In the overhead of our lives
OR : Can we opt out of being the chosen ones for All of the Above?
This morning I happened to share with a friend that I’m starting to write again. She instantly asked if I was continuing my PhD writing again. Nope, just blogging. She smirked and went, “ah, do something educational, bro”. LOL.
That was correct advice. Maybe. But I can’t tell the difference from what’s correct — this or that other advice: “if you can’t manage to survive here, you should go back home. I cannot help you with jobs and finances. I can only go through your drafts and assess you as a PhD candidate”. Some transient flashbacks to 2020 rush in.
People in masks at the side of the road, Overworked doctors, More people in masks at the traffic lights Scary stats for country wise health and vaccination, TV news channels, PM’s reports, Sporadic protests during temporary lifting of lockdowns, friendships that last to this day and friendships that didn’t endure, people that left, distances and bubbles, movements, exhaustion, tears, missing family, bunk beds in small shared rooms, grocery errands with my new roommate Sharing PhD guilt ridden sudden laughters and food - “Is Rainbow’s End the only adventure park in Auckland?” “It’s the only one in NZ” “Whaaaaa” “Bwhaahahahah” “Bwahahaha”. Sudden and short lived relief from the stress, Restaurants and bar shifts gone quiet and less than 10 hours of work, Rent? Empty Auckland city streets to reckon with... "Hey ma, I'm okay, miss you guys"...
...My mind captures the city's hues of uncertainty. The flashback recedes back like waves during low tide. I’m left to feel a flood of feelings. Associated memories conjure up, rise and then fall to the floor instantaneously. Once again, like a big swoosh.
Then I go blank into silence made up of cluelessness that somehow gets rendered into a sense of calmness. This calm, flipped over, offers resilience. And just like that I’m back in the present. I make it in time to giggle with my friend over that joke about my PhD writing. Snacking like squirrels in our work break room, we spend the rest of the time complimenting each other’s outfits and hair. It is she who starts with the compliments as if she had somehow managed to peek into my memories crystallizing and falling in that instance and was wondering if she could help me clean the mess. But there wasn’t too much mess now, haha. My good brain is good, indeed. Neural synaptic pruning done, all clear and memory updated to good times, for the most part.
In this beautifully frustrating mesh of routine and creativity, I wonder where snacking squirrels head to after work. Where’s home for people who were headed one way and then turned their way around to nowhere in particular. Where’s home for my sense of purpose. I mean, nihilism is not a cute look for me anymore because I’m not 20. But I’m still a wanderer finding my way to my purpose but I don’t know where I’ll find it. Do I scroll on Instagram in the hopes that it will eventually be advertised for me given “they” know what I’m after (even though I don’t). Or do I keep finding it in everything I do? And does that include chopping veggies, which is so therapeutic for all of us, obviously? No idea.
But then I think — I was watching this documentary titled “Our Universe” (2022)*1, narrated by Morgan Freeman. I highly recommend it for folks that are obsessed with extending the scope of their intellectual inquiry starting from Earth all the way to Outer Space*2. So anyway, in the fourth episode, “Elemental”, he tells us that
Deep within the Earth, our planet’s core generates a magnetic field which gives every place on its surface a unique magnetic signature.
In the episode, the island where she was born has been imprinted on the Green Sea Turtle, Stella’s brain. And to find her way back as an ocean wanderer, she relies on the chemical element, Iron, that’s only created when stars die.
He goes on to explain how on the cosmic level, Earth got iron through the iron-dust propelled by a Supernova in a nearby galaxy about two and a half million years ago. 100 tons of star dust penetrating our atmosphere is a daily affair, with some even dropping in from the time when our solar system was formed, along with those blown into our planet all the way from those distant supernovas. The iron in the star dust becomes the direct link between the stars and our planet. And with us.
The iron dust in the deep sea guides Stella towards her birth island, The Great Barrier Reef. The narrator continues that this is possible due to specialized cells in her brain that are thought to contain magnetite, an iron rich mineral that aligns itself to the Earth’s magnetic field, and acts as a compass for Stella to instinctively navigate her way back home from 2000 kilometers away.
I wonder very often if we could tap into the elemental realms of our being and find home with closed eyes, as part of a meditation or in the middle of lap swimming. The many fragments (atoms?) of magnetite lining up as our compass slowly and eventually guides us to the many paths that will merge into one and it will make sense to be where we are.
But on a given day that we feel too distant from our imprinted compasses, we may still step closer by just becoming aware of our present moment. That moment will guide us to the next one, and so each of these moments will play out not as an accident but as a self-accomplished formula for flowing with life. Which makes chopping veggies, writing and lap swimming and what-have-you all discerning practices for getting closer to home.
Stella gets a profound chance at life as she survives predators and makes it to the sea on the day she is born and is just a hatchling. We gotta do the same and treat life itself as a profound chance. I don’t suppose that we can opt out of being the chosen ones to momentarily assume this life as human beings before we become one with star dust again. Our life is indicative of its own acknowledgement. Like Stella cannot opt out of being a sea turtle and swim great lengths across the ocean, I shouldn’t worry about opting out of writing this piece of article.
And maybe instead of worrying about telling the difference from one correct advice to another, I can continue to write. Its not on me to care if it’s educational or not. What we live doing is life lived, and living is our only biological compass for staying into our purpose.
Right? Also, maybe its just me but I’m not so hot for educational writing. I hear the cool kids are using ChatGPT for that anyway*3.
They could use some beach time to connect with their supernova powers. But what do I know, I’m just flowing with it.
Not an actual citation, but I wonder, was that supposed to be Our Universe instead of “Our Universe”?
This docu is all about co-relating patterns and showing parallels between our world and the origin of our universe. What’s even more refreshing is that it is done from the lens of wild creatures and not human beings. Yet, we relate to it better. That’s kind of the point; #Anthropocentric drama can be a bore sometimes, at all times.
No offense to people using other AI tools, I’m not too fussed.