It was a starry, clear, crisp, thirties-something-Fahrenheit night as I went to bed. Before going inside yesterday evening I raised my face up to the sky, watching for a shooting star – that thing upon which we make wishes.
I recalled other meteors I have seen in my life, perhaps as a way of summoning a shooting star in last night’s sky. Even though I was looking up at the sky, I was not seeing it. I was too busy dreaming of those other nights with shooting stars, a spectacular blue-streaked one that painted the predawn darkness a few months ago, and wondering if I would see a meteor last night.
I kept looking up at the tiny lights in the darkness until something shifted within me: as I dropped my thoughts, hopes for a shooting star, and naming of those few constellations I can recognize, I became aware of actually seeing what was up there. The glance at Orion became a long stare at the stars that make his “belt”. Other stars I could not name, a passing satellite, a low flying airplane …these came and went as my eyes (or heart?) began to adjust to the timelessness of the moment.
What began to emerge as I opened myself to seeing was a profound sense of connection and rootedness; the natural world began to mirror me! While I’d been hoping for a shooting star to grace the night, I realized that the night was already gracious in its bounty.
(Excerpted from a post from Feb 2012.)
