A recent visit to a dark sky sanctuary magnificently illustrated the challenge many of us recognize in our meditation practice. There we were, my two friends and I, lined up like sardines in our cozy sleeping bags on a blanket spread on the ground under a vast night sky. I live in an old neighborhood shaded by a canopy of huge maple, chestnut, elm, and oak trees. My mountain cabin is nestled under a towering forest of fir, hemlock, and cedar. Lying there under the limitless expanse of the starry heavens was a breathtaking miracle that I had not witnessed in many years.
Then something moving caught my eye. A satellite on its orbital course. I watched its progress … until another satellite diverted my gaze. And then another. Hardly a minute went by without one or multiple satellites tracing crisscrossing paths across the sky. My friends and I commented on how our eyes were immediately drawn away from the wondrous beauty of the unimaginable vastness of the starlit sky by the movement of these much closer to earth, man-made “stars.” Even as we widened our gaze to rest in the sparkling stillness of the heavens, we couldn’t help noticing the orbiting machines. That’s just what eyes do. But we could, with some conscious attention, refrain from attaching our gaze to this or that satellite as it cruised by.
If you engage in any sort of meditation practice, you can recognize the metaphor. Thoughts, like satellites, arise in our field of awareness. Our mind notices and our attention attaches to the thought to see where it’s going. Before we know it, that thought has led to other thoughts. And then we remember what we’re doing. We breathe and release back into the stillness … until that next shiny thought beckons. That’s just what minds do. That’s why we practice. Not so that thoughts will never arise. But so we will not be hooked by them every time they do.
By the second night of stargazing, I was able to soften my vision to rest on the expanse of night sky. Satellites sailed by. I saw them, but did not narrow my focus to watch them. Except, of course, when I did. Ha! It was all good.
Observe the stars, millions of them, twinkling in the night sky, all with a message of unity, part of the very nature of God. ~Sai Baba
Easily distracted; that is our human condition. Focusing on what matters; that is the goal.
Your stargazing experience is a perfect reminder to not let the mundane always win.
Thank.
Your comment reminds me of the quote: “The human condition — lost in thought.” Thanks for commenting, Bob.
My lament: It’s not enough to clutter the earth & so we humans also clutter the sky.
I know what you mean, Mona. I admit I was stunned by the number of satellites crisscrossing the sky.
Sputnik was awe inspiring and the international space station is amazing when it catches the last few seconds of sunlight before it ducks into the shadow of the earth (sorry flat earthers). Now all the clutter in the sky has gotten redundant and the Kessler Syndrome threatens to strand the human race on the surface of the planet not to mention returning us to the days of land lines, folding paper maps and cash transactions at retail counters. It kind of seems that Elon is working against his own best interests. What an amazing age we live in.
Collin, I remember the thrill about Sputnik and the awe of watching that single satellite move through the stars. Definitely did not have the same feeling watching the cluttered sky.
Lovely meditation metaphor, and a relaxing image of stargazing from the wilderness feel. I’m afraid I find it depressing how much ‘space junk’ there is that, we as earth dwellers, have had no say over. It’s the same with all the AI data plants being ‘planted’ in our environments, again without any consultation. We’ve got to hold on to this precious planet, to look after it, instead of taking it for granted before it’s too late. Beautiful image, of a night sky, Galen.
Thanks for your comment, Lynne. We might consider the fate of all species that overpopulate and deplete the resources of their habitats. Just sayin’…. Hope things are going well for you on your side of the pond. Right now I am looking up at your painting on the wall beside the table I use for my computer. Still love it.