we are all made of stars

I caught the happy virus last night
When I was out singing beneath the stars.
It's remarkably contagious--
So kiss me.

- Hafiz

It's easy to forget about stars when you live in a light polluted metropolis like Chicago. Lately I have been trying to find that first star of the night so i can make a wish, like I did as a little girl. There is something strangely comforting about this simple act. Perhaps this is why I am so often compelled to go to the beach at night. It's the one place in the city where the sky is big and {relatively} dark enough for me to actually stargaze. The rhythm of the waves lapping upon the shore as the soundtrack is an added bonus.

Moby is right. We are all made of stars. Billions of years within each of us. So the stars that I gaze and wish and hope and love upon today, that light which took a gazillion years to reach my eyes, these stars may someday be the very stuff within our future selves. Thinking about that helps me to resist cynicism. When what we do and who we are seem so insignificant, I'll think of those stars and believe that the light we shine now will someday be seen, and that the stuff we are essentially made of--not just the physical but the emotional and intellectual and spiritual as well--will still be around in some shape or fashion even though we ourselves may be long gone.

Y'all really should come to the beach with me one night...