we are all made of stars...
i feel as though i should begin this post with some kindof historical view on the heavens, how innumerable ancient societies must have viewed the shimmering lights in the night skies, or how the stars have become wonderous and magical things to look upon, and to divine the future...
but instead, i'll lead with this: in all the time i've been anticipating my return to australia, it didn't occur to me until tonight that i'm looking forward, with the most excitement, to seeing the southern cross...
i spent half the night tonight trying to figure out if the wisps of clouds barely visible in the darkness were, infact, clouds, or if they might have been the northern lights. i sat on my balcony and acknowledged both the bears (ursa major and minor) and orion, while breathing in the crisp calgary autumn air, thinking about the past two times i saw the aurora borealis from the city, and the one perfect time i saw them in astonishing colour and duration through the window of an airplane. then i spent the rest of the night poring over my old journals, trying to find the entry from margaret river when i mentioned walking home from work at the knights inn, my path across the field led by the southern cross and lit by the moon... it was a beautiful, magical time.
the southern cross holds some mysterious and incredible charm for me, and i think it's because it's so bright and obvious in the southern skies and yet most of the people that surround me day-to-day have never laid eyes on it. it is this twinkling picasso, an absolute heavenly masterpiece, that i guess i can't believe people don't flock to see, the way they do the louvre... or that the people that do get to see it every night don't become enchanted by it at every sundown.
i would walk back to the lodge through gloucester park (which, btw, i only discovered was its name about 30 seconds ago), most days and nights, either from the tavern, the shops, the cafes, the post office or from work on walcliffe road at the margaret river resort: the knights inn. it was a fairly sizeable park and i recall days where i would dress with my bathing suit underneath my work clothes, so as to tear them off as i ran through the park so i could jump straight into the pool. at night i would walk without shifting my gaze from the 'cross, and try to remember every divet in the grass so as to not trip and fall...
i couldn't find the entry, but what i DID find was the entry from exmouth, december 18th 1998, when wade, su and i went to the shore at night to catch sight of the sea turtles laying eggs. well, we didn't see any of them but it was a night full of shooting stars, and wishes were made a-plenty...
i can't help but wonder if any of them came true...
driving home from set on my last job, i missed a turn on the stoney reserve and opted to continue on highway 1A all the way back to calgary. just as i crossed the ghost dam, a shooting star brighter than any i'd ever seen fell to the ground just infront of my car. it was so vividly bright and huge that i actually considered pulling over and looking for the smouldering spacerock. instead i made a wish...
but instead, i'll lead with this: in all the time i've been anticipating my return to australia, it didn't occur to me until tonight that i'm looking forward, with the most excitement, to seeing the southern cross...
i spent half the night tonight trying to figure out if the wisps of clouds barely visible in the darkness were, infact, clouds, or if they might have been the northern lights. i sat on my balcony and acknowledged both the bears (ursa major and minor) and orion, while breathing in the crisp calgary autumn air, thinking about the past two times i saw the aurora borealis from the city, and the one perfect time i saw them in astonishing colour and duration through the window of an airplane. then i spent the rest of the night poring over my old journals, trying to find the entry from margaret river when i mentioned walking home from work at the knights inn, my path across the field led by the southern cross and lit by the moon... it was a beautiful, magical time.
the southern cross holds some mysterious and incredible charm for me, and i think it's because it's so bright and obvious in the southern skies and yet most of the people that surround me day-to-day have never laid eyes on it. it is this twinkling picasso, an absolute heavenly masterpiece, that i guess i can't believe people don't flock to see, the way they do the louvre... or that the people that do get to see it every night don't become enchanted by it at every sundown.
i would walk back to the lodge through gloucester park (which, btw, i only discovered was its name about 30 seconds ago), most days and nights, either from the tavern, the shops, the cafes, the post office or from work on walcliffe road at the margaret river resort: the knights inn. it was a fairly sizeable park and i recall days where i would dress with my bathing suit underneath my work clothes, so as to tear them off as i ran through the park so i could jump straight into the pool. at night i would walk without shifting my gaze from the 'cross, and try to remember every divet in the grass so as to not trip and fall...
i couldn't find the entry, but what i DID find was the entry from exmouth, december 18th 1998, when wade, su and i went to the shore at night to catch sight of the sea turtles laying eggs. well, we didn't see any of them but it was a night full of shooting stars, and wishes were made a-plenty...
i can't help but wonder if any of them came true...
driving home from set on my last job, i missed a turn on the stoney reserve and opted to continue on highway 1A all the way back to calgary. just as i crossed the ghost dam, a shooting star brighter than any i'd ever seen fell to the ground just infront of my car. it was so vividly bright and huge that i actually considered pulling over and looking for the smouldering spacerock. instead i made a wish...
posted by walkinvisible at 12:58 AM
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