Look out into the night sky. Look at all the stars. How far does their light shine? Where did they come from? A star cluster amidst a nebula. We see a mother birthing forth. A womb of cosmic nature. Her children, the stars that fill the sky.
But we sit and look from our Earthly perch and stars we definately see. We see stars galore placed frequently across a spance of space that seems infinite. This Earthly place, with our sun and its lifeless planets, a solar system without neighbors to be seen. It seems quite an oddity.
Stationary stars and cosmic bodies generic in form. Is something missing? Why are we the ones only to see a trillion plus cosmic entities without intelligent identity? They sit within our view, even what Hubble knew didn’t change the object seen. We see more of the same.
For in another place, across a barrier unbenounced to us all, a nebula births stars out of conscious intent. Those stars are birthed as singular conscious forms. Their light is their first expression. The journey of a star child has begun.
Twinkle, twinkle the children winkle to each other as they move about their space called home. A shooting star to them is but a mode of locomotion. Star clusters form and dissipate as a social activity, not laws of gravity. They learn from all around them. What will a star learn to become?
A consciousness of energy is a star in basic identity. A singular unit birthed to be free to express itself. A mere twinkle is its humble beginnings. For what it is, what it can do, and what it will express is beyond its wildest conscious knowing. It shines on and off. It flashes. It leaves the light on. It turns the light off. Soon, the expression begins to expand as it learns from fellow stars.
A conscious light projection system. A light of conscious intent. Invisible in form, or seen as a source of light, a star is consciousness nonetheless. A black hole it is, a shining source of light it is. Soon, it learns colors. It learns a form of morse code with light, its language is known. The twinkles of activity and movement of stars in this realm are indescribable. Children playing, a consciousness anew birthed forth among many. Stars filling the sky to learn and know why.
Colors and light become images in form. Soon a star is able to further express its identity. Geometric shapes and fractals in space, a star does learn much. Vibration produces sound for others around to sense what this star is learning afar. Much does this star progress. Stars helping each other to learn.
Soon a star will see a planet and see what it can become. Like a bird in flight, a star will look upon that planet and observe all the life inhabiting. The star will wonder how it is done. Stars receive further teachers too.
Somewhere, sometime, a star learns how to express itself with its first body. What may be imagined as a ball or a hooded shape, a star becomes semi-solid in movement and shape. It enters a school of learning. Like a shape that can morph, a star begins its course of learning how to be all that it sees. Its light of consciousness has the ability to do much. The coursework begins. The expressions learned, imitated, and eventually expressed with individuality. There is much love behind what is taught. The joy of experiencing new expression is the teacher’s lot.
“I want to learn to do what others do,” a star says of other’s play. The other’s play is taught to all stars along their way. Over time, what is learned increases in complexity, the expressions multiply infinitely. A star learns to do much.
Eventually a basic body becomes more complex, a star learn to express as many bodies. To imitate a shape is to build upon an ability to morph in multiplicity. To be multiple shapes in form and express that is fun. The options become limitless. The learnings are vast, the modes of operating, their numbers, are cast. They build a shell and fill it with whatever praytell. An architect of rhyme a star becomes in time. Shape, color, form, texture, sound, language, movement, how many ways can a star create? It becomes limitless.
Until a day arrives. A star awakens. It looks in a mirror and sees a face and a body. It sees hair and eyes, skin and a mouth. It yawns trying to awaken to the day. The scratch of an itch. The need for a shower, the stench. A home it does walk through wearing cloths it has laundered too. The click of the lock, off it goes by the clock.
The nebula forgotten. The star learning begotten is a memory it needs not now. Does it know it is living within everything it has learned to create? This star remembers.
For there is a place where stars do move freely. Cosmic and celestial bodies are filled with intelligence, expressing dynamically, not sitting statically. Stars become comets, planets, suns, moons, solar systems, universes, and beyond. Stars join in and become plants, animals, rocks, the whole lot. They become not quite like here, but more alive is the normal, Dear.
A flower singing to a sun in summer mode, the choir joins in. The flower becomes a wolf howling to a moon playing facial pantomimes for the children of time. The wolf becomes a whale to reverberate from a bellowing bottom of a sea. We gather together to all of these. Flocks of seagulls with the speed to chase a sunset.
The descriptions are vast. This star remembers the cast. Of star and teacher, of friends and adventures. Of a nebula mother who brought forth much wonder.
