See it to Believe it
A view of the night sky taken along the Waterfront Trail in Ajax, Ontario, Canada.
The moment I was left humbled.
The sound of ice crackling was like the sound of gnawing at potato chips, whirlpooling back and forth in a large body of saliva. Housed inside the comforting soles of my sneakers, my awfully bulky and bleached-esque faded feet were savagely being nibbled away at by the strikingly impermeable and carnivore resembling aroma of frosty air. This kindled a crave within me to spawn albatross-like wings and migrate to the majestic coastal sea lines of Costa Rica. I followed the sound of my friend’s footsteps rather than his dark and roving silhouette. Even though we were roughly shoulder width apart, the dearth of natural and artificial lighting turned his mere physical presence into that of a ghost; completely unnoticeable.
The thought of each subsequent step being placed along this unobservable narrow waterfront trail, instinctively impelled me to gingerly make my way to the nearest lookout point. This dicey trek sparked a recollection of the time I went hiking in British Colombia, during the dawn of the summer months, and fell, back first, while gingerly scrambling down a plethora of irregularly sharp-edged rocks that were meant to mirror a downhill staircase of some sort.
Although the shrieking pain, that undeniably should have rattled my spine, was intercepted by the brick wall-esque divider (my backpack) I was carrying on my back. I stared up at the heavens absolutely dumbfounded and satirically murmured, “Why me?” That incident took place during broad daylight. However, on this portentous February evening, the time had arrived for the brightest star in the sky to deservedly clock out and bid us all farewell for the remainder of the night.
* * *
We sauntered off the trail and onto a plain grassy field coated in a blanket of ravaging snow. As our eyes admired the substantial volume of obscurity perpetuated by the lords of darkness elongating far into the distance, the celestial display, hovering above us, acted as an effective word extracting and thought banishing mechanism. One could have referred to it as “therapeutic cleansing.”
At the time, I had never dabbled in the art of astrophotography and was perplexed on where to even begin. With some tips of advice from my friend (who, in my humble opinion, is much more of a photography guru than I am), I was flabbergasted at the final product. In the famous words of mainstream German-born American rapper and record producer J. Cole, you “gotta see it to believe it.” Although I could definitly see it, it was damn-near impossible for me to believe it.
* * *
The bus came to a screeching halt. My friend was getting off a couple stops before I was. I thanked him for an incredible shoot and vowed that we would soon meet again. A few seconds after he had stepped off the bus platform, the rear doors firmly shut behind him and the bus started to pick up speed once again.
I had taken a moment to look back at the photos I took on my camera’s SD (secure digital) card. This photo, in particular, snatched my attention, like instances of people walking around with a unique blend of pink and blue hair. My body sunk into the photo. It evoked a constant replay of a universally maneuvered mathematical display within my mind, an overcrowded scatterplot.
Trust me, I am not a math geek by any stretch of the imagination however, it is hard to argue that the directionless trend the stars mimic does, undoubtedly, approximate a series of X and Y points scattered (pun intended) across a grid producing a non-linear relationship.
What’s that? You don’t give a s***? Okay I hear you. Here is the truth. This non-linear directionless trend is symbolic of a collective trend that persists outside of the mathematical solar system. This collective trend persists in our very existence. In our consciousness. In our ambitious nature to remain the most preeminent and perdurable species to have ever altered the innate foundation of this 4.5+ billion-year-old planet in such rapid and successive fashion.
Irregularity, inconsistency, unpredictable opposition towards instantaneous and infinite lust in hopes of amassing long lasting euphoria, all reign supreme. The only element of morphological consistency that exists is mother nature’s unremitting urge for her inhabitants to adapt a sense of malleability and versatility.
Imagine this: one day, you are in a state of unimaginable euphoria as you have just married the love of your life. You both acknowledge that matrimonial disputes are inevitable but then resort to the proverbial notion that no dispute will ever be extensive enough to form a large enough crack that would penetrate through this inveterate wall of commitment.
The next day, your boss informs you to pack your bags and go home due to the apparent negligence exhibited by one man who eagerly decided to indulge in a fairly tempting and quite appetizing Chinese delicacy known as bat soup (your boss’ words, not mines) and, as a result, the entire world is now on lockdown. Unexpected and unpredictable. Now what?
