Musings of a Migrant Science Teacher

 
 
I woke up to an email this morning from an inspired friend. He has a way with words, and I thought I'd share what he wrote since I know I've felt exactly this many many times before but have been at a loss to describe it. My most recent "moment" was this past weekend at Seneca Rocks, West Virginia. I haven't seen the sky that black in a long time. I saw three satellites pass overhead and watched the milky way blur on the horizon. My friend was in North Carolina when he wrote the poem below. Where were you the last time you let the sky swallow you whole?
Picture
"I came home tonight, stepped out of my car and walked to the front
door when a strange light caused me to turn around. I didn't see what
it was but it did cause me to look up. For an instant my heart
stopped. The night sky was alive with the light of an endless sea of
tiny jewels flickering their light years of history down towards my
frozen gaze. At first I felt like some fortuitous fool who had
stumbled upon this hidden beauty no one had ever set eyes on before.
Then I laughed to myself thinking about the countless idiots who must
have shared that thought over the ages. I lied down on the warm cement
driveway and marveled for hours as my mind burned with curiosity.
These are the same celestial performers who have been playing out this
wonderful twilight act for an eternity to a constantly changing
audience. Each spectator attempting to divine their own allusions and
prophesy while the truth is the stars bear no interest in any of our
answers, riddles, or interpretations. They just are. Beautiful,
selfless and whatever meaning we need them to be.

A lucky fool am I."

(c) Arnoud Moes 2010
 


Comments

Wed, 07 Jul 2010 15:07:59

That's easy!

My friend Mary and I were at Los Gigantes in Argentina. We had spent the day climbing (well, mostly wandering around, hanging out with the mountain cows, looking for the routes). The hut we were going to stay at was closed, and it had started to rain, so we spent the night sitting on the hut's front step, the only dry spot out of the wind. I watched the sun set behind storm clouds flashing with lightning, but a few times between naps the skies cleared and revealed an unfamiliar Southern Hemisphere sky.

It was late summer and the temperature that night never went below 55F, so we were in no danger of freezing. It was surprisingly calming to be in such a different place, the two of us so alone and yet safe and comfortable enough.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/laurelfan/4481420763/

 

Aleya

Wed, 07 Jul 2010 15:40:55

Laurel that's beautiful!! Really makes the sleeplessness and cold worth it. Stuff like that you never forget.

 



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