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*Purrito graces this issue with his fluffy paws. |
Lately, when these moments roll over me, I’ve been trying to adjust my perspective to accommodate an even larger scale. One that reduces quantum tangles of present panic, future fears, and my brief pearl of existence to an even tinier dot in the universe.
I remind myself that if I feel like I’m flying on the edge of everything . . . I am. In fact, we all are. Our home galaxy, the Milky Way, rides the edge of the Laniakea Supercluster. In Hawaiian, Laniakea signifies “immense heaven” (National Radio Astronomy Observatory). This gigantic supercluster contains a host of 100,000 galaxies interlaced through a web of cosmic filaments.
And if I close my eyes, I can imagine myself in all this starry serenity, my minuscule mote of consciousness floating freely among throngs of gossamer glory many magnitudes brighter and older and long-lived than me. Somehow, I find it comforting to remember I really am just a mortal pinch of shimmer dust in the grand scheme of things! So why shiver and tremble at my own inconsequentiality when I could bask in the colossal glitter of cosmic coordinates?
Other times, when I wish to ground my scattered thoughts and emotions back in my body and re-orient my sense of calm, I remind myself that our Milky Way is also floating quite near the center of the KBC Void, a massive spherical region of space empty of almost all stars and planets for two billion light-years across! (Elizabeth Howell, 2017). Yet this deserted space still embraces us, too.
So, my fellow Earthlings, whenever the wild rush of BEING grows overwhelming, take a moment to lose yourself in the Laniakea Supercluster and refresh your sense of sparkle! Then, recenter your peace in the void that encircles every last star in the Milky Way, including our own life-giving sun. It’s all very human to feel and be more than one thing at once—
For we are all simultaneously lost in the rich sparkle of the Laniakea Supercluster, and found in the lonely vastness of the KBC Void.
*Also, the last thing I like to do when I’m striving for a more copacetic state of existence (or to just stop being a super insomniac) is to listen to green noise. It amplifies mid-range frequencies of sound, and our minds perceive green noise as something similar to water—almost like “ocean waves” (Jay Vera Summer, 2025). Green noise echoes like cosmic music in the background of my brain. Or maybe it just reminds me of the dryer spinning a load outside my childhood bedroom at night . . . a familiar, soothing comfort that reorients my tired soul to self.
Fancy Ink
*I wrote this poem countless years ago. I’m including it because it’s also about the “immense heavens” we feel inside sometimes. It’s meant to be read aloud, and quickly before you lose breath—
My Favorite Blue
The sky inside
hurts me sometimes.
Not today.
The outside upside
high mile of blue
topaz shining
won't let my inside
downslide win.
Cerulean cool
freezes my hot
running tears into
prism-drop
sky reflectors
a sky that never sets
never lets me
d
o
w
n
for blue wings
(my favorite blue)
guide me up and out!
Sources:
Howell, Elizabeth. (June 14, 2017). “We live in a Cosmic Void.” Space.com.
https://www.space.com/37191-we-live-in-a-cosmic-void.html
“Newly Identified Galactic Supercluster Is Home to the Milky Way.” National Radio Astronomy Observatory. <https://public.nrao.edu/news/supercluster-gbt/>
Summer, Jay Vera. (July 29, 2025). “What is Green Noise and How Can It Help You Sleep?” Sleep Foundation. <https://www.sleepfoundation.org/noise-and-sleep/what-is-green-noise>
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