At the Stars...

I have always been fascinated with the night sky. There is just something about the unfathomable limitless of space that just overwhelms and humbles me. From nights spent with my sister on the steep apex of our roof (unbeknowst to our parents), talking about our lives and gazing up at the cold, clear winter sky bordered by the bare trees of the woods that surrounded the house. To my first desert night in sands of Judea, playing the guitar to an audience of one and millions. To the top of the hills in Epping Forest, the horizon of stars fading into the glow of London to the south, Coldplay's Yellow playing fittingly on Asher's radio. To morning practices after winter training on the Wabash River, the moonlight reflecting off of the puddles of our first strokes in months. To 46 nights spent three feet above the surface of the Atlantic Ocean and no obstacles blocking the 360 degrees of our own private skyline. To nights of reflecting thoughts in Bequia just 11 days after our capsize, the anchor lights of the ships in harbour matching the twinkling of the stars so perfectly that you could not tell where the bay ended and the sky began. And now, lying back in the grass in North Scottsdale, looking up at those same stars. Faithful friends that remain constant companions through the years: Orion owning the winter sky with Sirius running along behind him, the twins of Gemini and the seven sisters of the Pleiades dancing playfully around Polaris. Life is ever changing, but no matter the changes here on this planet that we call home, they're always there, always to be trusted and counted upon to come up over the horizon. It doesn't matter if that horizon is a bare corn field or a forested hill or a desert landscape with saguaros silhouetted against the moonlight. I haven't had the opportunity yet to have good friends in the southern hemisphere, so that means that where ever I go north of the equator, my family and friends and I can always share the same night sky. It may seem like a small thing, but it is a huge comfort in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. Even though you may be thousands of miles away from those you love, you can't help but feel a little bit closer when looking up at those same stars.

Nothing of great interest happened over the last week, at least not necessarily blog worthy things. Lots of work in the lab, lots of scrambling for additional funds, lots of confirmations with sponsors, a week of long nights staring up at my ceiling and not being able to sleep, only to get back at the computer and finish another task before falling back in bed. The weekend was a welcome respite, although I have to admit I spent the majority of it working both in the lab and on ocean rowing. At least Saturday afternoon and evening were enjoyable... with OSU losing to the Illini (sorry guys, it's a good thing to me), and then spending the rest of the night hopping around Scottsdale, I at least had a little time to relax and unwind. It sometimes gets away from me what I am working towards. Fortunately, both my friends here and those that have graced the night sky for eons help me to reinforce that the simple things are the ones that make us most happy. As I ended the night staring up at the stars, I had an overwhelming sense of peace despite the current craziness of my life. Simple, overwhelming beauty. Life is good.