Looking at the stars makes me feel connected, not insignificant

I hadn’t planned to do any stargazing tonight.

But I was enjoying a conversation with the woman who was with me and I wasn’t quite ready for it to end. As I was taking her back to her car, I took a slight detour to a hill which is my favorite spot from which to watch sunsets.

It was past 10 p.m., so the sky was mostly dark except for the faint glow of city lights to the west of us. The stars seemed to stretch forever. The view was beautiful. Almost inevitably, our conversation turned to the thoughts which such a view inspires.

She said that when she looks at the stars, she feels small and insignificant.

I’ve heard many people express some version of that idea over the years. It’s turned up in books, movies and conversations. People look at the vastness of the universe and conclude that they are tiny, temporary creatures occupying an insignificant corner of existence.

I understand what they mean. I just don’t feel that.

In fact, I’ve never felt it.

When I look at the stars, I don’t feel large or important. I don’t imagine that the universe revolves around me. I don’t think human beings occupy some privileged position at the center of creation.

But I don’t feel insignificant, either.

What I feel is something closer to belonging.

I feel as though I am exactly what I am supposed to be: a small part of something unimaginably large. The distinction may seem subtle, but it matters.

Many people appear to approach the universe as though they are standing apart from it, comparing themselves against it.

The universe is vast. I am small. Therefore, I am insignificant.

The logic seems straightforward, but it’s always struck me as strange. Why should physical size determine significance?

A mountain is larger than a human being. An ocean is larger than a mountain. A galaxy is larger than an ocean. Yet I doubt many of us would argue that a galaxy is more meaningful than a human life simply because it occupies more space.

When we conclude that vastness makes us insignificant, we may be unconsciously assuming that bigger things matter more than smaller things. That’s just not true.

When I look at the stars, I don’t feel as though I’m competing with them. I don’t feel the need to compare myself against the universe and determine where I rank in the cosmic hierarchy.

The stars and I are not rivals.

We’re part of the same reality.

Made by the same creator.

I don’t experience the night sky as a reminder that I am less important than I thought. I experience it as a reminder that I am part of something much larger than myself.

A cell doesn’t become insignificant because the body contains trillions of other cells. It has a role to play within something larger. Its value isn’t determined by its size.

Perhaps human beings are something like that.

What if significance comes from simply being who and what we are?

What if our task is not to become the most important thing in the universe, but to occupy our proper place within it? What if it’s our job to understand how we fit into something much larger — in a specific place and specific time that we were created to fill?

The older I get, the more firmly I believe that’s true.

There is a certain peace that comes from accepting reality rather than demanding that reality flatter us. The universe does not exist to reassure me that I am special. It doesn’t owe me recognition. It doesn’t owe me importance.

I am one person among billions living on a small planet orbiting an ordinary star in a galaxy that contains hundreds of billions of stars.

That doesn’t offend me. That doesn’t make me feel small.

Why should it?

Objective reality has made me exactly what I am.

Nothing more.

Nothing less.

The remarkable thing is not that I am small. The remarkable thing is that I exist at all. The remarkable thing is that I am capable of looking upward and recognizing beauty.

The most remarkable thing is that my creator gave me the consciousness to wonder about my place in the universe — and to ponder my relationship with that creator.

That seems miraculous to me.

Perhaps that is why I’ve never felt insignificant beneath the stars.

I feel joy in experiencing the majesty of creation. I feel awed by the cosmos and the vast distances between me and those perfect little specks of light — which are actually not so little.

I feel grateful for the opportunity to witness the moon and stars and all of the vastness of space. But most of all, I feel connected to them.

Because we share the same creator. Because we each have our small part to play in a beautiful creation.

The night sky doesn’t make me feel that that I don’t belong.

It reminds me that I do.