Remember when we were kids coming back to a new school year after a long break and the teacher asked us to write about (or talk about) what we did over the summer?
This week I’m sharing a favorite summer memory I call:
Are the Stars Out Tonight?
It was 10:30pm when the oppressive summer heat finally gave way to cool night air that kept the mosquitoes at bay. I plopped down on a zero gravity chair in the middle of our deck, pushed back on the arms, and came face-to-face with a stunning, cloudless sky.
I can’t remember when I’ve seen stars so bright.
My plan was to catch the end of the Perseid meteor shower that started a few days earlier. So I settled into the chair, adjusted the pillow beneath my head, and made myself comfortable.
As I gazed up at the stars, I shifted my eyes this way and that, doing my best to take in the full sky before me. I didn’t want to miss anything.
Ten minutes passed.
I focused more intently, widening my vision so I could see everything possible without having to move my head.
Five more minutes. Nada.
There’s nothing like waiting for a shooting star to remember what attached to results feels like.
Be patient, I told myself (about a hundred and fifty times). Let go of any expectations and enjoy the beauty of the night.
I took a few deep breaths as my mind began to wander. What’s happening out there in the wide-open spaces between the stars, I wondered? Is there anyone looking back at me? Where did life begin anyway?
Come back, I ordered my busy mind, be present for this experience.
But my existential inquiry continued…
How small of a speck am I on this revolving ball of a planet? Why are we here, really? Are the souls of deceased loved ones out there somewhere looking back at us?
Ten more minutes passed and still no sign of a shooting star. Disappointed, I figured I missed the finale, so I thought about going back in the house.
But something told me to stay.
An inner voice urged me to appreciate the solitude, to soak up the silence, and just be with the immense beauty of it all.
So I listened and lingered.
Over the next ten minutes or so, I melted into the Oneness before me. No agenda. No expectation. No need to see anything.
Just me hanging out under the stars.
And that’s when astonishment arrived.
For the next hour I watched in amazement as the meteor shower above my head turned stardust into the most extraordinary entertainment. One meteor after another filled the night sky, some with long streams of light trailing behind.
It was magic – an experience to remember. All because I surrendered to the wise little voice inside.
Later that night, as I crawled into bed feeling wrapped in the love of the Universe, I thought about that voice and how I need to pay more attention to her.
Slow down, she tells me, stay in one place for a while. Stop searching for what’s next all the time.
Give Life a chance to show up for you.
Such sage advice from an unseen friend.
I wonder what might happen if you listened to your wise little voice, too?
Video of the Week
Watch what happens when teenagers – a piano player, a filmmaker, and a drone pilot – come together to create something beautiful. You can watch the video here. Thanks, Ashley!