I went camping along the north shore last weekend to see the stars unobstructed by light pollution or moon. With me was a good friend. We chattered for the entire 5 hour drive. We chattered most of the 2 hour hike we took before sunset. As we were nearing the campground, we saw a grouse and froze to observe. As our attention turned away, the silence became apparent, nothing but the river running a mile away and the odd tweeting of birds unseen. We listened to the nothing, and I found my mind relaxing, slowing, growing calm. When I next spoke it was with a voice more measured and deliberate than I had used in quite a while.
Later, after watching the stars (and satellites) materialize in the sky as the sunlight faded, I sat looking at the vast expanse of mostly nothing. I first felt so fortunate to be a part of this wide world, and my mind turned toward a distant future where there would be people moving among those dots. I then recognized something I had known but never considered, “I’m going to die on this rock.” I will never be one of those stellar, let alone interstellar travelers.
This left me with the hard questions of life I had been staving off for weeks, months, years maybe as I tried to get through life day by day, week by week.
Who do I want to be before I die on this rock?
What do I want to do before I die on this rock?
When will I do them?
Where will I need to go to do them?
How will I put myself in a position to do them?
I won’t tell you how I answered most over the hour I sat pushing my mind for answers while looking to the stars for reassurance that the universe is still out there, but I’ll say two things. There were many things I often do that never crossed my mind, and as to why across my mind there was one answer I could find. I need to do these things.
I went camping along the north shore last weekend to see the stars unobstructed by light pollution or moon. With me was a good friend. We chattered for the entire 5 hour drive. We chattered most of the 2 hour hike we took before sunset. As we were nearing the campground, we saw a grouse and froze to observe. As our attention turned away, the silence became apparent, nothing but the river running a mile away and the odd tweeting of birds unseen. We listened to the nothing, and I found my mind relaxing, slowing, growing calm. When I next spoke it was with a voice more measured and deliberate than I had used in quite a while.
Later, after watching the stars (and satellites) materialize in the sky as the sunlight faded, I sat looking at the vast expanse of mostly nothing. I first felt so fortunate to be a part of this wide world, and my mind turned toward a distant future where there would be people moving among those dots. I then recognized something I had known but never considered, “I’m going to die on this rock.” I will never be one of those stellar, let alone interstellar travelers.
This left me with the hard questions of life I had been staving off for weeks, months, years maybe as I tried to get through life day by day, week by week.
Who do I want to be before I die on this rock?
What do I want to do before I die on this rock?
When will I do them?
Where will I need to go to do them?
How will I put myself in a position to do them?
I won’t tell you how I answered most over the hour I sat pushing my mind for answers while looking to the stars for reassurance that the universe is still out there, but I’ll say two things. There were many things I often do that never crossed my mind, and as to why across my mind there was one answer I could find. I need to do these things.