Solar Flare

      What is typically not discussed is that all humans are trapped on a spinning ball of dirt, whirling through space in the neighborhood of a giant nuclear reactor. This reactor, the Sun, while it provides us with the necessary energy for life and sustenance also bombards us with cosmic rays and occasionally millions of tons of electromagnetic death-material. If there is any consciousness to the galactic figures, the Sun expresses its opinion of us, or lack thereof quite frequently. Every solar flare is a hiccup from Apollo and humans should be humbled. The beautiful, majestic displays across the sky during a solar storm is evidence that we could be wiped out in brilliance and loveliness or by a cold, dark sleep. The universe is quite capricious and the best we can do is be grateful for our lot, remember how fragile and temporary life is, and find the beauty in everything.

     When I was 24 and living in Southern Illinois my friends and I were heading down a long stretch of road one evening in the spring. It was one of those forever sunsets that turns the atmosphere into a sepia print. But on the opposite side of the sky as the sun was a ribbon of purple and silver, as though the night were creeping in, and had inserted a finger through the sky already. My friend Rob Smith, a soldier at the time and the most level-headed of us noticed it first "Hey guys, that thing is growing." Joel Blaies, behind the wheel, a devout skeptic who tested everything pulled over. "Oh my god, that looks amazing." I was in the backseat and the last one on my feet. The purple and silver ribbon was pulsating, becoming red, neon waves flashing out, which left a brown glow whenever the flashes waned. Silver streaks of what I first took to be stars linked, a spiderweb birthing itself and stretching across the sky. Purple chased silver, streaks of fire running along live wires, turning pink, white of a form I'd never known before, white that included everything, the spiderweb shape bleeding into shapelessness. As amorphous as the link it shared with us. "It's talking to us." I heard myself say. This was the universe's heartbeat. This was the Big Bang catching up, this was our lives, so small and forgettable, but still a part of something begun so long ago, so intertwined. The heartbeat filled us and the world was every color before they all bled right back to the thin purple ribbon that began, slipping away, tendrils evaporating. Nothingness. The sun set. Hardly a word was said as we climbed back in the car. I was dropped off first. When I came inside my roommates were watching the news. Told me of a solar storm, tracked by scientists. They were wrong. The Cosmos painted a picture to open a door and give us a kiss.