While looking for something in my documents folder, I came across this in an old drafts folder. It looks like it was written in winter about five years ago, and I’m not sure if it was ever published, but even if it was, I like it enough to repost it today.
I stayed up until almost one this morning, reading comic books.
I know, it’s like I’m 12 all over again. And it’s awesome.
Around four, Anne woke me up.
“What’s wrong?” I said, while I was still waiting to clear immigration between Dreamland and Reality.
“Nothing. I just couldn’t sleep, so I got up and went outside to watch the meteor shower. It’s really cool, and I knew you’d want to see it.”
I sat up, pushed the covers to one side, and ignored the grumbling protests of our dog, who had just lost his primary source of warmth and cuddling.
“It’s cold out, though, so put something warm on.”
I grabbed a hoodie and put on my totally-not-lame-but-always-make-me-feel-self-conscious-to-wear-them slippers. I walked through the dark house, past the quiet and strangely comforting hum of my aquarium’s filter, and out onto our patio.
I know it’s cliché, but the stars were brilliant jewels against a field of black velvet. Betelgeuse was a brilliant red. The Orion Nebula was bright and fuzzy. Sirius, in Canis Major, was such a bright blueish-white I couldn’t look directly at it. To the North, Ursa Major dominated the sky, and I could even see Mizar without any effort. Back on Earth, a distant train’s whistle sounded from far away, probably from the train yard near Commerce.
“You just missed a fireball,” Anne said, quietly. She pointed to the Eastern sky and added, “and there have been tons of little flashes from over there, too.”
I wrapped my arms around myself to stay warm and let my eyes roam across the sky. I didn’t see any fireballs, but I saw lots of meteors fly across the sky, greenish and yellowish trails flashing then fading behind them.
Maybe it’s because I wasn’t entirely awake, or maybe it’s because I’d been reading about mutants and other worlds before I went to sleep, but as I looked up into the sky, toward Castor and Pollux, I really felt, for the first time in my entire 38 years on this planet, the overwhelming vastness of the universe.
Where I have always felt awe, I felt small. Where I have always felt inspiration, I felt vulnerable. “I’m on a planet, spinning on its axis, racing around a star, moving faster than my mind can comprehend, through that,” I thought. “And right now, that planet is flying through an ancient asteroid debris, bits of dust and rock smacking into its atmosphere like bugs against a windshield.” I felt a little freaked out.
I’ve quoted Carl Sagan’s Pale Blue Dot so many times, I don’t need to look it up anymore to get it right, but last night, looking up into the enormity of the universe, it was suddenly more than poetry and a reminder to take better care of each other.
I moved closer to Anne and put my arms around her. She leaned her head back against my chest and we looked up into the sky together, watching faint meteors streak across the sky every few seconds.
“I’m glad you woke me up,” I whispered. “Thank you.”
“I’m sorry you didn’t get to see the fireballs,” she said.
“Nah, it’s okay. I didn’t need to.”
The train’s whistle sounded again. This time, it didn’t seem so far away.
We stood there and watched the sky for several minutes, until our hands and feet were numb with the cold, and went back inside.
When I got back into bed, I pulled the covers up over my head, and tucked them around myself as tightly as I could. It took a long while for sleep to reclaim me.
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This was beautiful, Wil.
I could picture it, in all its enormity, full of hope and dread, the starry, starry night above us and surrounding us all. Thanks, Wil.
I think you did post it but thanks for posting it again. Nice.
This feels familiar (strangely familiar) and I’m glad you posted it again. It’s wonderful.
You captured the feelings. The universe is totally mind blowing and awesome and overwhelming. I don’t see so much of that anymore because I live in a city but whenever I get a chance to stare up there at night it always makes me feel small.
Thanks for sharing. 🙂
You would like Thomas Hardy’s Two on a Tower, I think. It’s on Project Gutenberg.
I remember this post. In fact, it made me want to start writing again after a fairly long dry spell. I gave you and Anne a copy of what you inspired me to write in person at Planet Comicon 2014, but thought I’d leave it here, too:
Here’s something to make you feel a little less small:
You know that feeling,
when Anne rested her head against your chest?
That moment, that meaning
is timeless and infinite,
more rare than meteors or even planets.
Like the constellations, it exists
because we join things that are separate,
and create meaning out of dreams.
We are not small,
because we have in us such things
as even the stars might envy.
Awesome words of reflection. Thanks for sharing that moment.
That was really touching. This brought back so many memories of when I used to take my kids (now all grown) out to the mountains and deserts to the east of San Diego. We would stop at 7-11 and get hot chocolate, drive out, put a blanket on the ground and just lie there watching the raining fire.I am always in awe of just how small we are.
Thanks Will!!! That was so so so good and hit a huge chord with me right now. You rock! (and you rock for adding the spinning wheel of death to your site!)
Ah.. what a cool scene of you and your wife watching the meteor shower.:)
Thank you, Wil, for sharing this beautiful celestial pastoral.
Nicely said. Can’t count the number of times I felt the same way. So many times, I’ve used the night sky as a refuge to get a little perspective or to just say hello to Orion (call me crazy but I treat him like an old friend I get to see every winter’s night).
Speaking of fireballs, I remember the one time I saw one. It wasn’t even during a meteor shower. I was in San Diego, at UCSD, standing outside the little shack that was the student theater space. I can’t remember if we were rehearsing or just waiting to start a show but I was outside, getting some fresh air and doing that whole look-at-the-sky-for-perspective thing. And, while I suspect I imagined the sound part, I saw my first fireball of sorts. More of a series of fiery explosions, quick as can be, straight overhead. Just luck that I happened to look in the right place at the right time. I remember being ecstatic but of course I had no audience for it…you know those actor types. 🙂
I think everyone should find some time to go outside at night and stare at those beautiful stars every once in a while. It’s a break from the craziness of life and it puts everything in perspective. Life can be great or it can suck but all those crappy or crazy moments are just a blink in time. There’s always tomorrow.
This reminds me of the summer nights I would spend floating in the pool, staring at the stars.
At first it would be peaceful and beautiful.
Then the sky would get bigger, I would get smaller and floating felt more like being cast adrift.
It always ended with me scrambling out of the pool and into my coziest jammies.
You captured it excellent Wil. Back in 04, hurricane Ivan put our power out in the area for about a week and a half. With no street lights, or any lights from houses, we were introduced to a starry light show every night. All the neighbors and yours truly sat outside every night and just gazed at the beauty, the show was worthy if a planetarium. When the streetlights finally came back on, there was a short cheer but there was also a groan. Man made light blotted out what nature had given us. I’ll never forget it.
Yes, excellent.
Stunning. Glad you dug that up and published!
I know that feeling… here, have a quote from Doctor Who:
Rose: Who are you?
The Doctor: [turns around] Do you know like we were sayin'? About the Earth revolving? [walks towards Rose] It's like when you're a kid. The first time they tell you that the world's turning and you just can't quite believe it 'cause everything looks like it's standin' still. [looks at Rose] I can feel it. [takes Rose's hand] The turn of the Earth. The ground beneath our feet is spinnin' at 1,000 miles an hour and the entire planet is hurtling around the sun at 67,000 miles an hour, and I can feel it. We're fallin' through space, you and me, clinging to the skin of this tiny little world, and if we let go... [drops Rose's hand] That's who I am.
Fantastic post! Your words captured the essence of my own backyard star-gazing (and consequential philosophical contemplations), during the teenage years, that motivated me to a career in astronomy.
That was beautiful. Thank you.
Very Cool