Billions

But of course you can’t see billions. Can you. You can’t even see millions. You can only see—with the naked eye—thousands. And this is funny also, isn’t it. They. The scientists who get to talk to us knowledgably on TV. They know there are billions and billions, but we. Pathetic liberal-arts-major humans with their naked eyes. Can only see a few thousand. Heh-heh-heh!

So what do we know. What do we know on our own. See how limited. See how faulty. Notice how comically we all think we see billions and billions when in actual fact this is a calculated number. Numbers. Numbers, I should say. These are calculated numbers. It’s what must be, we think. We are told. What needs to be, given a whole boatload of assumptions. But nobody’s ever counted them. Nobody’s ever said, a-one anna-two anna-three anna-four and gone through the numbers lika-that and got to billions.

I wonder why that is. I wonder why the scientists, who are good at this. Who God made for this. Haven’t done it. I think maybe it’s too tedious and boring. Do you agree. I don’t know. Is anything too tedious and boring for scientists. That’s what I want to know. Hard to imagine. I know. I know. Very difficult to imagine.

But whatever the number is, it seems like a lot. When you look up into the sky. You know. Out in the country. Out in the middle of nowhere. In the middle of Iowa, let’s say. Where I am right now. Today. Rubbing elbows with the cows, so to speak. And the pigs, so to say. And the corn. And the soy beans. Rubbing elbows with God’s humble creatures. And you look up. Look up and feel the whole of the universe suddenly settle round about your head like a crown. A crown of light. A crown of dark. A crown of light and dark. Of infinite light and dark. Or close enough to infinite for liberal arts purposes.

And you discover. And this can be sudden. This can be shockingly sudden. That there is this allspacetime surround. This universe that exists outside of the photographs. Outside of the planetariums. Outside of National Geographic Magazine. Outside of TV shows about it. That it exists out here, right over head. And we discover that it comes right down over our heads like a second skin. And that it is wild. And unexplored. And really really dark and deep and bright. Well. It’s the universe after all. All that’s not us and our little silly blue and green planet. The one verse. The all in all. Everything God has to say. His poem, if you will. And it’s all around us. And it is uncounted. And nobody’s been there. Except for God. And. Well. It’s astounding. And frightening. And big. And it goes on and on. And. Oh. It is beautiful. Don’t you think. Isn’t it. Doesn’t it light up that inner room. That secret place. Doesn’t it explode in there with the light of a sun and burn. Burn. Burn brightly in there as if it would never stop. As if there’s no stopping this ever. This sense that. This feeling that what has been made won’t stop. Won’t ever stop. Will keep on going like this. All these stars. And the dark mystery between the stars. This deep bright dark beauty. Forever.