Overwhelming and Awe Inspiring Pale Blue Dot

I'm often in awe of the beauty of this world. My heart is full, and I'm in it, presently, in the moment. My eyes go blurry with tears and I think of how lucky I am to be here now, a speck of dust, a collection of atoms floating in infinite possibility.

These are my good moments. In them, I'm able to be fully immersed—one day at a time. The magnificence is bright, but I'm wearing the lenses that allow me to be a witness. I see it, and recognize that I am not in control. I am calm, and the pale blue dot is accepting of my solemnity.

In it—like wholly in it—I am powerless, yet powerful as ever. I am replete with wonder and grace. I am wayward in spirit, I am free. I am mighty. I am capable and proud of who I am.


And then there's a shift. Jarringly and swiftly I crumble. 

My lens through which I am witness has shattered, and the world, it's brightness, forces me to turn away, withdraw. I look down at my feet, and draw inward—I am alone here.

I am overwhelmed, and I can't see. I look around and I don't recognize anything anymore. I yearn to be a present participant in this wondrous absurdity, but I've lost my tether. 

I flail, reaching out, attempting to hold onto something, but I'm faced with a palpable, eerie, deafening silence.

I am one.

I am alone.

I am terrified.

I am a burden.

And I just want to cease; I have nothing to live for.

These are my struggle moments, the darkness betwixt the brightness, the valley floor in my emotional ebbs and flows. It's only time until I can climb out of that valley and onto the next peak from which I can gain perspective, and learn all over again that I am here now—loved, valid, resilient. 

On that peak, I can see again—a remarkable pale blue dot, in which I am a necessary collection of atoms—for myself, for my wife, for my dog, for my friends, for us vacillating humans in flourish and struggle. 

On that peak, I am not alone.