Tonight’s walk was quite splendid. The sky was clear, the stars
unusually bright, and a keen wind was singing in the wires.
Last night’s was spooky, on account of being certain that I’d
seen something large, but of indeterminate shape and identity, move into the
gateway of the Old Rectory. The first thing I thought about was a little piece
of information I picked up from a TV documentary once: that big cats rarely
attack people from the front, preferring almost without exception to come at
them from behind. That’s a really useful thing to remember when it’s very dark,
you’re on your own, and you’ve just seen something large but of indeterminate
shape and identity move into the gateway of the Old Rectory. I must have a propensity
for remembering useful facts when I perceive myself to be under threat. Oh,
well...
The same documentary said that Indian men working in the
fields and forests often wear masks on the backs of their heads in an attempt
to confuse man-eating tigers. It doesn’t always work, apparently. Sometimes it
just gives the tiger a good laugh as well as a good meal.
Tonight’s walk was different. Tonight I stood and looked at
the stars. It occurred to me how easy it is to imagine the night sky as a two
dimensional canvas with pin holes in it, allowing specks of light to show
through from behind. It’s more difficult to perceive the reality of a three
dimensional space that stretches for billions upon billions of miles. It’s even
difficult to be fully convinced that a star you’re looking at might no longer
exist, since you’re seeing the light that came from it many, many years ago. I
looked at one star and realised that it might have exploded and died before I
was even born. And that gave me an interesting thought.
Suppose stars aren’t really stars at all, but beings in
waiting. Suppose they come to earth and have human incarnations after they’ve
exploded and died. And suppose the star I was looking at became me, and so I
was looking at myself before I died as a star.
That was a nice thought, and rather better than the
contemplation of becoming cat food.
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