the stories we tell, the stories we are told
Consumed by the vast unknowableness of both outer space and the oceans on our planet, I think of the connectedness between everything and how we see patterns where we choose to look. When looking at the night sky and trying to recognize constellations, I try to picture the ﬁrst people to draw those imaginary lines between the random pinpricks of light, making sense out of chaos.
Then I wonder, if those lines connecting the dots across the cosmos were real, what they would look like from elsewhere in the universe. There is so much we do not know, and the emptiness of that is as potentially terrifying as the open ocean on a moonless night. But in spite of the futility of it all, we try to enjoy the incredible unlikeliness of our being here at all. We still try to ﬁgure things out. To imagine. To ﬁnd meaning. In his book Sapiens, Noah Yuval Harari writes that "the greatest scientiﬁc discovery was the discovery of ignorance." My dad raised me to believe that the surest sign of intelligence in another human being is curiosity and imagination.