There is a moss-covered log I love to visit when hiking one of the higher altitude trails in a nearby national park. It is within 30 feet of the heavily-used trail and the area is open around it, with trees but no underbrush.
Each time I visit the tree, I sit on it, still my mind, and listen. I find myself merging into the energy of the forest.
In the times I’ve paused there, I’ve watched as many, many people walk past. Thru-hikers on the AT, spring breakers, families, solo hikers. Loud, quiet, chatty. Never has anyone seen me…except for one child that was looking everywhere at the beauty. She smiled at me as if she understood exactly what was happening within me. She seemed to understand the forest’s magic, too.
When we become so focused on ‘getting there’ in our life, we totally miss the beauty all around us, the miracles that happen every day. Our destination becomes the holy grail, when the actual grail is found in every step. Every pause. Every detour.
Perhaps the ultimate happiness and joy comes from letting go of the destination and surrendering to the magic of the present. The unfolding of little miracles that happen when we stop and know the power of every breath.
I laid on the porch, gazing into the clear sky, as Orion slowly moved across the sky. In another area of the immenseness of space, my little smart telescope took 10 second exposures for 1 ½ hours of a small section of Ursa Major known as M 81 or Bode’s Galaxy.
The stars seemed to enhance the stillness of the evening as I allowed my mind to wander through constellations and galaxies. All chaos of the external world dropped away and the ‘I’ slowly dissolved into the vastness of the heavens.
I’m finding the night sky my haven, my place of refuge and safety, during these times of social discord and unrest. This quote I came up with sums it up for me:
The image I see on my iPhone–as the telescope works its magic–is below, but what I see when I look into the night sky is pure awe sprinkled with the stardust of Oneness.
If you want to know how the Hubble telescope sees in the M81 galaxy…..
M 81 is 11.6 million light years away and is a 6.9 magnitude spiral galaxy in the constellation Ursa Major. In the center is a black hole 70 million times the mass of the Sun. This image taken by Hubble uses visible light and infrared light. Ultraviolet light from hot, young stars is fluorescing the clouds of hydrogen gas. M 81 is 15 times the mass of the Milky Way, our home galaxy. Thanks to NASA for the information and image.
My images won’t be perfect. I do very little post-processing because I want more moments under the sky and less hours in front of a computer. Some amateur astrophotographers devote hours to stacking, color correcting and come up with lovely images and that’s their bliss. I’m super-grateful there are those who choose to push the boundaries of software and computers to show us even more beauty. I’ll just sit outside as long as I can with a far-away look in my eyes and an open heart to the magnificence of the Universe. That’s my bliss.
Cloudy conditions were present when I went to bed, but my Atmospheric app insisted that by the time the lunar eclipse started, the sky would be clear. With complete trust, I set the alarm on my iPhone for 1.15am.
When said alarm gently awakened me, there was some grumbling perhaps akin to that of a black bear awakening in the spring. But I put on warm clothes and fleece-lined slippers and grabbed the telescope case and heavy tripod I left by the front door. The dogs joined me but only the hound decided to remain a faithful guard against mice rustling in the leaves of the woods or ‘possums ambling around outside the fence. My Buddy dog child returned to his warm bed inside the house.
The app was right. The sky was crystal clear and beautiful. The eclipse was already in process as I set up and fussed with the smart telescope a bit. It can be a bit sassy when I’m trying to hurriedly set up. There are always lessons in patience in astronomy.
Screen shot of what I see with the iPhone app while using the telescope
The Earth’s shadow gradually covered the full Moon and in that space of time, I became more joyful and filled with awe, a side-effect of watching objects in the night sky.
The end result was not only the beautiful, red color generated from the dance of the Moon and Earth. Millions of people came together in time and space to witness this wonder of Nature. In this time of chaos and conflict, that was perhaps a true miracle.
I was sitting under a blanket of stars last night. The milder winter temperature made it pleasant. The waxing crescent moon wasn’t too bright, so I could observe stars, and the moon gave enough light to see the gray shadows of rocks and trees.
Crab Nebula
Since playing with a smart telescope begin in December, I’ve learned the art of stillness. Perhaps it’s more accurate to say I am learning the art of stillness. Taking an image of a far-away galaxy or nebula takes a while. Sometimes hours…but I’ve only done a 31 minute exposure thus far. There’s so much I want to see out there in the Universe so staying on one object for more than half an hour is challenging.
