Each year, tons of meteorites fall on the earth. Many of them fall into the ocean, and most others never reach the surface. Despite their spectacular appearance, they are almost always small objects, traveling at a high rate of speed, and their appearance is very brief. Even the slowest are moving at a rate of 25 miles per second. The force of their oxidation in the atmosphere consumes them quickly and spectacularly, and all that remains is a fine rain of stardust.
Anything larger than a softball has the potential to be as bright as the moon.
The largest of these are meteors made of iron. And within the greatest of these is a solid core of nickel. They may survive long enough to be seen as a fireball, burning apple green as the core ignites. Historically, and rarely in the distant past, some enormous ones have struck the earth, and their effects are still visible today in the landscape.
I have been fortunate to be hailed by meteors many times in my life, occurring at auspicious times related to my life’s events, as an affirmation or a revelation.
In 1975 my brother and sister and I had an extraordinary experience. More than an ordinary sighting or encounter, a meteor came so close it was a visitation. It approached just above the tree tops, following the curvature of the earth. We saw it, heard it, and we smelled it as it burned up right before us.
It was a calling to our life’s work. My brother was a visionary, and his gift of dreaming changed the way we live today.
Thirty years later, while driving to his funeral, I saw another spectacular meteor.
As it streaked across the night sky, my cellphone rang immediately afterward, and my brother’s name appeared in the ID window. I hesitated at first. When I reached to answer the call, I heard a large room, far away, with many voices in it. But there was no one there to reply.
I listened deeply, and then I understood–– Jim had hailed me from the other side, with a shooting star.
…
I felt called to write the poem below for Jim, but I did not know what the piece was about at the time. It became part of a three-part linked poem, recounting our experiences. It wasn’t until later that it occurred to me, from out of the blue, that it was about light;
The Light that comes to us, the Light that abides with us, and the Light we choose to enter.
“Green Apples” about the meteor follows below. The video also includes “Fireflies” from the Amazon, and “Tarantula Wasp” from the Sonoran Desert.
The imagery is a series of digital paintings celebrating Light. The soundtrack, music borrowed from Brian Eno, was intended as a sketch while the video was in progress. But I have never been able to improve on its feeling; a kind of universal sense of place.
Enjoy!
