There Isn’t Enough Time With You

There was a time when as the stars passed by in the night outside my window, I would stare out at them with hopeful eyes. They were most beautiful thing I had ever seen. So full of potential, so full of life, so grandiose and yet so small in comparison to the black sky. I saw my future in them, every star a new possibility and awed at their very presence. And they filled my heart, with such great wonder.


Isn’t it amazing that we share the same time as every other person on this planet Earth, and yet when we are together, each passing moment seems to move so unforgivably faster.

How ironic it is, that no matter how much time I get with you, each second still seems to shorten its length, and that the time I do get vanishes, more fleeting than he last. The more I love you, the more that time seems to slip away from me without my permission. And as I love you more, each and every day. And each and every day I come to realise, more so than before, that no matter how much time I get with you, it will never be enough.

How remarkable it is, that mundane tasks are now no longer taxing. As I make coffee in the morning; if it is for myself, my feet scuff along the carpet and my eyes roll around my head uncouthly. I loosely lift the kettle and the weight of it clashes against my mug. I rub my eyes and shield them from the light of day, as I consider returning to bed instead, and snoozing until I no longer can.

But when I make coffee for you, when I have the pleasure – my heels lift off of the floor as I walk to the kitchen. I select ground of coffee that look the freshest, I stir for longer than usual, to make sure the sugar that you like does not settle at the bottom of the mug that I bought you. I clean the rim with a dishtowel, to ensure it looks as good as I hope it tastes and then I carry it slowly, and I bring it to you with a smile on my face.

I will never tire, not for one day, at the look you give me when I enter the room. The way your resting body seems to come to life, and your eyes meet mine. The way your body rises, with new air, and the way you seem to brighten up the room with every breath. That smile that you give me… that beautiful smile that appears from nowhere. It renders me vulnerable every time.

As the day begins to pass with you, never once is there a moment when I am not completely and utterly in love.

Never before, could I imagined that a human so beautiful, so thoughtful, so kind, and so wonderful could exist in this world, let alone choose to spend their time with me. Never before, could I have thought someone could be so delicate and fragile, and yet so strong and fierce all at once. So caring, so clever, and so determined as you are. Never before could I have dreamed, that a room could be brightened, and that the grey of colours could dissipate into the background, just by your very presence. You bring about the sun to shine the smiles of faces. You are the warmth, through the night.

I could watch the hair fall over the corner of your glasses a thousand times, and still catch my jaw in awe of falling strands. I would watch as your curled fingers grasp around them, and pull them back into place behind your left ear. If I’m very lucky, you’ll smile at me as you do it. And just as in the morning, it will take me by surprise. Suddenly I’m smiling too; although I think I have been for a while and not realised it until now.

At night you sit on the couch with a blanket cradling your toes. Your legs are folded underneath you, and if a book is not in front of your eyes then you hand rests gently against your chin as you “watch” something on TV. Really, we’re both just trying not to stare at one another. Still, I play the game. I’ll watch random iridescent images flash in the iris of your eyes. A slightly skewed version of those images on your eyes reflects onto your glasses, dancing. You close your eyes. Slowly, your eye lashes begin to open, and you look at me.

I still melt. Every time. If I’m lucky, you’ll give in and look at me first. You’ll shake your head – same as I do. We’re laughing; we’re smiling. Because still it is unbelievable a concept to us, that we love each other as much as we do.


There was a time when as the stars passed by in the night outside my window, I would stare out at them with hopeful eyes. They were most beautiful thing I had ever seen. So full of potential, so full of life, so grandiose and yet so small in comparison to the black sky. I saw my future in them, every star a new possibility and awed at their very presence. And they filled my heart, with such great wonder.

But that was a time.  Now, as I walk to bed, I do not stare up at the sky, and the splendour of the great beyond outside my window. I close the curtains; I don’t need them anymore.

I lie in bed, and struggle to stay awake for as long as I can; for the dreams I’ll have, could be no comparison to the reality of you. My eyes begin to falter, and I stare at your face as they do. I wish for just one more day; so that I can spend it with you.

And as sleep comes over upon me, I do not miss those days when I gazed out at the sky. For I no longer see my future in the stars, but instead I see them in you.

Discussion: Language, without barometer

Suppose that in ten million years, humanity has been long wiped off the face of the planet. Some life still remains, but it has regressed to a more primitive state, due to some cataclysmic event, caused by our own iniquity, or some element of chance.
No animal that could understand the basics of calculus has existed on the rock called Earth for a very long time.

When one day, entirely by chance, our no longer blue planet is discovered, by some nomadic civilisation, who managed to achieve travel into the stars without using that same technology to blow each themselves up. In the ruins alone, under the assumption that concrete has eroded into mere particles that blew in the wind, and pages from books lost their ink; this civilisation would be able to piece together very little of what we were. Even if somehow some homestead had managed to endure the withering of time – if it had been cocooned in a blanket of ice, for instance; where would you even begin to understand what objects were?