And I don’t want to go back inside the house while the telescope patiently records the stacks of images. Otherwise I could just rent telescope time from some far-away observatory while I sit in my home drinking hot cocoa and eating scones (as if I could afford that….but people do that…the renting telescope time, not eating scones and drinking hot cocoa). I want the experience of stargazing from underneath the sky, not my roof. The images are part of it, but the experience of awe under night skies…that’s my kick.
I always sense trees I connect with while hiking ‘say’…why are humans always in such a hurry…slow down and listen. I pause and stand with them, but rarely sit and ‘listen’ for more than a few minutes.
Last night, I realized I was receiving the same message from the stars. So, I set up shots with the telescope, made sure it was working correctly by viewing it on my phone, and then placed my phone down on the ground under the tripod and watched the stars move ever-so-slowly across the sky.
Orion Nebula
Thirty minutes is a long time to sit and observe an image come into being. I’ll be honest, five minutes is a long time if you are used to being active person. Stargazing is helping me learn to slow down and operate from a different speed.
My assignment is watching the stars move across the sky. Literally. Tracking stars reminds me that even the slowest, almost imperceivable movement is still movement and progress is being made. These experiences help connect me to deep time, that vast expanse of cosmic time, and that helps me move beyond the trappings of the chaos happening now in our world.
My growing edge is to embrace stillness…wherever I find myself. If possible, put my bare feet on the ground and connect directly to Her. Our Mother. Our Home.
With a recent intention to stop and ‘listen’ to trees while hiking, I keep feeling the trees ask me to slow down and stay a while. Every time I do this, the question arises—Why are humans in such a hurry? Whether it’s originating in my consciousness or I’m feeling the tree asking I don’t know, and it doesn’t matter. It’s the same question every time.
The Whirlpool Galaxy or M 51
Star gazing with a telescope, especially photographing the changes happening during a session, has taught me how fast I move and want things to happen. And how the movements of heavenly bodies isn’t something we can rush.
Mars sits below the Moon and slightly to the left
Last night I was watching the Moon occult (pass in front of) Mars. Luckily, I have a high screen-free window that is perfect for moon-gazing, so I set my telescope on its tripod on my dining room table rather than in the snow and 26 degree temperature at 8.30pm last night. I was comfortable and warm, so no excuse to rush this amazing phenomenon.
After finding the Moon and Mars, focusing the telescope, and centering the heavenly bodies, I sat witnessing this event that occurs every 26 months. Last time this happened was December 18th, 2024.
Moon and Mars, with Mars almost directly below the Moon and very close to being occulted
It took 30 minutes from the time I started photographing until Mars disappeared behind the Moon. I used the three viewing distances the telescope offers, reset the focus, and continually recentered the Moon as it moved across the sky. It’s not easy to see it move without a telescope, but with a fixed viewing platform, it moves rather quickly. But quickly is a relative way to describe the movement.
As I write this 10 hours later, the Moon is about to set and is dancing with Venus. That’s a long time, if you stay up and watch it move across the sky, but only one night’s travel out of a year’s waltz of cycles. So how can it feel so long for a 30 minute viewing session of Mars being occulted by the Moon?
I laugh at myself and think of the question that arises every time I stop and listen to trees. Why are humans in such a hurry? Last night I felt that question as a small impatience began to grow within me. So, I took a deep breath and relaxed as the Moon and Mars did their biennial frolic.
Dali’s melting clock painting was a great image to hold as I allowed myself to expand into astronomical time. With no excuse to hurry anything, I sat and allowed the beauty to sink into my bones and the wonder to arise from that deep place within where memories of ancestors sitting and marveling as constellations moved across their dark skies lives.
George Masa, (1885-1933) a photographer who immigrated from Japan, explored and preserved the natural beauty of the Southern Appalachian Mountains. He was fond of saying, “More walk, less talk.” I thought of him this morning as I contemplated star gazing. Maybe my new saying will be, “More gaze, less craze.”
A bit of Mars red tint can been seen in this image as the Moon nears
While the beauty is what draws me to the night sky, heavenly bodies are teaching me to slow down and break free from speeding through life. Why do humans move so fast? Maybe we think we have somewhere else to be…but what if the only place we have to be is here…now.
