I've Been Thinking About Stars

 All Right Reserved.

I've been thinking about stars and darkness. Maybe because I'm aware that it's winter back home.

During winter where I'm from, the valley floor drops deep. The sky turns clear indigo; then bright-light reflections flurry from the night clouds and smell like snow.  It's funny how you can smell it. See it in the sky. Know it's coming.

I miss winter, though I don't miss the cold or driving in the snow. I miss watching the hypnotising swirl of falling snow against the dark night. I miss getting caught in the moment (as a passenger) in the car, seeing the flakes flit and wave their way towards the windshield, sometimes in mass production, like some kind of Broadway show.

Winters can be so dark, though. So cold. Bones ache. Noses get frozen. Lungs hurt. You have to bundle up, add layers, to stay warm. You have to look for the light.

It's really no surprise that winter/dark are symbols we use for difficult times. Poets use them. Songwriters. The every day person.

It's hard to find that light when we're in our own darkness; but I know that's when we need to look for it the most. We have to find the beauty in the mess, the beauty and the love when we're cold and don't know what's around the corner.

I think these times are when we need to bundle up in the love of those who know us, who remember us for who we are, who see our potential. They can remind us we're strong, even when we don't feel that way.

I think love brings out the stars. This isn't to say we don't stay in the darkness awhile. Sometimes that is necessary, I think. Maybe I'm wrong. In my own experience though, you can't really appreciate the light, the goodness, without the dark. Perhaps they  need each other.

Sometimes others hurt us. Sometimes it's someone we love. That is super sucky. Sometimes we have no control and a disease or death takes over. And that is super sucky, too.

With all this, there's a sense of loss. 

Yet, there are gifts, too.

It might take awhile to find the good, the silver lining. Like poet Jim Bodeen says here "Take a bullet, make a song."

Despite how dark it gets, the stars do come out every night. And as woo-woo as it may sound, I like to believe we've got stardust in us. I think we're meant to shine.

Maybe it comes down to scraping the ice back to reveal the things we're grateful for. Even if it's an icicle, a snow flurry, or a glistening star on the horizon.


p.s. the quotes from dante and mary oliver inspired me after seeing them/being reminded of them on the poet, T's blog here.