Under the prairie sky of North Dakota, as a child of nine or ten, I recall witnessing hauntingly beautiful and stark contrasts. A seemingly limitless indigo sky, falling incandescently into the horizon, held a fading, yellowish band of light. Above it, a single jewel-like star pronounced its majesty in the bluing.
In my wonderings about this celestial presence, I often lingered outside after dark. Though the surroundings were sparse, frozen, and bleak, I would find myself sitting quietly upon the great snowbanks. Beyond them, between myself and the horizon, stretched our military base airfield and runway.
Beneath the night sky, I would commune with and contemplate that celestial beauty, while from time to time the thunder of B-52 bombers charging down the runway would fill the air, their shadows like giant birds against the diminishing dusk.
Curiously, I don’t recall their thunder disturbing my communion. Perhaps, without knowing it, I was receiving one of my earliest lessons in allowing — the stark contrasts of existence unfolding together, neither requiring the other to disappear.
It is no small thing to take up a communion with a star. My encounter was formative, and something of the child who sat beneath that prairie sky continues to look upward today.
And though it seemed to disappear from view, the communion continued. Across the years and through our travels, I would be delighted by the glittering peek of the star’s return.
And now Venus has returned once again to the morning sky, emerging from her passage through invisibility.
As we approach the New Moon in Scorpio, we enter a season of inquiry into the unseen — those mysterious intervals when life continues to unfold beyond our sight. What might we discover when we allow ourselves to dwell, even briefly, in the not-knowing?
The unseen can be an unsettling place, a vast sea of possibilities without the familiar landmarks by which we navigate our lives.
There we are, each in some way a center of being, wondering what may emerge, what may come to pass, and whether our carefully assembled intentions will have any say in the matter.
But what if the center of our spiraling lives is not an emptiness to be filled, but a fullness yet to reveal itself?
What might be quietly gathering within you, even now, without your tending or knowing?
There is the life we imagine and assemble — the composite of dreams, schemes, plans, and strategies — and then there is the lived life, unfolding often upon another track altogether.
Allowing is no small undertaking for the ego, so accustomed to its authorship. Yet beneath this darkened Moon, perhaps we might loosen our grip upon the story of how things ought to unfold.
Not to abandon our intentions, but to make room for what we could not have imagined.
For life, too, has its own designs.
And soon enough, jovial Sagittarius will come bounding over the horizon, bearing sparks of laughter, wandering feet, and a little fire for the long nights ahead. But for now, beneath Scorpio’s darkened Moon, perhaps we can simply allow ourselves the mystery of what is not yet visible.