I stepped outside early on a recent morning, already wondering how I’d manage the unrelenting pace of the next few days, jam-packed with teaching and conferences. Walking out to the car, Orion’s belt clearly gleamed in the dark sky over my barn roof. Attention caught, I looked around and saw a network of stars sparkling in the heavens above me, brilliant pinpoints of light. I spied the Big Dipper, low on the horizon and searched the skies, trying to pick out other, more elusive constellations.
My mind skipped back to a recent event with a volunteer astronomer at our school. He had come one evening to set up a telescope and show us the moon, constellations and other stellar objects (planets and galaxies and globular clusters, oh my!). As darkness slowly crept in, he’d trained his telescope on the moon. He shared how, as a child, he’d loved studying the moon, but now it is the bane of his, and other astronomers’, existence; For when the moon shines, other celestial objects are harder to observe.
A beautiful fall moon on a different evening…
We had gathered in the soccer field and students and parents alike oohed and aahed as they took their turns and saw the moon’s detailed landscape filling the scope of the viewer. Some children ran off shortly afterward, drawn by the lure of the darkened playground, plenty of peers, and no imminent recess-ending whistle. Many remained, enthralled by the flow of facts and stories. Our volunteer pointed out varied lunar landscape features and spoke of mares, craters and canyons or rilles, one stretching approximately the distance from California to New York. Periodically he scanned the skies, looking for other emerging objects. After a bit he crowed, “There’s Venus!” He eagerly readjusted his telescope to capture that planet in its sites. As the evening progressed and the stars emerged, he told stories of Greek Gods and Goddesses, linking Cassiopeia to Andromeda and Perseus, tracing star patterns across the sky with his brilliant green laser pointer.
This morning I looked at those stars brilliantly gleaming above and tried, in vain, to put them together into the patterns our volunteer had shown us. I imagined them like a road map of the heavens and envied his ability to navigate them with ease. The scope of space befuddles me, and I can’t quite wrap my head around light years and galaxies and solar systems. Clearly, I am not the first to feel immeasurably small in the face of such overwhelming vastness. Through the ages, man has valiantly tried to make sense of it all, to impose some sort of order or meaning over it, weaving patterns together into narrative constellations–Ah, the power of story, lighting a navigable path through the night skies.
I may not be able to place myself precisely in this universe, but I’m here. Looking upward one last time as I climbed into my car, humbled by the incomprehensible immensity of that dazzling display overhead, I set off into my own story, determined to write it as well as I can.
Nix the comfort zone 
I am also filled with awe at the beauty and vastness of the universe in th night sky, so I was drawn to your slice immediately. Your piece is beautifully written and skillfully framed. Thank you for the reminder that story is how we make sense of things.
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Thanks, Rose. It’s wonderful to be with someone who can unravel some of those mysteries but it’s also lovely to just revel in the awesomeness of it all.
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I try to make sense of the stars and such above, but mostly without success. I am in envy of those like your volunteer. How great it was for him to share his expertise. I love your concluding paragraph, Molly. It’s powerful, just like the universe.
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Thanks, Amy. One unexpected hazard of this outing is my preoccupation with the stars these days–I’ve got to stop stargazing as I drive to work! Talk about distracted driving!
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What a wonderful experience! My dad taught me to pick out a few constellations. Whenever I see Cassiopeia, I think of him.
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That’s one of the few I know and I was so glad to have our volunteer confirm that I had identified it correctly!
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Your final paragraph really touched me…”I may not be able to place myself precisely in this universe…” Thank you for putting words to a powerfully human experience.
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Thanks! It is humbling, isn’t it?
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Thanks for sharing your experience with the astronomer (what a fabulous opportunity for your school) and your thoughts the next day. I just read tonight that there’s a super duper moon in November. Hope it will be a clear night for viewing. Oh, the power of story to light our way through the night skies, and you’ve shared it so beautifully in this post.
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I’ll keep an eye out for that November moon! Our wonderful astronomer is coming back with a sunscope and we’re also hoping to sneak in a daytime view of the moon through a telescope simultaneously. Such fun!
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The night sky has always fascinated me, and I still love to stand outside and ponder its beauty. Do you know Amos & Boris by William Steig? Your lovely piece reminds me of the scene when Amos, as he gazes at the “starry sky” is “overwhelmed by the beauty and mystery of everything.” Keep writing your story, my friend!
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I’ve seen Amos & Boris, but have never read it. I’ll put it on my ever-growing list 🙂 Thanks for the encouragement, Catherine!
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I’ve been admiring Orion in the early mornings for the past few weeks myself. Loved your story, especially your lovely final paragraph!
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Thanks, Laura!
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