I have a very close, intimate relationship with gravity. It sustains me, gets me through the hard times. Sometimes I can feel it on my skin, spooning me, cooing me through the sound and fury; it's absurd for me to feel alone on this Earth (gravity: it is tenacious). But, I'm also aware of gravity's relative indifference toward me; it doesn't feel like we do. Rather, gravity is a machine, fulfilling its various programmed duties, ambivalent to the ways its verbs affect me.
Last night I dreamed I was at the Large Hardon Collider where scientists were conducting their experiments searching for The God Particle. The scientific instruments and gadgets were thrilling with their colors and size. But what was most remarkable about my dream was the discovery the scientists made while I was present: That gravity was alive. The joy on everyone's faces! On a large monitor, magnified perhaps to a googleplex, I could see the active particles that were gravity, alive, moving, and interacting with one another. I looked at my body clinging to the ground, and understood for the first time I was grounded not by a mechanical, unfeeling force, but by the weight of an invisible ocean of life.
How unexpected, I thought. All those times while lying down, feeling my body sink toward the floor, I was in fact being cradled by the brilliant doting of invisible existence. I wondered next if they knew my name.