When the day met the night

One such set of lyrics, that I don’t think I will ever be able to forget, is from an old Panic At The Disco! song: ‘’When the moon fell in love with the sun, all was golden in the sky. All was golden when the day met the night.’’

We have many expressive ways to talk about sunsets, all generations have waxed poetic about it in the past, and will hopefully continue to do so in the future. Even rock painting Neanderthals probably spoke about sunsets in single syllable grunts. Expressions of splendour centuries before the discovery of atoms and visual light spectrums and sliced bread. One of my favourites is that of e.e. cummings: ‘’If day has to become night, this is a beautiful way.’’

For the past couple of days I have been going around asking crew members if they have a preferred constellation, planet and or other celestial phenomenon. With the exception of one or two, who supplied me with immediate and passionate answers, everyone had the exact same response – a rare form of unity – ‘’I don’t know much about the (science of) stars.’’

Despite my curiosity having no correct desired response, everyone felt the need to use lack of knowledge to diminish their value of what they enjoy in nature. I do not support the notion that scientific knowledge is required to understand the beauty of something. It can simply be beautiful, regardless of the atoms or the systems that create it.

I frequently think about past versions of myself, the things they enjoyed and disliked, where they were, where they thought they were going. I think, be it because of science or any other factors that we allow to inhibit ourselves, we have refrained from enjoying what we used to. We used to be so good at looking at stars or seeing cloud shapes or imagining life on other planets.

Many of these song lyrics I carry around in my overfilled brain – now including MANY sea shanties and 2 Swedish folk songs - has formed part of my past, and continue to carry me through my present. As for many other people, I’m sure, I frequently have to remind myself that I still have time. I’m young and I need to enjoy life as it comes. As Billy Joel more eloquently put it: ‘’Slow down, you’re doing fine. You can’t be everything you want to be before your time.’’

I can’t rewrite my past. It is now prologue. I can outline my plans for the future, plan it out like a novel, but only time will write what happens. For now, I can choose to look at the stars with childlike amazement, and see sunsets for the breath taking, and breath giving, phenomena that they are – without needing scientific proof or understanding. I think e.e. cummings - should he also have had the blessing to sail on Europa, and the heartbreak of having to leave her behind - would have agreed, that if my present has to become past, this is a beautiful way.

To my fellow travellers – friends – we have time. We can simply like a star because we like it. Heck, we can even name it if we want, science be damned. Our past is our prologue. Your future is yours.

Slow down. You’re doing fine. Brazil waits for you…