Image Credit: Will Mallot on Unsplash
Though my soul is set in darkness, I will rise in perfect light;
I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.
– Sarah Williams, The Old Astronomer to His Pupil

Greetings earthlings existing in this timeline,

I am a wildlife biologist but I have always had a personal interest in astronomy. I have fond memories of my pop letting me stay up late, taking the big telescope out and showing me the planets shining brightly through quiet darkness from an inappreciable distance. When I was in high school, my best friend and I would sit in the hammock on late summer nights and watch for shooting stars, holding optimism for what the dark sky and our future might reveal. I continue to enjoy consuming astronomy content when I can (I listened to a Briefer History of Time by Leonard Mlodinow and Stephen Hawking on one of my drives across Canada).

I find it comforting that we are an infinitesimally small, in an expansive and universe. This feeling of comfort is echoed in the pandemic, of which my experience is an insignificant part. Of course, our world and our lived experiences can feel daunting on their own.

This winter left me alone in dark days. In an emptier apartment than I was used to, with only the company of my two cats, I found myself with what felt like an expansive void to fill. We have all experienced loss of some kind over this half year, and the space surrounding those losses feels vast. I came to realize I was never alone; it was in the darkness that I was able to see those bright spots. I had calls and messages from loved ones daily, I had surprise gifts left at my door, and, most of all, I had myself.


(Photo by Austin Human on Unsplash)
Mostly void, partially stars – Welcome to Nightvale

This summer I have spent many nights stargazing:

  • We just had NEOWISE comet pass through our skies in July. I went out to see it on July 23rd when it was closest to Earth. I spotted the smudge below the big dipper as the moon set and Jupiter shone behind me. If you missed NEOWISE – don’t worry – it will be back around our way in 6,766 years.
  • On my camping trip across NL at the end of July, away from the city lights that fill our everyday lives, I could see the stars so clearly. There are so many stars obscured by that hectic glow. It was easy to pick out my favourite constellations and watch satellites travel past our section of the globe.
  • Every year I am given a birthday gift from the cosmos. The Perseid meteor shower is space debris from the comet Swift-Tuttle. It occurs every August and usually reaches its peak on August 12th. It is a longstanding birthday tradition to go out to watch them. In 2020, it is one of the only shows that wasn’t cancelled. The shower is visible until August 24th, so on the next clear night go out and look straight up and maybe a little to the north/northeast (near the constellation Perseus, for which the shower is named)

When you are stargazing, your eyes take time to adjust. It is frustrating when you think you can’t see anything and you can have doubts during the process. Be patient – before you know it, everything will be so clear.

In David Whyte’s poem Sweet Darkness, he writes:

Sometimes it takes darkness and the sweet
confinement of your aloneness
to learn

anything or anyone
that does not bring you alive

is too small for you.

(Aside: Pop Prokopenko sent me a link to an interview with David Whyte from CBC’s The Sunday Edition. It was a philosophical and poetic discussion of this unprecedented time. If you have 20 minutes, go have a listen, I think you might like it.)

We can take some lessons from stargazing. We need the darkness, the absence of artificial light, and we need to allow ourselves time to adjust. Only then can we appreciate the stars that are there waiting for us, only then can we find those huge magnificent bright and shiny bodies that give us a sense of comfort in the void.

Thank you to the stars and stargazers in my life. I love you.

~Christina