Or, imagine this: one day, you and your beloved partner celebrate the advent of life as you welcome a new addition to the family. This momentous event, brimming with indescribable elation and optimism, abruptly ends as you receive a phone call informing you that your grandmother has just passed away from stage four cancer.
Your heart is indecisive on whether it should sink to mourn the loss of your grandmother or stay afloat and give praise to the almighty for gracing you with your very first child. A tsunami of emotions erupts, as they are all petitioning to have your unwavering and unconditional attention. Unexpected and unpredictable. Now what?
Finally: one day, you leave the house and make a declaration that you will return home in one unscathed piece (as you have always done). However, given the unique set of circumstances, it is plausible that on any given day you may return home with a busted lip, or a bruised hip, or a broken arm, or even a broken leg (just as an example).
Now, one day an individual may knock on your front door. Your mother opens the door, coffee mug in one hand, doorknob in the other. She then notices two gentlemen standing in front of her. She wonders how much longer it will be before you return home. That is when the gentlemen inform her that she no longer has to wait. At that moment, she realizes you will not be coming home.
The coffee mug slips out of her grasp, comes face to face with the polished hardwood floor, and shatters into a million pieces. Her heart is battered, bruised, and conceivably broken. A promise, made to her by her child, to see them return home will forever remain unfulfilled. An ordinary day transformed into a calamitous, unexpected, and unpredictable horror story. Now what?
You’re probably expecting me to provide you with some sort of answer, aren’t you? I hate to be the bearer of bad news but I am indeed no soothsayer. However, let us retreat to the idea of each individual star resembling a grid point consisting of X and Y coordinates.
For hypothetical reasons, let us visualize a pseudo-mathematical grid consisting of an X and Y axis, with the former measuring level of happiness by ranking events that generally evoke grandiose and euphoric thoughts and feelings, and the latter measuring level of unhappiness by ranking events that generally evoke a sense of extreme dread and misery (these variables can alternate).
What would you predict the trend to be in this pseudo display of data (hint: just look at the photo)? The inevitable answer would be “no trend.” And that is precisely my fundamental argument. A definitive moment of joy (birth of a child) does not forecast a proportionate moment of agony and sorrow in the future (death of a grandmother) because such “proportionality” is non-existent in this monopoly of life.
One is unable to adherently tailor their livelihoods in a manner where they can candidly choose to inherit maximal happiness and minimal (or sometimes none at all) unhappiness. Prolonged joy and glee do not eliminate the probability of terror and panic to unexpectedly rear their ugly head at the most inopportune time. Likewise, prolonged insufferable pain and anguish do not eliminate the probability for triumph and prosperity to unexpectedly carve out a pathway for one to pursue and eventually achieve insurmountable success.
As the inhabitants of mother earth, the verdict on many of these cases do not rest in the palm of our hands, and rightfully so. Yet, even with such inconsistency and uncertainty symbolically entrenched within this astronomical photograph, there still exists a visual appeal. An intuitive beauty, strikingly visible amongst the aimlessly dispersed celestial bodies, making it strenuous to simply look away. And that is what I refer to as the “phenomenon of reality.”
* * *
I pulled the cord to indicate I wanted off at the next stop. As the speed of the bus began to lessen, the sound of the engine was reminiscent of a long-drawn-out exhale before arriving to a complete stop. I waltzed up to the front of the bus, thanked the bus driver, wished him a good night, and stepped off the platform. I turned to face the front doors as they exerted a timid “creek” sound while closing. The engine had a brief moment to unwind before the bus driver stepped on the gas, instituting the engine to procure a full, massive inhale.
As the bus drove away, I looked both ways. The road was clear. The intersection, prior to entering my neighborhood, had no streetlights, therefore one had to exercise caution before walking across. I did not want to keep my parents waiting so I decided to add a little kick in my step.
As I continued walking, I tilted my head up towards the heavens. Spontaneously, the “kick” I had infused in my legs a few minutes ago, began to wear off. I came to a complete stop and my vision had been snatched, once again, by the magnificent display of heavenly bodies suspended above me. I recalled J. Cole’s illustrious words, “gotta see it to believe it.”
I opened my mouth ever so slightly, allowing a miniscule amount of oxygen to seep into my deflated lungs, as my eyes remained locked in on the night sky. Following a brief pause, a tear trickled down the right side of my face. I exhaled ever so faintly and whispered the words, “… I believe… I believe in you.”
