Sometimes the heavens feel extra eternal and forever if that makes any sense. Sometimes I look up at the wispy clouds and beyond to the moon and beyond to the stars and still beyond to the black nothing and my stomach flip flops with mystery and excitement. Last night was one of those nights. Carley, Maggie, and I stood outside in our pajamas and bare feet with full and empty sky above us and gusts of salty ocean air coming from the East. And, then we did what any sensible person would do and ran into the wind as fast as we could. Barefoot down the street we ran back and forth with our arms outstretched trying to catch the wind in our palms, but it of course is too clever for that and always escapes between our fingers.
As I ran with the moon smiling down on me, the taste of Atlantic salt on my tongue, and the wind whipping my hair about stories and poetry came to mind as they so often do....
Science Fiction Cradlesong
by C.S. Lewis
By and by Man will try
To get out into the sky,
Sailing far beyond the air
From Down and Here to Up and There.
Stars and sky, sky and stars
Make us feel the prison bars.
Suppose it done. Now we ride
Closed in steel, up there, outside
Through our port-holes see the vast
Heaven-scape go rushing past.
Shall we? All that meets the eye
Is sky and stars, stars and sky.
Points of light with black between
Hang like a painted scene
Motionless, no nearer there
Than on Earth, everywhere
Equidistant from our ship.
Heaven has given us the slip.
Hush, be still. Outer space
Is a concept, not a place.
Try no more. Where we are
Never can be sky or star.
From prison, in a prison, we fly;
There's no way into the sky.
“Stars are beautiful, but they may not take an active part in anything, they must just look on for ever. It is a punishment put on them for something they did so long ago that no star now knows what it was. So the older ones have become glassy-eyed and seldom speak (winking is the star language), but the little ones still wonder.” --Peter Pan by J.M. Barrie
As I ran with the moon smiling down on me, the taste of Atlantic salt on my tongue, and the wind whipping my hair about stories and poetry came to mind as they so often do....
Science Fiction Cradlesong
by C.S. Lewis
By and by Man will try
To get out into the sky,
Sailing far beyond the air
From Down and Here to Up and There.
Stars and sky, sky and stars
Make us feel the prison bars.
Suppose it done. Now we ride
Closed in steel, up there, outside
Through our port-holes see the vast
Heaven-scape go rushing past.
Shall we? All that meets the eye
Is sky and stars, stars and sky.
Points of light with black between
Hang like a painted scene
Motionless, no nearer there
Than on Earth, everywhere
Equidistant from our ship.
Heaven has given us the slip.
Hush, be still. Outer space
Is a concept, not a place.
Try no more. Where we are
Never can be sky or star.
From prison, in a prison, we fly;
There's no way into the sky.
“Stars are beautiful, but they may not take an active part in anything, they must just look on for ever. It is a punishment put on them for something they did so long ago that no star now knows what it was. So the older ones have become glassy-eyed and seldom speak (winking is the star language), but the little ones still wonder.” --Peter Pan by J.M. Barrie
"Besides, I can't fly.' [said Wendy]
'I'll teach you.' [Peter replied]
'Oh, how lovely to fly.'
'I'll teach you how to jump on the wind's back, and then away we go.'
'Oo!' she exclaimed rapturously."--Peter Pan by J.M. Barrie
"I have come home at last! This is my real country! I belong here. This is the land I have been looking for all my life, though I never knew it till now. The reason why we loved the old Narnia is that it sometimes looked a little like this. Bree-hee-hee! Come further up, come further in!"
He shook his mane and sprang forward into a great gallop--a Unicorn's gallop, which, in our world, would have carried him out of sight in a few moments. But ore a most strange thing happened. Everyone else began to run, and the found, to their astonishment, that they could keep up with him: not only the Dogs and the humans but even fat little Puzzle and short-legged Poggin the Dwarf. The air flew in their faces as if they were driving fast in a car without a windscreen. The country flew past as if they were seeing it from the windows of an express train. Faster and faster they raced, but no one got hot or tired or out of breath...
..If one could run without getting tired, I don't think one would often want to do anything else."--The Last Battle by C.S. Lewis
