| The Magic of the Night Sky | | | | comforted by the gentle lapping of the waves I begin |
| | | | to realize how much I miss living in a city with its |
| I love the night sky. There is something comforting, | | | | incessant, invasive brightness. It is as if I am |
| mysterious and hopeful about standing under a canopy | | | | rediscovering an enormous part of a lost spiritual |
| of swirling stars. Each summer I go camping alone in | | | | heritage. |
| Canada’’s beautiful northland to satisfy a | | | | When sleep begins to engulf me and my eyes start to |
| hunger for solitude, wilderness and the night sky. Away | | | | close, I reluctantly move toward my camper not |
| from city lights there is nothing more awe inspiring than | | | | wanting to miss a moment of this celestial display but |
| a star studded sky in the stillness of the wilderness. | | | | realizing that I can’’t resist the call to |
| I usually set up camp beside a lonely northern lake | | | | slumber any longer. In the warmth of my sleeping bag I |
| providing me with a long horizon and an uninterrupted | | | | let the silence and stillness lull me to sleep with the |
| view of the heavens. As darkness approaches I begin | | | | immortal words of Sophocles gently echoing across |
| to sense an overwhelming closeness to the mysteries | | | | the centuries, Mortal I know I am, short lived. Yet |
| of the universe and a strong connection to the source | | | | whenever I stand beneath a multitude of swirling stars I |
| of all that is. I become aware of an alternate rhythm to | | | | no longer tread this earth, but rise to feast with God |
| life - a rhythm which is so easily lost amidst the | | | | and enjoy the food of the immortals. And so to |
| frenetic pace of contemporary existence. Embraced | | | | sleep. |
| by darkness, with stars too numerous to count and | | | | |