I Want Everyone To Be Okay. I Want Everyone To Have A Home This Winter. I Want My Transgender Friends

i want everyone to be okay. i want everyone to have a home this winter. i want my transgender friends and everyone else to be able to get the care they need. i want the rainforests to be restored. i want no one’s home to be destroyed in a flood. i want everyone to be able to eat. i want everyone to have someone to hug, if they so please. i want no one to worry about food or shelter or water or harsh pain and oppression ever again. i want everyone to be okay. please. please.

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Love is a wonderful infinite resource because of its access and availability to everyone but I still think its beautiful the relationship gay people have with love. We just have so much gratefulness and appreciation for it and how it thrives in the little things. It’s one of the things that makes me most proud of being queer.

since the jwst is on everyone's minds right now, i want to take a second to remember voyager i, our little interstellar probe that could. it's out past the sun's reach now, traveling away from us at nearly 40,000 mph. and it carries with it the "golden record".

we knew when we sent it that it would eventually leave the solar system, and would someday -- many, many years in the future -- find another star or solar system. eventually. the laws of physics demand it.

and so we put a record of ourselves with it. just in case -- in the highly unlikely, but still possible, event that it happened upon a world with intelligent life that could understand it. our message in a bottle, cast out into the endless sea of space.

we recorded our voices, in many languages. we recorded the sounds of wild animals, of insects, of water rushing. we recorded brainwaves.

ann druyan's brainwaves, in fact. an hour of them, as she thought of all kinds of things.

she and carl sagan worked on this project together, and over the course of their work, they fell in love.

she took the time, during the recordings, to think of him, and how she felt about him.

so that love -- not just earth's existence, or its sounds, or human voices, but love -- would be sent out in our message, cast out into the ocean of space, in the distant hope that someday, somewhere, something would see it and hear us, and know us, and know how we feel.

even if voyager i never finds another life in the universe, even if the golden record is never played, i think it's important that we sent it anyway. what it says about us as a people, our hope and our optimism and our faith and our love -- we cast this all out into the stars.

"dare to cast thy bread upon the sea," indeed.

my heart finds a new way to break everyday