The polarity of night and day is another false distracting contrast that, when seen close-up, is only the one thing, slightly shifted to create the illusion of difference.
The sun is in the middle of what we see at night, of what we see as night.
The sun is in the middle of that, but we don't see it because we're looking the other way.
At the sky without the glare.
The dark sky and its little pin-points.
So the sun that will allow only itself and the opaque blind it makes of the sky, that burning don't-look-at-it and the blue veil it throws, that sun - that star - sits in the middle of what we call the night.
What we call the night is what is everywhere. Truly everywhere.
But we see it as a change from one to the other.
Day becomes night. Becomes day. No.
All night, all day. All the time.
Not only the sun but all the stars we see throw that light all over our local neighborhood, from Proxima Centauri to the edge of the telescope's survey.
It's all that one thing, light and a medium to hold the light, there's nothing else.
So that our illusion, again, is so pronounced it seems profound.
But it's not profound, it's a misperception. Another lie that no one told us we believe- a sensible man would think the sun was no bigger than the moon, for all its brightness, and sensible men did.
And we all see the dramatic shift from one to the other, night to day to night again, as a change, but there is no change, just our eyes winking with starlight as we fly past, like children on a merry-go-round.
The two things seem part of a whole, the whole made up of day and night.
A reasonable idea, as far as it goes.
But it's wrong.
The sun is in the middle of what we see at night, of what we see as night.
The sun is in the middle of that, but we don't see it because we're looking the other way.
At the sky without the glare.
The dark sky and its little pin-points.
So the sun that will allow only itself and the opaque blind it makes of the sky, that burning don't-look-at-it and the blue veil it throws, that sun - that star - sits in the middle of what we call the night.
What we call the night is what is everywhere. Truly everywhere.
But we see it as a change from one to the other.
Day becomes night. Becomes day. No.
All night, all day. All the time.
Not only the sun but all the stars we see throw that light all over our local neighborhood, from Proxima Centauri to the edge of the telescope's survey.
It's all that one thing, light and a medium to hold the light, there's nothing else.
So that our illusion, again, is so pronounced it seems profound.
But it's not profound, it's a misperception. Another lie that no one told us we believe- a sensible man would think the sun was no bigger than the moon, for all its brightness, and sensible men did.
And we all see the dramatic shift from one to the other, night to day to night again, as a change, but there is no change, just our eyes winking with starlight as we fly past, like children on a merry-go-round.
The two things seem part of a whole, the whole made up of day and night.
A reasonable idea, as far as it goes.
But it's wrong.
