A very long time ago, my therapist—I’ll call her H— invited me to watch a meteor shower with her. I didn’t want to. Since I was an obsessive worrier, why she invited me to watch the sky falling was beyond me. But I was very connected to this woman, so I agreed. I would be brave.
We hunted for a place as far away from direct and ambient light as possible—No easy feat in the 20th century. Luckily, we found a small, empty field. I’d never been anywhere in the outdoors that was so bereft of light. It was difficult to see well enough to set up our chairs. Luckily, H brought a flashlight.
At first, nothing happened. We sat in the dark, talking in whispers for no reason at all. And then, there it was. I was mesmerized. The sky wasn’t falling. It was dancing. A sparkling cloud of dust, the remnants of a comet, danced above me and, at the same time, encompassed me. In those moments, I felt the vastness of the universe and the gift of light those small particles offered. I also realized two things:
Compared to the vastness of space, most of my worries were not so big.
Even in consuming darkness, there are shards of light. But you have to let yourself see them.
Although we never talked about it, I’m pretty sure that was what H had planned all along.
The Perseid meteor shower is scheduled to peak on August 12-13 this year. If you’ve never had the experience, I strongly suggest it. You might have to do a little work to find a dark enough spot, but even if you don’t have epiphanies like I did, the shower of light is worth it. You can find out more about it here. Enjoy.