A slab of metal and glass filled with silicon lines, in the corner of a room, where every piece of furniture is pointed at it. Knives and forks on the dinner table, for fighting no doubt. Window frames on the second floor, because we could jump so high, and often used that for quick access. Cloth in wooden containers, powdered energy in glass jars, animal carcasses in large white frozen boxes. It would be a frightening world of guesswork without a basis by which to guess. Everyone has had that experience of trying to tell a story, that was funny at the time, but after telling it out loud you find the other person does not find it so. Think of this, except not only do you not speak the same language, but you share no history, no culture, no prospects, no allegiances, and perhaps not even the same galaxy.

Now let’s suggest that humanity as a collective decides that the idea of a future civilisation discovering our remains and not being able to fabricate who we were is just too harsh a thought to bare. So they decide to devise a solution to this, or at least to devise a means in which to help these future nomads. And as a collective, they have decided to accept applications from anyone on the planet, and accept any ideas anyone on the planet may have on how best to communicate with the future visitors.

The problem then becomes the focus of this article: How do you communicate with these visitors? How do you construct a language, without barometer? In our own world, translations of works are inherently different to the language in which they were originally written, mainly because there is no word which translates over 100% – but at least we have something by which we can vaguely relate it to. But with an alien visitor -you don’t even have a set of words, objects, animals, or plants, by which you could guarantee you share. Not only this, but you cannot even predict the senses this alien might use to perceive the world around them. It is not enough to suggest you could communicate in a language that is a concatenation of a number of languages that are most frequently used or most expressive; because you cannot guarantee this creature has ears. Or perhaps they do but do not hear in the same frequency as we do. Perhaps you wish to communicate in symbols? – Well it has taken us thousands of years to build up semiotics to the point we can look at something and register to which category it belongs to at a glance, and even now most humans struggle with all of them, they differ in time and they differ from culture to culture. Equally, as before, the visiting nomads may not have eyes. Or if they do, maybe they do not see colour in the same range that we do. Lets say that they do have eyes – well what do they even register as a note? Say they looked at English at a glance, they could interpret the white space between the letters as the symbols rather than the letters themselves.

The possibilities are near endless for interpretation. This would be fair to say of something that came from our planet, or even our galaxy. But this could be a visitor that we may not even recognise as intelligent life, and yet regardless, it is. So much so that it had travelled through the stars to find us.

Furthermore then, we have an obligation to protect intelligent life as best as we can. To avoid any kind of pain and anguish where we can. If something can intelligent understand the universe and perceive its own consciousness, it must be our responsibility to ensure it.
It is important then to have this discussion – say we are aware of what brought about our destruction. It is our obligation then, to warn these visitors of the dangers we could not avoid. Perhaps areas of contamination, physical or otherwise, should be left in the past and certain technologies either avoided or proceeded with caution. The question being, how do we do this?

How would you communicate to something that may not even perceive the world in the same way that you do? And on a more personal note… Would you? Would you personally make an application to share your thoughts on how best to do this?

Arguably our only efforts to communicate without language thus far, is music. For thousands of years, we have communicated celebration, happiness, fear and war to others through music. No lyrics required to communicate exactly how we feel. Perhaps this would be our best bet to begin. Perhaps the sound of children laughing, the rain forest, or the ocean reaching the shoreline. The times at which we as a species were most at peace.
But then, while this may provide an example of our environment – it doesn’t necessarily define who we were or are. When we were good or bad. When we loved, and when we hated.

If we continue on a scientific trend – would we leave behind a hologram of a child as an ark of information, to provide context to who we were? Would this be the most realistic option, to convey our messages of peace in as many images and as many words as we possibly could? Could this child hold out a hand, with the bumps on his hand spelling in braille, and his words echoed in every other language, and Morse code? Would what the child spoke even resonate on any parallel? Should we literally throw sounds and light in some form of pattern, and hope that something sticks? Data dump our history and languages in as many different patterns as possible? Perhaps an AI, that can use everything that we are currently to determine what COULD be encountered in the future? Statistically, this is probably necessary. As much as they would like to earn us, we may need to learn it first, in the form of some machine learning. To discuss topics not only do we not understand yet, but we may never even have encountered in our cosmically short lifespan.

What if we decided that we wanted to communicate, only that which we wanted to communicate. I.e. perhaps we would wish to leave out the horrid parts of our history, or tell much more embellished versions of it in myth, legend, and art rather than the much more hard to swallow science and objectivity. If we were to do that, how could we separate semantics from pragmatism? To say very clearly what is, and not what we meant to say. This applies to our language, and also our visualisation of our culture. Say we built, or painted, or sculpted a grand cathedral, and hid it in some frozen ark – we may try to convey how complex and grandiose we were in our architectural choice – only to find that our visitor friends interpret the use of space as inefficient. They may regard our distinct lack of compactness instead, as a sign we were not intelligent whatsoever. That we were too wasteful. Perhaps then, they would be right.

The questions are endless, and arguably you could discuss for the millions of years we are hypothetically wiped out discussing what we could and should do – if and when we should – why and where we should. In fact, this question, which its infinite possibilities seems to grand a task to bestow upon us, and too great a burden to endure.

