Overprotection

This is my second entry today. Wow, look at me go.

I just wanted to write what I thought about arriving home today. The Beatles were on the radio, and I wanted to hear to the end of the song, so after I parked, I shut down the engine, put my seat back and gazed through the window towards the night sky. I then rolled down the window, and looked at this particularly bright star. It could have been Sirius, I'm not sure. Anyway, once my window was fully rolled down, I realised there was no actual barrier between myself and this star. This struck me as strange, not because there wasn't a barrier, but as it felt different to have no barrier between myself and an interstellar object.

There was a direct line between myself and this star, with nothing in the way apart from an atmosphere of air and perhaps some space debris. Why was that weird?

I think this feeling comes from a modern society's need for encapsulation. I say modern, as this kind of direct line of sight was more and more common as we look back through the ages. Nowadays, it is rare enough to make me think twice. However, barriers, physical barriers, like windows and walls and roofs are so necessary that now I find we feel we are unprotected without them. Society requires security based protection from anything slightly remote, such as a harmless star. The fear of the unknown, the fear of the known yet unfamiliar, it requires the safety of one pane of glass to comfort us, to re-encapsulate and to perhaps place us back within protective arms.

At which point do we feel comfortable enough to stand without any barriers? It is possible, as it has been done by ancestors, but we are so shielded through life that even the lowering of a window to look at stars changes the way we feel.

Anyway, I just came back from a rib joint, but I'll go into that tomorrow. I just wanted to say that.