Stargazer

The night was crisp and as absolutely clear as it could possibly be. We both noticed that. 

There were so many stars. 

He went out to one of the hill towns where there's less human-generated light for a better view of the cold and brilliant sky. It was around midnight and the temperature was below zero. He was dressed in merino wool, insulated hiking boots, wool hat and gloves. 

It was so beautiful that words failed him. You want to laugh and cry at the same time. You want to show someone - embrace them with it. See? See? Feel...

How could he not feel an integral part of the universe, beneath all of those stars, at that holy hour, under those sacred conditions. It's like you're laying down with your head resting on the chest of the universe listening to the rhythm of its heartbeat. It's exactly the same rhythm as your own. It's exactly the same rhythm as everything.

He saw and felt and realized the connectedness. The entire web of the universe visible, tactile, penetrating his feelings. How could he not, out there beneath all those magnificent stars? The magnificence of us - all of us - all creation. Everything, everything. 

The Mystery. All are relatives. 

This was his context when he decided to approach the house. He saw, from outside,  the silver-blue glow of TV light  illuminating the picture window and a man sitting in a recliner watching. He knocked on the door. The man opened it. He looked puzzled. 

It's late, the man must have thought. I don't know you. WTF?

The stargazer produced a large piece of quartz from his small, tidy backpack and gave it to the man in the spirit of friendship. Like you would share something precious with a dear beloved relative. He wanted to facilitate the man's healing and the healing of his family. 

The man called the police. The stargazer tried to explain. The police didn't notice, or pretended not to notice, the stars. They didn't take the time to consider their meaning. To ponder the Mystery. 

The police brought him to the hospital. That they knew how to do. He was acting crazy after all.

Now he's talking to me, choosing his words very carefully. He admits that things became a little awkward and, in retrospect, maybe he should not have knocked on that man's door. He is trying to show reserve, prudence, good judgment. He is trying to project for me a portrait of normalcy. He is trying to avoid an involuntary psychiatric hospitalization.

But in his eyes, I can see an endlessly deep ceiling of stars. On his face, I can see the wonder of one who has glimpsed the Mystery too.