It’s Saturday and my husband is off on a day-long cycling trip. I am faced with an array of choices. How will I spend this day? I want to make the most of it. Do something novel, inspiring.
I stand at the window. The morning garden wears a grey, chalk-like pallor, brightened by blooms of pink azaleas and primroses. (I prefer the Spanish Orejas de oso , Bears’ Ears.) The sky too is dove grey.
|Orejas de Oso|
After dropping off my husband at their designated meeting place, I snuggle back into my warm bed to read the newspaper in search for an art exhibit. I want to invite myself to an “Artist’s Date”, stimulation for my blogger muse who has been sleeping on the job lately. First on my agenda (after the news paper) is a brisk hour’s walk. After that, it’s “anything goes”.
Just back from my walk. Sweaty and thirsty, but first, straight to the computer. How could I have forgotten that long walks stimulate my creative juices, drawing my muse out of hiding? After days of searching, I came up with a title for a section of my new book. I’ll reveal no more for now.
My thoughts wandered back to an article in today’s newspaper about the detection by the spatial telescope Keplar of a new planet very similar to Earth and perhaps capable of supporting life. Astronomers have access to mind-blowing views, though they do not yet have the technology to analyze Kepler-454b, much less photograph it, situated as it is 1400 light years from Earth. I t is also 1500 years older than our planet.
I seldom look at the nighttime sky here in Santiago. City lights and thick smog opaque the stars. Only in southern Chile and in the northern Atacama Desert have I beheld the evening sky awash in a myriad of stars.
In those places, I struggle to wrap my mind around the numbers, the distance. Growing scientific knowledge once again challenges my deepest beliefs and concepts of the universe, creation, life and God. I find it incomprehensible. Man can never know it all – but will always keep on trying.
That’s where the wonder lies – in the unfathomable, the infinite uncertainty.