Stardust

My reading in the last few days has included some notable synchronicities.  First, I read this in Terry Tempest Williams’ book When Women Were Birds:

“But what thrilled me most was the fact that millions of meteors burn up every day as they enter our atmosphere. As a result, Earth receives ten tons of dust from outer space. Not only do we take in the world with each breath, we are inhaling the universe.  We are made of stardust.”

Then one of my daily readings from Inward/Outward (www.inwardoutward.org) was William Wordsworth’s poem, “Intimations of Immortality:”

“Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:

The Soul that rises with us, our life’s Star,

Hath had elsewhere its setting,

And cometh from afar:

Not in entire forgetfulness,

And not in utter nakedness,

But trailing clouds of glory do we come

From God, who is our home….”

That leads me back to Miriam Therese Winter who once said, “From stardust we came, and to stardust we return.”

And . . . tomorrow night the moon will be full.  Somehow, it all seems connected and makes such sense to me. I feel such a connection to the life around me that is so easy to miss because it is so ordinary.  The next time I have to dust my house, I will remind myself that I am gathering stardust.  But then what do I do with it?