This year it seems like there have been more exciting astronomical phenomena than we’ve had in a long time. Just off the top of my head, in the Washington, DC area we’ve had the following: a solar eclipse, a couple different meteor showers, multiple opportunities to see the Northern Lights or Aurora Borealis, a Hunter’s Moon that was a Supermoon, and a comet called Tsuchinshan-ATLAS that hasn’t been seen for 80,000 years!

Over the past few months, I’ve been volunteering at Sweet Run State Park during their “Earth & Sky Adventures” programs. There, I’ve had the wonderful opportunity to be in a place with relatively dark skies along with astronomers from the Northern Virginia Astronomy Club. I’ve even been able to see the Milky Way for the first time with my own eyes!

We gather on the hill in darkness and as the astronomers find constellations, galaxies, nebula, and supernovas, we all float around (maybe “orbit” would be a better choice here!) from telescope to telescope. Each one presents a different viewpoint or captures a different aspect of the subject matter. Each astronomer humbly offers their knowledge and passions (and equipment!) so we can all share in the joy of encountering and viewing the beauty of the universe.

I’ve experienced the same thing meeting strangers during the solar eclipse or neighbors out on our local hill, trying to capture the comet, Supermoon, or Aurora Borealis with the naked eye, smartphone cameras, and telescopes. Folks talked to each other, assisted with cell phone camera exposure settings, and shared the sheer delight of watching the skies together.

These evenings have inspired me. They’ve taught me once again the simple gift of gazing up at the night sky with awe, wonder, and a healthy dose of humility.

When I was a kid – maybe even a teen – I remember looking up at the night sky from our yard. I had visited the planetarium in town where a friend’s dad was the director and had been fascinated. At home, we had a little telescope and I know we used it on occasion, but, honestly, I loved nothing more than standing in the yard, taking in the spectacular speckled masterpiece that was the sky. I remember walking our dog, a hound mix, and relishing the way she moved slowly, sniffing everything, because it gave me time to look up.

I remember going snow-tubing at Ski Liberty and laying on the tube in the frosty air, breath forming clouds, looking heavenward and feeling a connection to something so much bigger than myself. Feeling close to God looking at those distant stars.

I remember going to my grandparents’ house with my family when I was 16. Grandpa was experiencing a decline in his health and having a really hard night. I walked around their yard, gazing into the inky dark, praying and singing softly, feeling heard and seen.

I remember staying in a convent in Rwanda, just outside of Akagera National Park, and how incredibly dark it was at night with almost no lights dotting the landscape and interfering. Our little group looked up, speechless at the Southern Cross constellation and the clearest sky I think any of us had ever seen.

I remember walking the Camino Frances with Jeff in 2022, leaving early in the morning to beat the afternoon heat. Before dawn, we’d catch the last of the stars and Jupiter shining brightly in the west, guiding us at we made our way to Santiago de Compostela, or in English, “Saint James of the Field of Stars” (where his body was reportedly found). I loved walking in the stillness of those early mornings, with the stars so clear and bright above us and the crunch of our feet on the gravel below.

Somehow, the night sky in all its expansive beauty has always made me feel safe – wrapped in love and connected to God, creation, the past, present, and future… Now as I gather with others under those skies, I see how we are all connected, making our way through shadow and darkness to find our way to something that feels like home, something that feels like we’re all a part of each other.

Maybe like we’re like bits of carbon and stardust, all floating around, even forming beautiful constellations.

Maybe the stars and skies, used by navigators, astronomers, and wise men (and women!) for centuries, can even help guide us back to each other…

I leave you with the song “Stars” by the band Switchfoot from the early 2000’s:

Maybe I’ve been the problem, maybe I’m the one to blame
But even when I turn it off and blame myself, the outcome feels the same
I’ve been thinkin’ maybe I’ve been partly cloudy, maybe I’m the chance of rain
And maybe I’m overcast, and maybe all my lucks washed down the drain

I’ve been thinking ’bout everyone, everyone
You look so lonely

But when I look at the stars
When I look at the stars
When I look at the stars
I see someone else
When I look at the stars
The stars, I feel like myself

Stars lookin’ at our planet, watching entropy and pain
And maybe start to wonder how the chaos in our lives could pass as sane
I’ve been thinking ’bout the meaning of resistance, of a hope beyond my own
And suddenly the infinite and penitent begin to look like home

I’ve been thinking ’bout everyone, everyone
You look so empty

But when I look at the stars
When I look at the stars
When I look at the stars
I see someone else
When I look at the stars
The stars, I feel like myself, yeah

Stars…
Stars…

Everyone, everyone
We feel so lonely
Everyone, yeah, everyone
We feel so empty

When I look at the stars
When I look at the stars
When I look at the stars
I feel like myself
When I look at the stars
The stars, I see someone

Source: Musixmatch

Songwriters: Jonathan Foreman

Stars lyrics © Reservoir Media Music, Penny Farthing Music, Meadowgreen Music Co., Meadowgreen Music Company, Sugar Pete Songs, Chillin Cholla Music

© Annabelle P. Markey