A Flash from Auriga

We were up early this morning to view the Aurigid meteor shower. P-dog chased creatures of the night and B-dog curled by my side on the ground as I tried to view as much of the sky as possible all at once.

I couldn't find Auriga in the early morning haze. So I just had to face northeast and hope.

After a while I stopped caring whether we saw anything because it was so pleasant to be up early with the dogs and the quiet and the flowers and grass.

I reflected a bit on my amateur astronomy--years and years of it. All the times I'd done this sort of watching and waiting. And the thought forming in my mind was this: that, ultimately, stargazing is truly about being open to the universe. Really. When I lie on my back and watch and wait at first I'm tense and expectant--I'm willing the meteor shower to appear, urging it along--but it never arrives that way. Pretty much the only time I see anything is when I stop needing it and open my heart to whatever is out there regardless of whether it's what I set my alarm clock to view.

This morning, in that mindset, I saw one brilliant flash.

I moved into a better position so I could see more but nothing ever came--at least not that I could see. (Another thing about stargazing is that brilliant things appear behind your back.)

After a while I decided that we really ought to do this every morning. Just spend a little time being open to the universe in the early morning sky. You never know.