Starstruck Silence

Posted by Luke Kurey on

This morning, like many mornings, I rolled from bed, walked outside and immediately was laughing. I laughed with surprise joy at the sight of the celestial heavens.

 I lean obsessive, and right now that attention – conscious thoughts, daydreams, anxieties, enthusiasm and even sleeping dreams – it is all fixed on building the house. Probably this is a good thing, so that sooner than later we can live in the house rather than near the house but in the garage. I go to bed with a half dozen projects and their intricacies rolling through my inner slideshow, materials and tools and techniques slipping from their neatly defined categories and melting into a creative cauldron of house building.

 I wake at 5 AM, and I find myself laying on my cot in the sunroom of the very house that occupies my consciousness, dreams and waking labor. (It’s no wonder that houses have soul. The builders have poured their own into it). The day’s project list starts to populate my mind, sometimes with the sleep’s subconscious adding a newly realized concern or an insight of solution. My mind starting to buzz with 10 different projects and ideas, I stand and walk a few steps to the back door, past the miter saw and assorted construction materials, pushing open the storm door and stepping out.

The juxtaposition slams my monkey-brain stream of conciousness to a halt. The infinite expanse of the cosmos - the lights that shone upon the barn 100 years ago, the celestial beacons that have hung above this landscape for millennia, the forever enduring sea of stars – this cosmos shines forth in awesome beauty. For a precious and powerful moment under the shining sky I am stilled. Silenced. The house is gone, I am gone. I chuckle. It turns to a giggle and to deep belly laughs and finally a whoop of joy. Thank you, starry heavens.

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Building a house is not super easy. It’s kind of consuming. So is building a farm. The stars and the moon help to keep it all light and breezy.

 Tomorrow I’m killing and starting to butcher our pigs. Today I pet them, thanked them, told them I love them and said goodbye.

I hope the stars are out in the morning.