Atoms, here on earth and throughout the Universe, bond with each other by sharing the extra electrons they have to fill in the voids other atoms are carrying. If it’s a perfect match of lack of and excess, it is considered a very strong bond: a covalent bond. One element, however, is unique. Helium only has one shell to hold electrons, and that shell comes prefilled to the brim. Helium needs no bonds; no bonds for Helium.
Recently, Helium was caught in the act; shacked up with some unsuspecting Sodium. How? In simple terms, it forms surface level bonds, without actually sharing any of the magic that’s bouncing of its walls.
Every Helium atom is out there, right now, searching desperately to form any sort of bond it can; this is raw, quantum, universal nature.
The Universe is shrinking, or expanding, however you like to see it; and with it, the emotional spheres it contains. So many more avenues, those many more eyeballs eagerly swiping away unwanted electrons. “And the wonder of it all, is that you just don’t realize”[1] how deep this plague can entrench its roots. A never-ending pining for something, anything to spark a darkening life: a wet cigarette, once again.
The cigarette needn’t be wet, and with such ideas there are a million others worth falling in love with; the beautiful dance of balance, between formless giants: matter and anti-matter. The pixie dust in us all finds a miniscule point on which to pop’n’fizzle, a pinch too much and none of this exists; here, we have refined, infinitesimal, Universal nature.
To traverse the endless sights of the body and mind, all the artwork that we gave to ourselves; all of our tributes to the great beyond (a great beyond that has gifted us with the place to be, earth); to run one’s fingers through the air surrounding life, love; don’t ever let that cigarette remain dry. You can’t drool, on another person’s pillow; you can’t slobber down a bottle, for it’s yours to share.
The gargantuan tranquility of the self at peace with what’s within; a gorgeous show put on every day, every night, for you and you alone.
Passion, fire, desire, a movement of purposeful action: matter. Satisfaction, migration followed by relaxation: anti-matter. The chaos of all the reactions that surround us, the desperate, frantic bonds forming at unimaginable scale: entropy.
Yet good ol’ chappie, good ol’ danny boy Helium takes another drink, and saunters on forever galivanting in search of a bond, any bond; whistling a whisper: dear friend, how do I begin to search if I’ve already arrived?
Written on Thursday, August 12, 2021
[1] Wonderful Tonight, Eric Clapton
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