I wonder what else is out there


Cool grass prickles against my fingertips, in my hair, against my arms and legs. I lay back, my eyes fixed on the inky black expanse above me. Little pinpricks of light decorate the emptiness, stars that are light years away, yet somehow I can still see them.

And there’s so many of them, more than I could ever count. All of those stars, further away than my brain can even comprehend. Even if I could count them all, there are still billions and trillions that I can’t see. Stars in every galaxy, stretching out into the unknown universe.

I wonder what else is out there.

That used to scare me, the unknown of what could be out there. Space and astronomy have never interested me; they’ve just made me worry because I didn’t understand them. And I wouldn’t go so far as to say I understand now, but I am comforted by that wondering. I am comforted by the idea of all that could be out there and by what I know already.

Did you know there are about one hundred billion galaxies in our universe?

I find that fact reassuring because it means there’s so much more than this simple, small planet we live on. It means that even though there are so many things to find wrong with our world, there’s more out there, more to explore.

It puts my problems into perspective, understanding that I am just a speck in this whole universe. And it’s also mindblowing. It’s truly extraordinary what could be out there in a hundred billion other galaxies.

That prospect sends my mind racing, inventing a million possibilities of the undiscovered secrets of billions of galaxies. It means that there are almost certainly other intelligent life forms, possibly other humans just like us.

It means that wormholes could exist. While no one can confirm or deny their existence, scientists believe that they are entirely possible, and, if found, could send people through space and time. And again, I’m completely awestruck by just that possibility. Ideas that I’ve seen in movies and deemed impossible could be the reality for all I know.

There’s so much we know, yet so much we don’t. Our knowledge of the universe has expanded significantly in the last one hundred years. In just 1920, scientists still believed the Milky Way was the whole universe. And now we know that there are at least a hundred billion galaxies, and possibly more. Not only are scientists more aware, but they’re more open to the possibility of new discoveries.

Astronomers admittedly have so much left to discover, and while I don’t see myself joining them in their search for answers, I know I’ll continue to hope for a deeper understanding. How could I not when there is an infinite amount of astronomical knowledge we have yet to uncover?

Our universe and the billions of galaxies within it are alluring, but they also remind me of everything I have left to discover in life itself. As much as I’d love to say I know everything, I’ll be the first to admit I most certainly do not. Nobody does.

Because here we are, we as humans, on this planet. And no one can say for sure why or how we got here, but we’re here now. And that’s pretty cool.

And no one can say for sure why or how we got here, but we’re here now.

I don’t mean to contemplate the meaning of life; in fact, I actively try to avoid that because I know I could never figure it out. But it’s reassuring to be reminded that there’s so much more than I know, so much more to life than this broken planet.

The whole universe is out there waiting to be discovered and explored. We won’t get there in my lifetime, not the next, maybe we’ll never get to all of it. And that’s ok. For now, I’m content to just wonder what else is out there.

My mind is still buzzing with questions, yet somehow calm in the knowledge that it’s ok that I don’t know. I let my eyelids flutter shut. And once I drift off to sleep, under the thousands of stars in the sky, I dream of the possibilities. Infinite possibilities.

And who knows, maybe someday we’ll discover more than we could ever dream of.