海角大神

Trash night had something to show me. I just had to look up.

I聽wouldn鈥檛 have gone outside if it hadn鈥檛 been garbage night. It was dark, and it was cold. I was feeling cranky about the cold. I could have thrown on a jacket, but sometimes it鈥檚 easier and more satisfying to grumble. I was also feeling grouchy about the state of the world, which is not at all following the script I wrote for it.聽

And I was feeling grumpy about the garbage. I always think I should have no garbage. I鈥檝e failed my standards if I fill the can. Most of it is plastic. It鈥檚 hard to avoid. Sometimes, you just want to buy shelf-stable gnocchi in the little plastic bag, and some days it doesn鈥檛 seem like there鈥檚 much one person can do (or can do without) to really make a difference.

I thunked my little plastic garbage sack into the little plastic garbage can and resolved to go back inside where it was warm. Fossil fuels contribute to my comfort, but I try not to think about that.

It鈥檚 exhausting to be of my political bent. I can鈥檛 quit caring, but I could use an intervention. Because if you let yourself, you can feel like you have let down the universe if you鈥檙e not constantly outraged.聽

I huffed a sour cloud into the chilly air, hunched against the cold, and started to grump my way back into the house, when something made me look up. A message. A bright bolt. A giant celestial 鈥淗ey, there!鈥�

Venus! She will have her way with us.

I鈥檓 a city girl. But I鈥檝e seen it before, the stars strewn across the sky like spilled treasure, crazy and loud with light. And if some of them seem to be winking at us, well? Maybe they are. Relax, sweet pea, they say. You鈥檙e never alone. Don鈥檛 be afraid to be meek. We鈥檝e got you.

We don鈥檛 see a lot of stars here. There鈥檚 too much artificial light, and in the summertime too much haze, and in the winter, too many clouds. But the cold, clear air I was hunching against holds much less moisture, and starlight has an easier time punching through. I was riveted and immobilized, suddenly tuned in to the unfathomable beyond. I鈥檓 no astronomer, but I knew I had some serious planets here. Four. Venus. Mars, for聽 sure. How could it actually still gleam red from 250 million miles away? And Jupiter. And another player the internet later told me was Saturn.聽

They were powerful, crisp, assertive. And there were actual stars, too, Orion鈥檚 being the most prominent. We all know Orion, with his belt, his shield, and his sword. We amateurs appreciate the Hunter for being so recognizable, but it鈥檚 just a matter of point of view, as everything is. If we were somewhere else (say, Mars), the very same stars would not resolve into a hunter. Some other demigod, maybe. They would be Orion the Space Wombat, or whatever they have on Mars.聽

Perspective changes everything.聽

I miss stars. But here in the city, I can walk to almost anything I need, and what I can鈥檛 walk to I can bicycle to. The city is a good way for a lot of people to live together efficiently 鈥� it鈥檚 a trade-off, and I鈥檓 fine with it. I do know all the stars I can see are in our own galaxy, and only our nearest neighbors at that. I know our galaxy is rather small as these things go. I know the universe is unimaginably vast.

But what has me rooted here, looking up from my little garbage can at the curb, is a transfusion of beauty into a faltering spirit. I am so very grateful to be reminded of how small I am. I鈥檒l fight the good fight tomorrow. I鈥檒l still monitor my garbage as though I鈥檓 an accountant, but no pocket protector can mute my thumping heart. I鈥檓 not going inside just yet. I鈥檓 plenty warm now.