The sun was setting
on yet another hot summer day. Venus, as
usual, was the first “star” to show up as the sky gradually transitioned into
twilight. As the sky gradually darkened,
the other stars came slowly into view.
The moon this night had already been up, looking like a bowl tipped on
its side and it, too, got brighter as the gloom deepened. Fireflies blinked on and off as they danced
on the warm evening breeze that stirred leaves ever so slightly.
Soon, crickets
began chirping a peaceful symphony. Not
to be outdone, tree frogs began their nightly chorus, and in the distance came
the bass tones of bullfrogs. The evening
songs of the birds gradually faded out, as if the birds themselves were getting
sleepy and were being lulled to sleep by the frogs and crickets.
I sat outside on an
old blanket and took this all in. The
breeze, the sounds, the smells of summer teamed up to relax my troubled
mind. I had too many things bouncing
around in my head, too many worries and concerns, way too much stress. I needed a peaceful evening like this to
soothe me.
People who know me,
see me as a “people person,” which is what I’ve learned to become over the
years. But people who really know me,
know that deep down inside I’m a shy person, struggling with myriad
insecurities and preferring to find solitude whenever I can, even if for a
brief moment.
That particular
night, though, I managed to sneak away from my concerns and responsibilities
and to find a soft, quiet piece of ground on the outskirts of town where I
could just be.
Fortunately, before
I left home, I’d remembered to grab a small pillow. Laying back on the blanket, the pillow under
my head, I looked up and watched the sky grow darker and the stars and planets
grow brighter. More stars appeared, and
soon I could see the Milky Way faintly glowing as it streamed across the
heavens and I marveled at its beauty and the thought came to me that those
stars were so far away that my ancestors’ ancestors’ ancestors probably saw
almost exactly what I was seeing thousands of years ago.
At that moment came
the realization I was hoping to find. My
ancient ancestors probably had many of the concerns that troubled me. Most likely not the same concerns, but similar
ones – Was I doing the right things in my life?
What kind of future was before me?
What could I do to make my life and the lives of my loved ones
better? Have my past mistakes doomed me
to a dismal future, or could I learn to overcome my shortfalls and create a
future brighter than I could possibly imagine at this point?
And as I gazed up, I
realized that I’m the product of hundreds, perhaps thousands, of generations of
uncertainty, of glorious victories, of agonizing failures. I was alive and enjoying the cosmic view that
all those before me enjoyed on darkened nights.
I think I should do
this more often, I thought.
“I WILL do this more
often!” I said aloud. And as if to
punctuate my statement, a shooting star zipped across my field of vision.
Wow.
