to infinity, and beyond

I am deeply, unapologetically, and fiercely,

geeky.

I know, I know. This is not to take away the glory from those who are fierce about their nerd/geek philosophy and image. I realize I am crossing into territory that is littered with fan-fiction and severe anxiety of the general public.

I wear heavy glasses.
(and not that bad vision is nerdy.)

In fact, if you are around me for more than a few minutes, I will have pushed them back up on my nose at least three times. I suppose I should get that fixed. My frames are thick. I have terrible vision, but the slighter cool part of me likes that I can have a choice with my ever-increasingly thick lenses.

I suppose I am nerdy about food, in the way some are about Skyrim or D&D or Star Trek.

We are all heavily into something, I suppose.

I sat for about three straight hours watching a panel of physicists and engineers and scientists talk about space, energy and time. I love it. So, so much. It is all a great mystery that I am drawn to — the outer limits — or as our favorite explorer once said, “To Infinity, And Beyond!” I suppose there is something exciting about an unforeseen frontier. Of life on another planet or moon. How that would change everything.

But I settle back into my body and digress a bit. With geekdom comes fantasy. Escapism of the natural world. One of which is rich and deep with beauty and pain. It is also endless.

In the same way I learn about clarifying stock to make consommé, I am drawn to the mystery of space. I reckon’ this adds to my suspicion that we are all more alike than we are different. I’d like to think we are all aware of this great mystery. Some of us tend to embrace it more than others.

The fact that black holes maybe don’t exist after all, or at least our theory on the idea can still shift. Error is okay in science. The world was once flat.

We also used to be the center of the universe.

(Some of us still think this way.)

Things change, thank God.

We are left humbled, all the time. Feeling small should not be looked down upon. We are so, so, microscopic.

Yet our eyes…can see such gigantic things.

I suppose I am thinking about this a lot today, especially as the wind outside is shifting the clouds and our weather systems move out, and give rain to a farmer who was praying. Or to the unfortunate side effect of flooding, destroying peoples lives and the habitats of other living creatures.

We are so small.

But we see big things.

So as I sit and wonder how the stars let us gaze upon them, and as I stare into a pot of clear consommé, I am confounded.

Delightfully so, at that.

I am reminded of our limitless imagination. Our endless spirit. And the Great Unknown.

yes, my friends, if I do say so myself,

we could learn a lot from Buzz Lightyear.

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