Zadig, or Fate - Chapter 8

"Zadig steer’d his Course by the Stars that shone over his Head. The Constellation of Orion, and the radiant Dog-star directed him towards the Pole of Canope. He reflected with Admiration on those immense Globes of Light, which appear’d to the naked Eye no more than little twinkling Lights; whereas the Earth he was then traversing, which, in Reality, is no more than an imperceptible Point in Nature, seem’d, according to the selfish Idea we generally entertain of it, something very immense, and very magnificent. He then reflected on the whole Race of Mankind, and look’d upon them, as they are in Fact, a Parcel of Insects, or Reptiles, devouring one another on a small Atom of Clay. This just Idea of them greatly alleviated his Misfortunes, recollecting the Nothingness, if we may be allow’d the Expression, of his own Being, and even of Babylon itself. His capacious Soul now soar’d into Infinity, and he contemplated, with the same Freedom, as if she was disencumber’d from her earthly Partner, on the immutable Order of the Universe. But as soon as she cower’d her Wings, and resumed her native Seat, he began to consider that Astarte might possibly have lost her Life for his Sake; upon which, his Thoughts of the Universe vanish’d all at once, and no other Objects appear’d before his distemper’d Eyes, but his Astarte giving up the Ghost, and himself overwhelm’d with a Sea of Troubles: As he gave himself up to this Flux and Reflux of sublime Philosophy and Anxiety of Mind, he was insensibly arriv’d on the Frontiers of Egypt[...]" - Voltaire, from Zadig, or Fate, ch. 8

This is a excerpt from one of my favorite paragraphs I've ever read. More than anything else I've read, this perfectly explains how I experience the world. Living from event to event with that great emotional attachment and the immense gravity of each situation, I often lose that sense of meaning and importance when I step back and see myself in the gaze of the Universe. Infinitesimally small and insignificant in the scheme of everything, and then back into the absorption of these events of my life the seem of such momumental importance. This "Flux and Reflux" as Voltaire puts it, is the perfect description.

On this Christmas Eve, alone in my too large house with a sleeping dog. I'd love to gaze at the stars sprinkled overhead and lose myself in their quiet, non-prescient meaning. But the sky is covered in clouds dumping a wet snow that quietly spatters against the ground. I will have to settle for that meek sound stirring outside to guide me into that transcendent reverie.