The sky looked ordinary today, except for the sudden recognition that consumed me of how vast and distant. In a way it feels like the ocean, deep and mysterious, as if the ocean and the sky were the two bo
okends with our reality and life in the middle. But the thing about the sky is it feels more like a thought than an actual thing. With the ocean you can submerge under water, you can explore as much as you can explore but there is an end. There is a surface, and a rock bottom, and a reef, and a shoreline. It is a part of what makes Earth, Earth. But the sky. Yes, there are atmospheric layers and levels, yes you can penetrate through in a rocket ship to space like a deep dive into the depths of the ocean, but it feels different. It’s deep and vast but looks paper thin. You can fly through it, but what is it? Suddenly the bright blue sky, typically ordinary on a day like today, became extraordinary and took shape as a deeper mystery than the deepest part of the ocean that has gone untouched. I sat there watching the sky turn from powder blue paling in color until it turned subtly pink as if it were blushing from all the attention. It deepened in richness, like molten lava, and then cooled over into a deep purple, a graphite obsidian. Suddenly, something so simple that hangs over me like a canopy every day made me feel so small but so rooted.
