We Are Stardust

As I was walking through the park that is next to our house I came upon a patch of thistles in bloom. Though we often think of these plants as noxious weeds, I found beauty in their spiky blossoms. And looking at the light purple blossoms against the green all around reminded me of Joni Mitchell’s song lyric,

We Are Stardust

We are stardust
We are golden
And we’ve got to get ourselves
Back to the garden

   — Joni Mitchell, Woodstock

Contemplating the world around me and finding beauty even in the weeds (which are simply plants growing where we don’t want them to grow) I think about how I need to spend a lot of time in nature. As Joni Mitchell says, “…we’ve got to get ourselves back to the garden.”

My days are often filled with distractions and activities that don’t nourish me. Hurry, hurry, worry, worry. I don’t thrive when I get caught up in social media, news feeds, and mindless consumption.

I prefer a few close relationships, lots of time to wander in nature, creating photographs, keeping current on the news but not overdosing on it 24-7, reading, and family time. My clothing is simple and functional and our home decor focuses on letting in the light and being comfortable.

There is not much that I need to consume other than good healthy food and occasional replacements for items that wear out. The things that light me up with joy are simple things like the intoxicatingly beautiful scent of basswood trees in bloom, fresh cherries picked from the cherry tree that I planted myself, birds at the bird feeders, flowers on my walks, and a sliver of moon in the night sky.

First crop of cherries from the bush cherry tree I planted almost 10 years ago

Remember, we are stardust. Everything that we love comes from the stars. And life is a mystery and miracle to even exist. Life is a gift.

The Poem About Taking out the Trash

In the vast emptiness of darkness,
Stars are being born and are burning out;
Galaxies expand, into what I have no idea,
And dark matter fills the infinite space
That has no bounds and no limits.
In the middle of all this, I stand
In a single moment and know how small I am.
A group of atoms, the size of nothing in comparison.
I am the observer of the play on a tiny stage.
The onlooker who watches the painting
Of a picture that few stop to see.
The listener of a song where I hear only a fraction
Of a fraction of a note in a song that will be forever sung
And that has been being sung for eternity upon eternity,
Before I knew breath and sound.
I am but dust, stardust, a breath of a life, smoke
Rising into oblivion, here then gone as quickly.
Under all of this, I take out the trash.”
― Eric Overby, Senses

How do you get back to the garden? Maybe you look up at the stars when you take out the trash. Or maybe you think about the fact that everything comes from stardust.

I am sonnets full of stardust within the meter of my skin.
― Patricia Robin Woodruff

May you walk in beauty.

Gracie in a mellow mood. She is also made of stardust.