by request of carl sagan, NASA commanded the voyager 1 spacecraft, having completed its primary mission and now leaving the solar system, to turn its camera around and take this photograph of earth — the pale blue dot, against the vastness of space.

From this distant vantage point, the Earth might not seem of particular interest. But for us, it’s different. Consider again that dot. That’s here, that’s home, that’s us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every “superstar,” every “supreme leader,” every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there – on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.

The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena.

It has been said that astronomy is a humbling and character-building experience. There is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another, and to preserve and cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we’ve ever known.

(carl sagan)

in an instant, the image of the shuttle was replaced with plumes of smoke and falling debris. the classroom went silent.

in those first moments, i don’t think anyone understood what was happening. i kept waiting for the parachutes. they never came.

i remember walking home from the bus stop later that day and looking up at the sky. as a child who wanted to be an astronaut and a teacher, that day changed my life. i followed the aftermath with intense interest — the recovery, the tributes, the funerals, the investigation. i needed to know how, and perhaps more importantly to a child of ten, WHY this happened.

i don’t know that the answers really ever came. lost somewhere in the talk of sub-freezing temperatures, and o-rings and miscommunications were the dreams of a child. i was touched by tragedy that day, and for perhaps the first time in my life, i was truly afraid. and so i wept for the loss of those seven astronauts, and for the lesson plans that would never be carried out in space, and for the youth of our nation, who, like me, would have to grow up with a little less magic in their world.

today, as i have every january 28th, i pause to remember.

oh! i have slipped the surly bonds of earth
and danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
of sun-split clouds, — and done a hundred things
you have not dreamed of—wheeled and soared and swung
high in the sunlit silence. hov’ring there,
i’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung
my eager craft through footless halls of air….

up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
i’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
where never lark nor even eagle flew—
and, while with silent lifting mind i’ve trod
the high untrespassed sanctity of space,
put out my hand, and touched the face of god.

(j.g. magee, jr)

the moon is always jealous of the heat of the day, just as the sun always longs for something dark and deep. (alice hoffman)

there are nights when the wolves are silent
and only the moon howls. (george carlin)

• first, the 21st is the winter solstice — the shortest day and longest night of the year.  i’ve always had a thing for the winter solstice.
• second, the 21st is a full moon – swoon. my love affair with the full moon is legendary.

let’s consider these two events together — the winter solstice and a full moon.  the last time they shared a night was on december 22, 1999.  i remember that night exactly – me and my red civic at snow owl place – talking the night away with someone who was about to break my heart — cold and dark and deep. a night to remember.

but wait, there’s more.

• the 21st is also a total lunar eclipse.  i don’t have words for this.

the last total lunar eclipse occurred on february 20, 2008.  i remember that night exactly – me and my camera — watching the moon slowly dissolve into the earth’s shadow — cold and dark and deep. a night to remember.

the convergence of these three things hasn’t happened since 1638 — almost four centuries ago.   it’s something i’m still trying to wrap my head around.

what i do know, with certainty, is that i will be looking skyward tonight with awe and wonder and gratitude.

i hope you will be, too.

it’s a night to remember.

adam’s complaint

some people,
no matter what you give them,
still want the moon.

the bread,
the salt,
white meat and dark,
still hungry.

the marriage bed
and the cradle,
still empty arms.

you give them land,
their own earth under their feet,
still they take to the roads.

and water: dig them the deepest well,
still it’s not deep enough
to drink the moon from.

(denise levertov)

these waves are cunning.  they sneak up from behind to distract me with a little flotsam and jetsam sparkling on the surf, and then –BAM!– they hit from above or below or sideways. again. and again.

it’s exhausting. and i realize that i’m so busy trying to control these waves that i’m completely distracting myself from the point. my point.

it all works out.

despite all of my crazy efforts and maneuverings, my attempts to maintain balance and order, the endgame remains unchanged.

so, why fight it?  on the count of three, i’m letting go.

of expectations. of insecurities. of entitlements.

(one. two. three.)

be gone. farewell. adieu.

you do not help me on this journey.

i’m going to try my darndest to surrender to the current, to enjoy the ride, and to look beyond the crashing waves, because i realize that even in those crazy moments circling the drain, there is always a story of beauty and truth and peace woven into the firmament, if only i can remember to look up & out.

this is a photograph of planet earth taken in 1990 by voyager 1 from a record distance, showing it against the vastness of space. by request of carl sagan, NASA commanded the voyager 1 spacecraft, having completed its primary mission and now leaving the solar system, to turn its camera around and to take a photograph of earth, the pale blue dot.

From this distant vantage point, the Earth might not seem of particular interest. But for us, it’s different. Consider again that dot. That’s here, that’s home, that’s us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every “superstar,” every “supreme leader,” every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there – on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.

The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena.

It has been said that astronomy is a humbling and character-building experience. There is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another, and to preserve and cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we’ve ever known.

(carl sagan)

in an instant, the image of the shuttle was replaced with plumes of smoke and falling debris.  the classroom went silent.

in those first moments, i don’t think anyone understood what was happening.  i kept waiting for the parachutes.  they never came.

i remember walking home from the bus stop later that day and looking up at the sky.  as a child who wanted to be an astronaut and a teacher, that day changed my life.  i followed the aftermath with intense interest — the recovery, the tributes, the funerals, the investigation.  i needed to know how, and perhaps more importantly to a child of ten, WHY this happened.

i don’t know that the answers really ever came.  lost somewhere in the talk of sub-freezing temperatures, and o-rings and miscommunications were the dreams of a child.  i was touched by tragedy that day, and for perhaps the first time in my life, i was truly afraid.  and so i wept for the loss of those seven astronauts, and for the lesson plans that would never be carried out in space, and for the youth of our nation, who, like me, would have to grow up with a little less magic in their world.

today, as i have every january 28th, i pause to remember.

oh! i have slipped the surly bonds of earth
and danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
of sun-split clouds, — and done a hundred things
you have not dreamed of—wheeled and soared and swung
high in the sunlit silence. hov’ring there,
i’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung
my eager craft through footless halls of air….

up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
i’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
where never lark nor even eagle flew—
and, while with silent lifting mind i’ve trod
the high untrespassed sanctity of space,
put out my hand, and touched the face of god.

(j.g. magee, jr)

i remember, as a child, looking up at the night sky — filled with its fabric of twinkling stars and its grand lighted orb — and knowing, with certainty, that i was looking at something larger than i would ever understand.  it was my first glimpse of the universe, of infinity, and it was exhilarating.

over the years, my interest in astronomy has waxed and waned, but my love of the full moon has always remained constant.  on those nights, i spend a few silent moments outside, looking up and losing myself in the grandeur of the moonlight.  it’s beautiful beyond words.

tomorrow night, the moon will be full for the second time this month — a blue moon.

on the eve of the new year.

there will be magic in the air.

make it count.