JC reminded me of something I had blogged on, a long, long time ago, back in March 2004!
I have always been fascinated by stars, and poets who write about stars…
I don’t remember who is John Lotte however, but isn’t it a delightful coincidence that another John (John Keats) has always been fascinated by stars too?
I have very adorable memories regarding stars in my life. In one of my favourite ones, my best friend L and I were next to each other at the beach at night, looking up to the beautiful expanse of the dark night sky, when I asked her to pick out her favourite star. We closed our eyes, counted to three, and looked up and chose our own favourite star.
“Which is your favourite?!” – L
“The one on the left. I like the way it is so glittery! How about you” – G
“The one in the foremost right there! I think it is the shiniest star!” – L
“Oh!!!” – G
(G and L look up at L’s star dreamily, holding hands)
Then, L’s ‘favourite star’ started moving.
(possibly a Singapore Airlines plane)
“Everything in the world has a hidden meaning. Men, animals, trees, stars, they are all hieroglyphics. When you see them you do not understand them. You think they are really men, animals, trees, stars. It is only years later that you understand.”__Nikos Kazantzakis
When was the last time you looked at the stars?
And you would expect me to write, the beauty and splendour of the night sky, and grandour of a night spent in solitude, in quiet alay, the little diamonds encrusted in the depth of a night. Or more beautiful rhetoric, but I shall not be God, and he alone set the meaning of stars. Still so many have stars as a meaning of their own, and it holds for them that significance which we all see when we look into the night.
But it dawned on me today, that so many of us look at stars. Even the bookish nerd, the ruffian with a jackcoat, the wallflower, the Sacrilopegian cynic, or whatever stereotypes we would have them be, all of us, though we care to deny, have that moment when we were touched to gaze into the stars at night. No matter what we want to believe, the truth is, in every hidden self so many of us look at stars each day wondering which other soul neglected looking at stars, and when we fall in love how we like to muse how no one ever noticed how beautiful that single star at the corner is!
We are not truncated by life and life itself. People are still looking at stars night after night, poets are still dreaming of stars and reading into them dreams and politics, we still draw stars in our sketchbooks, children in Sarajevo still sing to the tune of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. Still we like to believe that yesterday no one looked at the stars and drank in their beauty, that we were the first and always will be. That our love is written in the stars. That lovers could lie on grass and gaze into the intrepid maps at night, over and over again.
That somehow, no matter how ugly life is, that there is that beauty there to take your breath away.
Under piles of history notes and essays, under economics lecture files, under philosophical theories of Sigmund Freud, spilt cups of coffee and the paper stars collapsed on my table, that out there, I have a comfort in the stars, so silent and beautiful, so raped by poets and dreamers-
“O Star, my lofty highness…”John Lotte
– Written, March 2004 in Surreal