Where dreams are born

Music [album: A.I., Where Dreams Are Born]
 I close my eyes and there in the shadows, I see your light:

“This picture was taken from deep space, near the edge of our solar system, looking at it, you see Earth as a pale blue dot[1].
That’s us, our home. On it, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever lived, lived out their lives. The aggregate of all our joys and sufferings, thousands of confident religions, ideologies and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilizations, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every hopeful child, every mother and father, every inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every superstar, every supreme leader, every saint and sinner in the history of our species, lived there on that mote of dust, suspended in a sunbeam.

The earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that in glory and in triumph they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of the dot on scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner of the dot. How frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds. Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the universe, are challenged by this point of pale light.”[2]

Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In near obscurity we gaze out into the void of that all encompassing vastness. In our minds eye we wonder at the creatures and ways of life which exist in these remote places. And now, it is our quest as explorers, to visit one pale blue dot. There we will find and trace the life of a human being as he lived free in his native, wild environment.

Drawing closer and from behind the rim of the moon, in slow-motion moments of immense majesty, there emerges a sparkling blue and white jewel, a light, delicate sky-blue sphere laced with slowly swirling veils of white, rising gradually like a small pearl in a thick sea of black mystery. Having crossed the barrier, between the reality you were immersed in a few moments ago and this place–here, relax in quiet anticipation. Enjoy the growing thrill, that soon we’ll meet; you, and a creature that inhabited this distant world.

The central North American continent is rimmed by the great curved limb of the Earth. There is a thin halo of blue held close, and beyond, black space. We hold our breath, in momentary awe, pondering the ethereal beauty of this inhabited planet hanging silently in space. We witness a tremendous visual spectacle, but it is viewed in silence. We feel unfulfilled in the presence of such majesty: There is no grand musical accompaniment; no triumphant, inspired sonata or symphony. But we understand, and rightfully so, that each one of us must write the music of the sphere, ourselves.

West of the  Great Lakes, we descend into the heartland of central Minnesota and drift  northwest across the Twin Cities of Minneapolis- St. Paul.

Dropping through space, we have come to this far place. Here, where there is written a score to the music– the symphony of thought and activity that was the flesh and spirit of one sun  warmed creature, that lived on this pale blue dot.

I,  Larry Francis Pierce

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