, there is a student who stays and listens and just takes it all in and the amount of seemingly simultaneous thoughts grow like the branches of a tree.  And I’m not making a comment about level of intelligence because my friend is extremely intelligent and I feel like she experiences those moments of perfect silence frequently, perhaps even at will when she needs to.  But maybe it’s just really a different way of approaching the same beauty in life.  There are truly times when I wish I could experience such moments that Whitman describes, and so I envy her.   But maybe the beauty I see is just as enviable.

So as I began to smile I thought back to just that morning and how when I drove in to work just sliver of the crescent moon was visible as the moon waned. Often, at about an hour before sunrise, there is enough reflection of the Earth back to the moon and you can see the rest of the lunar sphere, even though it’s featureless.  Then I thought in my mind about the geometry of all 3 objects and had this model in my head.  And I decided to write a poem.  The one I just posted a few days ago.  And like magic I took all those thoughts and imagined almost like a love affair between the Earth and the moon.  So even if I stare at the moon and explain its beauty while also appreciating it, such thoughts can still inspire, still create, and still bring me a great deal of wonder that I think can be considered a type of magic.  And maybe that Learn’d Astronomer is just as lost in his world of equations and charts as the star gazer is lost in his moment of perfect silence.  Maybe it’s not so important how you experience magic in the world, but that you do experience it and never lose that ability to get lost in wonder and awe at beauty.

The Slender Moon

On By Swarn GillIn Prose and Poetry, Science8 Comments

As the night kissed the dawn,
You revealed to me only a thin,
Beaming sliver of shining light,
But from me you could not hide,
You were whole in my reflection,
As I faced you with bright smile,
I introduced you to the day,
But you paled at the rising sun,
I turned away and you were gone,
Wishing there was a way to go back.

But I still remember that light,
I still remember all of you,
I patiently wait for night,
And hope it all begins anew.

 

Sweet Sorrow – My Ode to Autumn

On By Swarn GillIn Prose and Poetry25 Comments

After running with long healthy strides,
Summer sighs and rests its weary bones,
Catching its breath and closing its eyes,
It thinks back on the life it has made, smiling,
And begins a journey of deep reflection,
In that quite moment, autumn is born.

That green, so pervasive and full of life,
Begins to give way to a symphony of colors,
And a clear night ends in a cool morning
Bringing us all relief from summer heat.
No surface is excluded from thick dew,
Lying under a blanket of slumbering fog,
Snaking its way through the valley,
Slow to wake and start its day in the rising sun,
And as the noon time sun shines brightly,
The skin no longer hides from that blazing orb,
The humid haze of summer has left,
The sky, a perfect blue, brings clarity of mind,
A feeling of nostalgia for carefree days,
A joy for the closeness of friends and family,
Inner warmth protects against shorter days.

Gentle summer breezes are replaced by brisk winds,
And waning leaves are forced from their homes,
To settle anew on the hardening soil below,
And the year begins to feel the consequence,
Of getting lost in sweet remembrances.
It must also account for the passage of time,
And see that less lies ahead than lies behind,
A bountiful harvest is full of summer’s heat,
Animals fill their bellies with old sunlight,
Saying their goodbyes as life withers on the ground,
And as the morning air hints at winters bite,
Fur is thickened and homes are secured,
Each ray of warm sunshine becomes a great gift,
Moments of laughter are appreciated more,
And wisdom and gratitude replace youthful vigor.

And in the longer night hours, silence sets in.
A light frost adheres to stubborn leaves,
Who cling to their branches, refusing to face,
The inevitability that all life must meet its end,
And that all we can do is hope we lived well,
So a better world begins in winter’s wake.