Walking With the Stars

The whole time I was walking around in the open air, I never thought of it as going outside.  Outside implies away from where you should be.  You are supposed to be inside somewhere, and going outside is somewhere else that obviously isn't as preferable because you would be there already if you loved it so much.  Even so, even though I am mostly inside in the winter, I wanted to go outside for a few reasons, the most important of which was this: I wanted to see the stars.  I wanted to see many stars, everywhere I looked in the sky, seemingly separated by blue and black spaces in between, although I have seen them connected.  I was on one of those floats through the dream when they appeared to me for free.  And that's why I never thought of such a place to be as outside those boxes we call our homes.  It just makes sense, when it's possible to experience deeply before me, to see all of the bright sky, swirling stars and mysteriously luminous snow everywhere you go.  Many of the trees in the forests may be leafless (except the evergreens), and the air may be absolutely frigid, but that only makes it more beautiful.  I walked around for at least an hour, mostly in silence, but with the accompaniment of a few songs.  The iPod battery didn't last long in four degrees.   It really puts you into something rare and wondrous to sense exactly how much is out there and therefore in here, that is, your mind right now, going on inside your heart's brain and therefore all around you, existed into being for its #1 elegant excellent purpose: to astound you.