We Are Each of Us Satellites

At this moment, we are, each of us, bombarded by fifty trillion elementary particles. Charging at the speed of light from the center of our planetary system, the source, the brilliant behemoth, our sun. Neutrinos, or muons, infinitesimal space matter, too tiny to detect, assail us as we brush our teeth, walk our dog, and dream in our sleep. Every day, at every moment, we are struck by life, whether we’re conscious of it or not. Stop what you’re doing and simply receive. How are the voices bouncing off the walls around you? Listen to the newspapers crinkling. Hear the wheels rolling on the tile. Laughter breaks out in the room next door. Drink in the details around you, whether as microscopic as the crack in your coffee cup or as ginormous as the gap in your dentist’s teeth. If you’re in your kitchen, what are the different scents that hit you? What’s cracked, tattered, frayed, stained, or soiled? What gleams or shines back at you? What noises do you hear outside or downstairs? How hard are the surfaces? How sticky the tiles? What can you taste from the last meal cooked? Neutrinos pass through each of us, from one body to the next. Follow their path.


Strange Pilgrims by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Vintage, 2006

“The Trail of Your Blood in the Snow”

Even in the pauses of between love they remained, naked and kept the windows open, breathing the air of ships’ garbage wafting in the bay. Its smell of shit, and listening in the silence of the saxophone to the daily sounds from the courtyard, the single note of the frog beneath the banana plants, the drop of water falling on nobody’s grave, the natural movements of life that they had not the opportunity to learn before.

Marquez weaves his details, using all six senses to paint a vivid scene that catches a specific moment in time, and, yet, this moment is timeless. We have a still life that breathes, and sings, and stinks. How Marquez knew to stitch the frog note to a silent saxophone with a ship’s garbage–all of these muons encapsulate a lovers’ interlude. Marquez honed his senses, knowing exactly what would strike. His details sustain life. They pulse.


Inspiration can strike anywhere at any time but you have to be open to receive them. Try, once a day, to stop what you’re doing and simply receive. Walking to the post office, waiting in line at the grocery store, trying to fall asleep late at night, take note of everything you can. We are each satellites catching muons.

Post your details below. What surprised you? What hadn’t you noticed before? Stitch your details into a scene. Explain your process? How do you know which details to leave out? Why did you include certain ones? The salon invites you to the table. Give us your mouns.

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