I got one of those random promo-trash emails in my inbox at work today with the subject: Name a star for someone special. I thought that was kind of pretentious, and of course proceeded to delete the email before even reading. It's kind of ironic to me that we who feel so disconnected from even our neighbours find such comfort in identifying ourselves with the stars, mysterioius fiery spheres beyond our reach, evidence that we are miniscule and our lives infinitely microcosmic.
I've always kind of wondered what Abraham thought when he looked up at the stars -- obviously interplanetary exploration was not even a concept in man's mind at that time, so what were the stars to him? And truly, how is that different from us? I'm sure he had his theories: pin pricks in the fabrick of material existence letting through the brilliance of heaven; the dust from heaven's kitchen floor left over from the recipe for earth; the jewels of the spirit world embedded in the canopy of God's ubiquitous cloak; the very darkness of being flecked with infinite good -- this last a metaphor for what it means to be a part of this world. Or maybe he just took it for granted as many do today and simply didn't question just why they were up there or what they were.
Inquisitiveness has always come at a cost; those who dare to leap past the lull of ingenuosity put themselves at great risk: look at it -- ridicule, torture, excommunication, alienation; even today's Babel Towers come at great cost and the price is often ruin. I wonder often if and when we'll actually get up there. We've been building that tower to the heavens for thousands of years and we can't seem to get past the gravity of considering ourselves gods; sorry, wrong word -- advanced.
A little lower than the angels, a little lower than Elohim. What does it mean?
The interminable stream of questions as I gaze out at the passing traffic on the 5 freeway clogs my mind most days; maybe one day they'll just be stars to me as well. Or maybe one day we'll reach the heavens afterall and find out exactly who we're supposed to be.

It's amazing how a turn on life's road can completely change your perspective. I listened to a friend of mine talking about a car she wants to buy -- it's pretty much her thing right now. She's even thinking of changing jobs for it. I don't blame her, in a sense. Life is pretty much take it as it comes sometimes, so you do what you can to get what you want, and if all things do not match up, you cut your losses and see how many toys you can get before all goes to pot, hits the fan, [other cliche unpleasant metaphor here].
In all honesty I think would be happy if certain smaller things could be taken care of, but I found myself lurking in Vanity Fair last night, nikesoccer.com, looking at iD soccer cleats. I play every so often and I thought about how cool it would be if I had a black pair of iDs with blue trim and my initials on the back, and along the side in metallic silver "Lionsclub" like some weapon of mystery forged in the depths of....(this is where the dream dissipated) probably some Taiwan sweatshop where kids are earning about 50 cents of my $80 plus shipping and handling -- then, THEN I realized just what it was I was in control of...
But I don't think it's an error to dream; actually it does many of us good.