Tag Archives: space

Truck Parade

Here in Victoria, one of the more curious Christmas traditions has got to be the annual truck parade.  The local trucking industry gets together and has a parade of festively decorated trucks crawl along one of the main roads out of town to one of the suburbs where they are part of a charity event.  Along the way, the drivers keep up an incessant honking of horns, mostly of the basso profundo variety, punctuated by the odd siren or two.

Tonight, my after dinner walk started with a close encounter with a raccoon, who quickly shimmied up a tree to stare at me eye to eye. Interspecies communication is perplexing sometimes, as it was tonight, so I rambled on. Soon enough the silence was broken by the distant cacophony of the trucks.  The noise the horns produce can be described as charmingly obnoxious, kind of annoying but at the same time endearing, in a folksy kind of way.

Like most of the northern hemisphere we are experiencing cold weather but tonight the clear skies more than made up for the frosty temperature.  The night sky was absolutely stunning, considering that the hill rests at the edge of a modestly sized provincial capitol. Tonight the stars shone bright against the void, only slightly dimmed by a not quite quarter moon and the carpet of lights that defines the urban environment. Hilltop views at night are awesome wherever you are. Here on the edge of the Pacific Ocean we also have the benefit of having some of the cleanest air on the planet, which adds to the overall experience. I digress.

So I was at one of my favourite vantage points, staring out past the lights of the city, looking over the horizon to people I care about and places I love and places I’ve never seen, looking up at the sky at a swirl of starlight and I pondered the antiquity of each twinkle. All the while the truck drivers pounded their horns, blasting random bursts of sonic energy or leaning on a note like a tightfisted preacher.

It was sort of annoying and distracting but I tried to let it roll through me and over me.  I looked into the archive of creation, the distant stars and galaxies and whatever lies beyond and the honking of the horns prompted me to understand that all those distant lights from long ago must have been accompanied by epic noise.  Those tiny lights all represent enormous explosions of energy and matter and somewhere those sounds still reverberate. At that moment I was able to transcend my annoyance with the intrusion of honking horns by using them as proxies for the symphony that accompanied the creation of those distant lights. For a moment, a brief moment, I heard the music of the spheres.

 

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Aliens

I am not looking for aliens who come by spaceships

Like dream fantasies played out in movies or TV shows

Displaying our collective projections of fear and braggadocio

 

I look for the aliens who aren’t

 

Aliens who are at home everywhere and nowhere

In whatever shape they care to inhabit

Or shapeless, shift their consciousness into alignment

With others for a moment or an age

 

I look for aliens who aren’t bound by singular lives

Conforming to singular rules

But slide effortlessly from micro to macro

Moving through timescales without consideration for regularity

 

I look for aliens who revel in creation and the unexpected

Who have no eye for politics or power

Since they see through those assumptions

With the ambivalence of limitless freedom

 

I look for aliens who are as insubstantial

As the emptiness within us all

But are as full as the heavens above and below

Aliens who disembody reality into a vortex of possibility

Playing outside the multiverse we think we glimpse the limits of

 

I look for aliens with my third eye and my higher self

Forgetting that searches for otherness

Are plagued with obscurity

Until I remember that we are all connected

That there are no aliens

And that the road of discovery leads ultimately within

 

 

David Trudel      ©  2013

 

 

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Cosmology

Everything is from nothing

Nothing is where it began and where it will end

Cosmic nothing, which is vacuum

But nothing is an illusion

As much as everything eludes its truth

Since the vacuum is full of energy

Matter and anti-matter constantly attracting and repelling

A never-ending quantum cocktail party

Cycling through loops of creation and annihilation

I’ve been at parties like that

But the party to watch is the galaxy’s 100 billion stars

Aswirl in brilliant radiance but dancing darkly

Or standing back even further

100 billion galaxies sweetly raving on until the bitter end

Yet out of all this cosmic richness normal matter is rare

The fact of the matter is that out of all these stars

All this space and animated dust only 5 percent is normal matter

Which is hardly normal since fully 25 percent is dark matter

While the biggest elephant in the room is dark energy

Mysterious and opposed to gravity

Which is a law of nature so dark energy

Is cosmic anarchy

Expanding and accelerating exponentially

Leaving dark matter haloes clumped in the nevervoid

Never emitting light on any wavelength

Driving the formation of cosmic structure

Quantum space/time foam bubbling with cosmic inflation

Quantum energy fluctuating with tiny mass irregularities

Within the cosmic web

While we listen for echoes

Echoes of the big bang

Cosmic harmonics send microwaves everywhere

So that the memory of creation is all pervasive

As are echoes of small primordial perturbations that grew galaxies

In the long nights of early days

Quantum ripples that will never reach a further shore

Since the fabric of space and time keeps stretching

Further than a politician’s truth

Into nothing, which is the end

 

 

David Trudel   ©  2013

 

 

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Space Between

In my cosmology

Brilliant lights of countless stars

Are far surpassed by infinity’s black emptiness

Velvet backdrop for a color popping canvas

Contrasting depth to lights pure brilliance

And like the sky I see above

My life has vast stretches of emptiness

Blackness

Against which shines those starcrossed moments

The supernovas

Big bangs

Celestial events

But really I am much more familiar with the space between the moments

The lonely purview of a lost soul cast adrift

In a silent vacuum coldly floating randomly

A dark thought in a dark place

Unsparked and alone

 

 

David Trudel  © 2012

 

 

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Times

Sometimes

Now there’s a concept

Some plus times

Segments

Slices

Sections

Arranged by some unifying force

Like space

Space between the moments

Empty

Black

Quiet

Sometimes silence is what we need to hear

Sometimes blackness is what we need to see

Sometimes emptiness is what we need to be

David Trudel  © 2012

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