This past new moon, I managed to get myself outside to look at the stars. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky.
It was cold out there, but I found long underwear and warm socks and boots and a comfortable sweater. Stayed plenty warm enough.
I turned off the porch light & walked out into the back yard, as far away from the lights in the windows of the house as possible. The dew on the grass was frosting over. I found a plastic lawn chair and carried it out with me, so that I could rest.
Orange light from the city tinges the sky, to the north. The light from house windows are a bit south of me. There was still plenty to see.
Watching the arms of the galaxy, letting my eyes connect the dots in interesting patterns.
It’s funny – this used to make me feel small.
I still feel small, but it’s a different kind of smallness.
In all of the vastness of the universe, of all of the possible ways to exist and experience this place, of all possible lives, I ended up living this one.
This is the life I have. This is the only life I’m ever going to have. I really ought to make the best of it.
All my friends are feeling low, this week – scattered and worried and tired. Three of them told me about feeling like they didn’t want to be here anymore.
I know how that feels.
and it just – I’ve been noticing recently that for the first time in what feels like a long time, I don’t want to die.
look up, little one… look up and live.
And that’s what I’ve been doing, and that’s how I’ve been.
I saw a couple of shooting stars. I saw the brightness of the planet hanging low in the southwest. I looked out at the sprinkling of lights across the hills, to the east of here, and thought about how each one of those little points of light is a home.
Down the road, a neighbor set off a single firework. I turned around just in time to see it.
And then I heard coyotes crying, and I didn’t feel scared. There’s a warm house with study walls right next to me, so I know that I’ll be okay.
it was time to go, and I went inside and made some tea
and it was a good night.