scijessreads

I find comfort in words. In stories. One of my tattoos has a favorite line from the book “The Starless Sea,” – We are all stardust and stories. The connection of life to a story, to the infinite and unknown, and the swirl of chaos and the universe that binds everyone to each other and to everything… that is what I find to be a balm when everything around me is fractured and uncertain.

There is so much that we cannot control, and that I try to shove down and ignore. But in phrases and thoughts and the words of those authors and individuals that I come across, sometimes something sticks. It worms its’ way into my brain and sits there, marinating. And in the hours when I need it, they surface and remind me that I am not alone, that the universe is vast, and that there is so much more than what is right in front of my eyes. The stories remind me that I am a single thread in the story of time, small – seemingly insignificant – but an important part of the entire tapestry. A single thread that while invisible on the whole, still plays an important part in linking other stories together. In playing a part in the ebb and flow of the universe and the passing of time.

Some of the words of others that I have been going back to lately…

(In order – from Doctor Who / Battlestar Galactica / Welcome to Night Vale / ACOTAR / The Starless Sea and The Night Circus)

I am and always will be the optimist. The hoper of far-flung hopes and the dreamer of improbable dreams. 

We are all stories. In the end, just make it a good one. 

To the rational mind nothing is inexplicable, only unexplained. 

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Just because you don’t know your direction doesn’t mean you don’t have one. 

All of this has happened before. All of this will happen again. 

Remember not everyone has a happy ending. So be happy when you can.

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Death is only the end if you assume the story is about you.

The question is: are we living a life that is worth the harm?

We understand so much. But the sky behind those lights – mostly void, partially stars – that sky reminds us we don’t understand even more. 

All the beauty in the world was made within the oppressive limitations of time, and death, and impermanence. 

We are perfectly imperfect. That is all we need to be. 

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To the stars who listen, and the dreams that are answered.

We are all broken, in our own ways. In places no one might see. 

You could rattle the stars. You could do anything. If only you dared. 

When you spend so long trapped in darkness, you find that the darkness begins to stare back. 

Only you can decide what breaks you. 

Don’t let the hard days win. 

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We are all stardust and stories.

And there are never really endings, happy or otherwise.

Important things hurt sometimes.

Perhaps it is controlling the chaos within more than the chaos without.