For our comfort, we see familiar figures represented in the heavens. With the advent of industrial light, the heavens have disappeared from view for many. Lighting up the night has produced the slow death of constellations, the death of gods, and the death of God amongst the self-lit humanoids of the day. Self-lit, we have lost heavenly comfort.
We live in space-time. We insist upon it. We love to maneuver through space-time. It feels solid, real. We may call it a drag (and it is a place of friction) but we love its melodrama and are addicted to space-time “progress.” Drag queens all.
We no longer create constellations in the heavens. We surround ourselves with them and are, of course, the main or major star in their makeup. (Makeup as in made up and makeup as in cosmetics.)
Our constellation decides who is IN and who is OUT. Those within our constellation are the only ones that matter. All others are mere backdrops, or at times, irritants to our constellation’s drama and worthy purpose.
Some zoom out of the societal and personal constellations. (Some say they do but have merely created a zoom-out constellation with themselves as stars amongst the zoomers.) The particle-ular point of view is released. No new constellation is made. All is vibrancy. This was once known as being God-intoxicated.
The athletic feat is to be God-intoxicated while living amidst one’s own and other’s constellations. Why athletic? Because this takes motivation, practice, and training. And who is one’s trainer? The Cosmos Itself, training us all the time.
If I am going to be in a constellation, I choose the one of star athletes, those who choose to amplify their skills and thereby open to ever newer realms, going beyond what was once thought impossible and going beyond the beyond.
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