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Jan 05, 2019 09:57:05


by @vickenstein | 243 words | 🐣 | 218💌

Victoria Maung

Current day streak: 0🐣
Total posts: 218💌
Total words: 55041 (220 pages 📄)

The night stars in balmy Lake Tahoe are breathtaking. I can see Cassiopeia, Cepheus, and Leo stud the sky among the silhouettes of the tall evergreen trees. 

Living in the city, light pollution disguises the number of stars that are visible from the ground, so I always make it a goal to look for the stars whenever I travel. 

It astounds me how such a sight evokes far more emotion than wallpaper-quality photos of the night sky captured by professional photographers in plethora. 

Deterred by the quiet cold and potential for bears, I head back into our vacation rental, resplendent with vintage cabin comfort. I think about the stars, the infinitude, and inconsequntiality of human life.

It's remarkable that there is such immediate visual evidence of things beyond our knowledge in the form of a nightly spectacle. The stars are bright, awesome, tantalizing, far. 

Inside, the modern fireplace, contained within a glass case and controlled with a dial, maintains a loud hum, eventually disrupting me from my thoughts. 

It's frustrating, knowing that I will live my life not knowing everything, unable to envelope my being as far as the stars. But they're also humbling, connecting me with humans seeking to break free of limitations, 

"If people sat outside and looked at the stars each night, I'll bet they'd live a lot differently," says Calvin of the eponymous comic strip, Calvin and Hobbies. I couldn't agree more. 

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