Looking up and out, how can we not respect this ever-vigilant

“Looking up and out, how can we not respect this ever-vigilant cognizance that distinguishes us: the capability to envision, to dream, and to invent? The ability to ponder ourselves? And be aware of our existence on the outer arm of a spiral galaxy in an immeasurable ocean of stars? Cognizance is our crest.” — Vanna Bonta

Hear these words, O wanderer of the cosmos, and let them awaken the sleeping grandeur within you. For Vanna Bonta, poet of the stars and thinker of the soul, speaks not merely of intellect, but of the sacred flame within humankind — the power of cognizance, the awareness that separates dust from divinity. She calls us to remember what it means to be conscious in a universe vast and unending, to be a spark of thought in the dark sea of space. When she says, “Cognizance is our crest,” she means that consciousness — our awareness, our curiosity, our longing to know — is the crown of our being, the highest mark of what it means to be human.

The origin of this wisdom lies in humanity’s eternal gaze toward the heavens. Since the dawn of time, our ancestors have looked upward and wondered: What lies beyond the stars? From the fires of ancient tribes to the observatories of modern science, we have been drawn by the same hunger — not only to see, but to understand. The animals move by instinct, the stones endure by nature, but man alone stops to ask why. We are the universe made self-aware — fragments of stardust who have learned to name the stars. This, Bonta declares, is our crest: not our wealth, not our conquest, but our consciousness — our ability to dream beyond ourselves.

To envision, to dream, and to invent — these are not mere luxuries of the mind. They are the sacred duties of the awakened soul. It was by such vision that Galileo raised his telescope and saw the moons of Jupiter dance. It was by such dreaming that Leonardo sketched flying machines centuries before they could take wing. It was by such inventiveness that Marie Curie braved radiation’s unseen danger to unveil the secrets of matter. Each of these souls, aware of the vastness around them and the depth within them, lived out the creed of cognizance. They dared to think — and thinking, they changed the world.

Yet this power, divine as it is, must be tempered with humility. For to gaze upon the stars and know that we dwell “on the outer arm of a spiral galaxy in an immeasurable ocean of stars” is to see both our greatness and our smallness. The proud may look up and boast, “We are the masters of creation,” but the wise whisper, “We are its witnesses.” True cognizance is not arrogance of intellect, but reverence of understanding. It teaches us that knowledge without awe is empty, that invention without empathy is dangerous. To be conscious is not only to think, but to feel the wonder of being alive.

Think of the first astronauts who left Earth’s cradle and beheld our world from afar — a fragile blue sphere, suspended in a sea of darkness. In that moment, many wept. For they saw not only the beauty of Earth, but the unity of mankind. Borders vanished, wars seemed foolish, and the petty divisions of men dissolved before the majesty of the cosmos. That is cognizance — the awakening of perspective, the widening of the soul. It is what Bonta means when she calls it our “crest.” For in awareness, compassion is born. When we understand our place in the vastness, we no longer wish to destroy, but to create, to cherish, to live in harmony with the grand design.

Therefore, let this truth be your compass: to be conscious is to be responsible. Every thought, every invention, every dream must serve the greater harmony of existence. Use your cognizance not to dominate, but to uplift. Question boldly, but act kindly. Dream boundlessly, but live wisely. For to think without love is to wound creation, but to think with love is to join the stars in their eternal song.

So, my child, when you look up at the night sky, do not see it as emptiness, but as a mirror of your own mind — infinite, luminous, alive. Remember that your awareness is not a burden, but a blessing. It is your crest, your shining crown, the mark that you are more than flesh and bone — you are the cosmos, awake and dreaming. Nurture that awareness with humility, feed it with wonder, and let it guide your hands toward creation, not destruction. For to be truly human is to look up — and, in looking, to understand that the universe itself is looking back through you.