It Happened Again

It happened again tonight.  I stepped outside after dusk had fully become night.  And it hit me.  Nothing literally hit me; a thought, an idea, a feeling hit me.

I live far from the sounds of the village, or city.  At this time of the day, early night if you would, there's enough light in the sky, either from a receding sun, stars or the moon, to see the black shadows of tall Douglas firs reaching high over my head.  The only life besides that of nature is behind me in the house I just left.  It's cool, quiet, hardly a the rustle of a leaf in the trees, if even that.

I'm alone.  Not alone because I stepped out with no companion; alone because at that moment there is nothing but me and the ball I standing on, a ball so large and diverse that I will never see it all.  There may be billions more like me standing, walking, sitting, sleeping on other parts of this ball but because I am only me and can be no one or anything but me, I am alone--in myself.  I am singular.

My pace is steady, the strength is adequate, for living on this ball for seven decades I feel darn good.  The feeling I had is of comfort, of peace, of happiness, even a form of satisfaction.  There's something out there, not behind the Douglas fir or lying in a bush, something greater than all I know, greater than all collectively can know, something that makes me want to shout out that I am glad to be able to step out and be hit by this feeling.  Someone once called this something God; the name stuck.  Others have given it other names and because it comes to each of us individually and separately, none of us can fully understand or explain it.  One once wrote that "God" merely said that "I am."  So it may be.

Now I prepare to sleep through this night and as I lie down, before I become unconscious to this world, I will say "Thank you for another day on this beautiful earth among these wonderful people."