Friday, October 26, 2007

There are those who talk or write about never having seen the Milky Way until a long-planned trip to Yosemite or some other 'refuge' way-out-west. They wax eloquent about the loss of nature and man's inability to connect with the earth or something else moany and groany, and long wind their words across the page about ordinances against certain kinds of lights or support for a law mandating a certain kind of something that will certainly enable more to better see the wonders of the night sky.
Since the beginning of time (the time that our species has been able to recognize as sliding past), the stars have been blazing in their place; appearing as a procession of pointillist shapes and twinkling lights. They have offered us a stage upon which to cast our dreams and divine our future. They guided our journeys and told us stories too, and as we have lit our homes and spaces progressively more brighlty, they have begun to serve as a rallying point for those with misguided purposes and some sense of what we ought to be.
Why is a person with a high-minded and simple hope to quell lights by law and ordinance misguided? The answer lies in the society that drowns the stars with their own creations and games with little or no regard to that which fostered or nurtures it; the loss of stars and the soil will not be remedied by any less than a restructuring of the entire machine.
We are able to see the Milky Way in SpringTowne most any night there's not too many clouds. While there are many who take that for granted, those who live in places like this have a very different view on life and how it moves and moves us. The sky is a place that I see as a reflection of my hopes and history; when I look at it with clear thoughts, I can hope for eternity.