Sublime Visibility in the Stellar Void

Jackson W. Downs

The haze of the week behind me was finally lifting. The days drudging through office work were over for now, and as I got out of my car, I could feel the freedom in the air that Friday evening. I had taken this trail before. I have pictures from years ago that show me walking it again and again. While it’s a shame I can never perfectly restore that past, I am glad I can still experience something akin to it. But I would be taking a detour this time.

A friend at the office had told me about a beautiful view on the edge of a cliff past the lake. The crystalline water against the mountains in the distance was a familiar, calming suasion, one I all too eagerly stopped enjoy once more. The serene landscape was picturesque, but I knew that no picture could convey the true beauty I now beheld.
Turning away from the lake, the punctum I was searching for came into view. A broken section in the wooden fence by the rocky hillside revealed a steep, winding pathway up through the rocks. Adventure called to me, and the thrill of a new experience in a place I thought I had known so well compelled me to climb up and onward. I reached the top of the hill as the sun began to set over the horizon and gazed over the edge of the cliff before me. The fading day and coming night painted a marvelous contrast between the golden pool behind me and the somber, gloomy river before me. A great sheer rock-face served as the studium to this beautiful duality. From it, the dark clouds of a storm that thankfully passed over floated on towards a horizon I could see but never truly know.
I set up camp there, waiting for night to fall, and dwelling on how clear my mind and my vision felt now that I was here. My mind was free from the stresses of papers I never filed correctly or coworkers leaving me with extra work. At last, my eyes could appreciate the visibility of nature without concern or care for the busy burden of modern life.
The clouds had finally left my sight, and the twinkling sea of stars above invited me to set up my telescope. How could anyone resist such an arresting array of heavenly lights?
Up in the grand celestial court, it seemed as though the Bat Nebula was being as troublesome as ever, harassing the stellar swan Cygnus, spreading its star dust across the heavens, and stealing my attention away from the other constellations in the sky. Perhaps it paraded its brightly shining light to guide its weak-eyed mortal brethren to their innumerable insect quarries. Or maybe it was just looking for Musca, which was hiding away in the southern skies.


To its side in the constellation of Serpens in the Eagle nebula, a great hand hung in the void, ever reaching to some unseen prize. I realized then the magnitude of what I was observing, and I realized something. All the troubles I had experienced in the past week at the office were so small and simple. Compared to the magnitude of space and its wonders, my problems seemed less than miniscule. I considered for a moment how wonderful and horrible this thought was in the face of an ambivalent existence.
I returned to my tent, content with my time marveling at heavenly bodies, cherishing what waking moments I had left listening to cricket sing. Slumber led me to dream on an old photo.
I was less than a year old, and my father had taken me and my aunt on a hiking trip. He had set up his camera to take a timed shot and had rushed to sit by his sister and hold a grumpy younger me, who was not enjoying the sticky summer heat. A timed shot… it seemed strange yet reasonable that the photo could capture the moment but not the seconds said moment held. I may not have known my mother – she didn’t stick around long after I was born - so my aunt was the closest I ever came to learning what a mother could be.
I had attended her funeral not more than a month ago. She passed from complications during a heart surgery. Looking back, she was always stressed out due to her hard job, and my father took her on outings like the one in the photo to try and help her relax. I had lost one of the people who had raised me, and this simple hiking trip snippet was what I had to remember her by. I woke from my slumber, and desperately tried to hold on to the fading picture from my dreams. My dad had lost it in a moving accident a few years ago, and I wanted to hold on to what I could.
I knew my mortal eyes would never see her hardened but nonetheless kind smile after a hard day. I would miss talking with her over the phone every week, swapping stories about coworkers and our bosses. I would miss how she saw such beauty in the wilderness, and the shapes and forms of the heavens and mother nature. It’s what lead me to come back out here again and see the wonders of existence. The simple small reality of this passing moments approaching insubstantiality being like that long lost materialized memory was frightening - yet humbling. I whipped out my phone and started taking pictures. It’s a shame I can never perfectly restore the past of this trip or my aunt… but I am glad I can still experience something akin to it and hold on to these moments through photos.