Giving Notice
- Casey Mc
- Oct 21, 2017
- 3 min read
Look at the stars. Look how they shine for you. -Chris Martin

Life can be complicated, or at least our reactions to the challenges and successes of life can be. I have a thick daily schedule that has virtually no margin for error. I often say that I travel through my days on the edge of a blade, daring the universe to throw a traffic jam, a missed school bus or a wardrobe malfunction into the mix. I have about an 80% success rate with this daring model, which works fairly well because, in theory, this means I am only dealing with about 1 in 5 days each week that I don't appear to have my s*%t together. Interestingly, I am not alone in this complicated model; it is the accepted, almost expected way to live an American life in 2017.
The key to not losing one's mind and spirit with this non-stop itinerary is to notice all of it, especially the good parts. The uncomplicated version of that statement is "gratitude" and there is no easier place to experience gratitude than outdoors. Let me explain what I mean.
Last night was touted as the peak of the Orionid Meteor Shower. I had seen news items over the past weeks and was residually aware that this event was taking place, yet because of that death-defying schedule, I hadn't really let the idea of watching the meteor shower become an item on my calendar. A little background, which I learned just last night: The Orionid Shower is made up of remnants of Halley's Comet. My contemporaries probably just thought the same thing I did when they read 'Halley's Comet': the one from 1986? The one that we were all told we would see only once in our lifetime? Yes. That one. That was 31 years ago, and we were treated to pieces of it, shooting through the sky last night. Pretty cool stuff if you ask me. (Take a look at https://www.space.com/34373-orionid-meteor-shower-guide.html to learn more.)
So I knew I had to make a point of seeing this. To let this be my reaction to an emotionally difficult week. The alarm went off at 1:30 am, the suggested time for best viewing, and I found myself climbing out a deep sleep and a warm bed early on the Saturday morning. Wrapped in a big blanket, laying on my back on the hard wood deck outside my home, looking up at the stars, the quiet was astounding. No wind at all. Everything was so still and so pure that the longer I laid there, eyes adjusting to the night, the more stars appeared in my light-polluted sky. I could find the more obvious constellations right away, the dippers and Ursa Major, but when I let my eyes and my mind connect only with the sights and senses at that exact moment and place, I found at least a dozen more. (I think. I can't be exactly sure because my knowledge of constellations is amateur, at best.) I even saw a few pieces of that comet, shooting around the sky.
The gratitude I felt for those twinkles and falling fragments smoothed away everything that was not positive in my head. It was in this quiet, connected, October hour that I gained back all that my mind and spirit had lost in the stress of the past week. Simple, right? It is all about the noticing.
Comentários