But if something is important enough, you must always try. Even if the expected outcome, is failure.

However; the question remains: Would you? And if so, how? How would you begin to construct a language to speak beyond the stars, without barometer?

Go.

Do You Think We’ll Ever Meet Them?

As you look up at the stars, in the dark of the night, you notice how many there are, and although they seem to go on indefinitely; you begin to count.

And after a while of counting, you will at some point, begin to wonder.

The observable universe is unimaginably gargantuan. The actual universe, is even larger still. Although, as sight fails us, we know only of a larger universe’s existence by the effects that outwith our sight is having upon objects, celestial or otherwise, that we CAN see. i.e. Perhaps a massive object outside of our range of sight, is so large that it’s gravitational pull is affecting objects we can see. But since we can’t physically see an un-observable universe,  for now, for the sake of the following analogy, let’s consider what we CAN see.

It’s estimated, by different sources and reputable scientists, that the number of stars in our observable universe amounts to anywhere between 1 to 100 million… for every grain of sand on Earth.

Think about that.

For just one beach, your favourite beach you’ve ever been to, imagine counting the individual grains, and multiplying it even by the lowest of that scale. You’ll no doubt theoretically devise a number so large you could not write it down in tiny numbers of chalk on any road in the world. Then add every other beach, and every other grain of sand on Earth; and be amazed more, still.

Then consider what stars, in a sense, represent. They represent a section; a little order in the large chaos. For where there are stars, there are clusters of planets. And as such, we can count a little more conveniently. But we’re not looking for convenience now, in fact we are tackling the big.

In our Solar System (The Sol System) there are 8 planets (Sorry, Pluto.) If we assume then, that every other star COULD have that many, of course they could have more and they could have less, but let’s just suppose they could – you could theoretically multiple your number again by anywhere up to 8. By the time you’ve done this, you have ANOTHER inconceivable number. A number that is so large, it actually has nothing we can compare it to.

We cannot compare it to grain, to salt, to blades of grass. To letters written, or perhaps even to thoughts, thought. We are now, astronomical.

But then… consider this. That inconceivable number… is a snapshot, of now. Stars, like we, go through stages of their life. And same as they are born, they age, and die. When they are born, their sheer scale grants them a gravitational field. All mass has gravity, it can just be so small that its force is negligible. However a stars gravitational pull is exquisite, and its existence will force them to inherit planets along the way. These too age and die. When a star dies, it guarantees the death of all other planets which orbit it.

This is because when a star dies, it enters a supernova state. This implodes the star, and at its most dense point, it bursts out again and explodes its heated guts containing gases all across the the solar system, and out into the universe. This crucible of gases, of planets, of minerals, and all of the elements that found and support life, is continually exploding and spreading itself all over the universe, every day, as time goes on.

So this crazy number, that when we last left it was a rough estimate of all the planets in our observable universe, is now only a snapshot. Think of all the planets that have been, since the beginning of time. The number is now not only incomparable, but it’s actually grown meaningless, for we can’t understand it whatsoever.

In keeping with the unimaginable, let’s expand our thoughts to the non-observable universe which could be infinite… and then expand our supposition to more than one universe. In fact… an infinite number of universes. Why would there be more than one universe? – Because the universe does not make anything in sets of one. There can be no action, without reaction.

What is the point of all this? What’s the point in even understanding or dreaming of these numbers. Of how the universe works. The point of all this; is consciousness.

There was no reason for the universe to give birth to life. It could have continued existing just fine without it. And yet, it did. Not only that, but even life itself could have stayed as small as bacteria. But it didn’t. It grew. Which means atoms, which had until that point all been working independently, now decided to work together to form something larger. And why might that be?

I would wager, that the universe was compelled to observe itself. And the way to do that, is consciousness. Perhaps my last statement a paragraph ago was incorrect, perhaps the universe couldn’t have went on fine without us, because without anything to observe it, it wasn’t able to exist anyway.

The universe couldn’t even have written this article, had it not made that decision at that time. Now let’s not even delve into the different question of how it could even make a decision or have a compulsion; let’s leave that for another time.

The most important thing we can take from this, is that the universe desires consciousness. A chaos that can in turn, decide to do things it should not or normally could not, and a chaos that can conceive of things which do not exist, and therefore expand the theoretical universe indefinitely. Perhaps life was just the universe’s attempt to continue growing.

This consciousness as we know it on Earth, consists of the elements of life. These are Carbon, Oxygen, Nitrogen, and Hydrogen. Which are four of the five most common elements in the universe. Which are found in every star in the universe.

If the universe never makes anything in ones, why would it make consciousness in one?

It’s just a case of it could be ANYWHERE in this universe… and at ANYTIME in its existence. Each consciousness has its own perspective. Its own take on the universe, and itself. Its own thoughts, desires, opinions, loves, hates, fears, and dreams. And if these conscious beings can dream, I bet they too, sit down, stare at the stars, and count.

So with that being said, do you think we’ll ever meet them?