I figured the best way to start out this series was where it all began; in my first home with one of my oldest memories. So here it is, the first of many excerpts from the innermost workings of my mind.
The Stars Tell Our Stories
Dad and I used to spend our nights laying on the warm pavement of the balcony in our Boston St. home and stargaze. That’s where it all began. My obsession for the twinkling lights that brighten the night sky began as a memory of my life at its peak happiness. That’s also probably what made me some kind of weird astrology fanatic. I know most people think of it as some made up voodoo myths, but I can’t help but believe in the idea that we’re connected to the stars in some way. The alignment of the stars when I was born is different than it has ever been and ever will be again in the same way that every action in my life brings me to a point I’ve never been before and will never be in again.
That’s what’s so special about this life. Every instant is fleeting and only happens once. Every decision changes us, for better or worse. And every action moves us forward in our personal game of life. Much like the stars, we go through phases, we come into existence, we omit light to guide others, sometimes our light dims and sometimes it is stronger than ever, we receive light from others around us, and eventually we burn out. The burning out is what scares most people, but it brings me a sense of gratitude for the time I have here and the stories I will leave with.
Just because we no longer exist in this life doesn’t mean our legacy is gone or our memories won’t be passed through future generations.
The light we see is from stars that existed thousands of years ago. Some of which come from stars that are burned out. But their light still remains to help those of us on this Earth to see in the darkness of the night. No two stars, and no two people are the same. They form beautiful constellations and shine brighter when they are in groups than when they are alone. We can do astonishing things and can tackle the impossible when we willfully collaborate for the cause of progression.
Stars come in different shapes, sizes, and even colors. Albeit, we see them all as light. The stars are my happy place, my reminder of all that I am and that I can be. The only problem with that is that I can’t stay in the reverie of my nights with dad in our Boston St. balcony. At the end of every night the sun rises and the stars disappear. Reality sets in, and I realize that I am not a star. I won’t be seen the same as everyone else. I won’t always have a light bright enough for others to see. And I have to work to be the brightest I can be and to form my own constellation full of people who share my goal of guiding people through the darkness of the world around them. As night becomes day, I start to understand the truth…