DAY TWO

When we relocated to our current home full-time earlier this year, having spent the better part of two years living my dream on a barrier island, I set my mind to focus on those things that make this place special. To run toward something feels far better than being pulled away from something else, so I set my feet to running.

It took only a few days to rediscover one of the great joys of living here. The sky. The back of our home faces northwest, an open sky over water which might as well be a painter’s canvas. Endless photos of sunsets crowd my camera roll, each spectacular and somehow completely different than the day before. Inside the house, large windows and oversized sliding doors showcase the sky as one would feature framed art on a gallery wall. Having lived without that wide open view most of my adult life, it still astounds me – demands that I stop, and look, and wonder. We watch the sun move left across our view of the sky toward the winter solstice, retracing its path to the right as summer solstice approaches. So, I ran toward that beautiful early evening experience.

The changing art of the sunset sky has indeed lived up to my recollections and its reputation. What I did not expect, and apparently failed to recognize when we first moved here, was the magic of the stars. I live mere minutes from a Dark Sky area and experience only a little light pollution from a nearby dam. Early into our return, after the last light finally disappeared from the west, we found ourselves lulled into lethargy by a pleasant breeze, resonant background music, and the luxury of time to linger. Quiet conversation about nothing in particular turned minutes into an hour. We happened to look up and out and oh, my. As the sky embraced full darkness under a new moon, the stars emerged to match every trite and cliched description – pinpoints of light in the sky, glittering diamonds, on and on. It turns out these are cliches because they are true.

Not only do these stars populate the night sky when the sun finally sleeps … an entirely separate collection journeys brightly across the sky in the early morning, fading as the rising rays in the east overpower them. To fully experience the magic of the dark sky is to wake early, bringing coffee and a blanket outside to view Orion chasing Taurus the Bull, the dawn keeping us from knowing if he ever caught him. Then again, at night, finding the distinctive Scorpio eluding the arrow of Sagittarius. The brightness of Vega and Sirius, Venus and Jupiter. The smudge of the Pleiades, revealed to be a cluster of many stars by simple binoculars. And then, to realize that all of these stars, their identities created so many years ago, never stop moving. Their circular march is easily observed by morning and evening study…except that as the days and the months change, so do the paths we see. As seasons turn, a whole new group of these celestial markers emerges.

I never fail to watch and wonder how people learned and understood the journey of the stars as a way to pursue their own journeys. To navigate by a system of moving lights from horizon to horizon. It is a stark reminder that maybe, in our modern age, we don’t always know more – we know differently. We have satellites (which criss-cross the sky, flashing the sun’s reflection, at an increasingly common rate) to activate a GPS to tell us where to go. And yet if you put me on landless water, I would be powerless to find my way by the stars the way our ancestors did.

There exist few things on earth that will humble us into an accurate assessment of our power (and they are generally destructive – hurricanes, fires, and such). For me, the stars serve as a beautiful and kind reminder of the vastness of Creation and my very small place in it. This does not diminish me; rather, it frees me to give up a responsibility and control for which I am not designed or equipped.

With the crescent moon already set and the sky free of clouds, the stars shone brightly at 3 o’clock this morning. I awoke too early with thoughts and concerns demanding I address them. A glimpse outside at those very stars quieted my mind. Their timeless presence and sure paths released me back into sleep, as they have for multitudes before me. I will continue to greet them, morning and night, with joy.