Starry, Starry Night

It is quiet out. There is no wind to rustle the leaves, nor move errant strands of hair. The velvet darkness overhead is alive with stars. Well, no. Not quite. I have always loved watching the stars in their celestial dance, the suns of distant galaxies and nebula swirling in the great sea overhead. Now, however, I can see them not. The reason is both simple and tragic. Lights.

We have so much light pollution in our marvelous technological age that we are cut off from the stars more than our ancestors ever were. In many ways they were lucky. I can remember a time not so long ago - perhaps 25 years - when I could drive for half an hour and see the rim of the galaxy; the backbone of the sky it was called . The stars so thick they formed a continuous band, the constellations dwarfed by the thousands of radiant objects in the bowl of night.

This last Fall a friend of mine had to do his astronomical assignment and took me with him stargazing. It was a sad failure. Despite driving into the depths of Wisconsin for close to 2 hours, the view was worse than my own back yard a few miles from downtown St. Paul. That night my dreams of seeing the galaxy rim were dashed against the rocks of civilization, my mighty ship of dreams going down as tragically as the Titanic.

Something very important to me had gone away for my lifetime, and I knew the keen sense of loss that only the sensitive can know. To be cut off from the cosmos, rendered forever earthbound, is to be mired in a despair so profound that I wish none of you experience it. The ride home was a journey of silence and mourning for me. I arrived home feeling plain, almost depressed at being denied my vista and corresponding perspective of my place in the scheme of things. My benediction, my ascendancy into the heavens had been denied me. All in the name of progress.

It occurs to me that we are denied the comfort of nature by some twisted sense of furtherance of Homo Sapiens level of achievement. They flood the night with light to cut us off from the stars and “heaven.” The parks close at sundown under the guise of safety. But I pay for the parks upkeep, so I should have a say in whether I risk my life by walking after dark. Better I should lose my life than my sense of wonder and comfort.

Compensation is offered by society in giving us planetarium shows (in the daytime no less) and glow in the dark stars to put on one’s ceiling. We take away the natural and label it dangerous, yet we substitute an artificial contrivance and call it perfection. Why is that ? I ask myself the question more lately, curiosity replaced with a growing anger. My inner beast is enraged at this atrocity, this corruption of the beautiful, wondrous, magical place we live.

Wait. I have seen the stars in their fullness. They were dimmer than I remember with just a portion being visible to my eyes. Oh...I was watching Kate Winslet in “Titanic.” Another contrivance from the hand of man. Give me back my stars. I must have the stars. What have I done to deserve amputation of the soul, the obscurement of my dreams and visions ? Tell me why ?

– Philip Leighton