themarginalian.org · 8 hours ago
Maria Popova's poem reaches back through deep time to remind us that existence itself is the universe's most improbable wager -- "the battered rock orbiting a star from the discount bin of the universe" that somehow bloomed into hummingbird wings, human eyes, and the orca carrying her dead calf "down the entire edge of the continent, carrying the weight of consciousness." From trilobites to telescopes, from lichen growing slower than continental drift to music and love hovering over everything "gigantic and unnecessary," she traces the staggering unlikelihood of all we are and all we hold dear. The poem asks us to reconsider how we calculate what's possible when we ourselves are proof that the wildest bets are the ones that win.