A Gift Under the Stars

(Note: This was originally posted on my previous Blog. It is nothing new, but still good.) 

Words are etched in chalk on the parking lot pavement, but I ignore them.  I came to the park to enjoy the autumn weather, but am too lost in thought. The angry, metallic taste of blood is an uninvited reminder of last night, when I sat in bed awake, nervously gnawing at my lower lip.

 Not a soul was to be seen in the park, nor anywhere around. The chilly, noontime breeze, and the abnormal, eerie silence caused me to shiver briefly. Had it not been for the sun shining down though the bare branches, the lifeless hum of the world around me would have brought me into the same trancelike state from years ago, when I would stay awake under the stars of dusk until the morning dawn, fixated on the creation of whatever project captured my attention.

My body yearned to rest. The creative trance would have been a pleasant repose, as last night was broken by numerous attacks of worry and panic in regards to student debt and whether I was wasting my time following my creative passions. The latter thought was quickly vanquished by the unerring resolve that bade my passion for the arts as actual potential. Concerns of debt stuck with me, as my increased heart palpitations could attest to.

Within view, an old wooden park bench became the destination of my walk. The strides to the park bench made it feel farther away than it looked, but upon arrival, the thoughts focused on keeping each foot following the last were redirected towards the serenity found within sight of that spot.

I quickly pulled out pencil and paper after finding the most comfortable position on the park bench. The sight of nature will always calm me, but the arch of lead flowing across a field of white is what keeps me sane. Stroke after stroke revealed more and more of the image hiding within the plane of paper. Stopping only briefly to decide whether to draw what is seen or what I want to see, the study was completed quickly. Even though the meditative state I was hoping to reach eluded me, the result of the exercise was nevertheless pleasing. 

Leaving the park, I took a moment to ponder the words that greeted me deafly upon my arrival:

“I promise I will never forget such a perfect gift under the stars.”

Stars are a powerful symbol. As children, we wish on the first, brightest star we saw each night. Whenever we see a falling star, again we make a wish. Stars mesmerized the ancients, who associated them with the god and heroes. Many people still look at the stars and associate them with their spiritual beliefs.

In truth, stars are just balls of cosmic gas, burning brightly enough to transmit their light thousands upon millions of light-years through the universe, making them visible upon our meek little world. Yet, knowing this, I still believe there is something magical about the stars. It was during the cold winter nights of old, when the fresh snow would compete with the twinkle of the star field, that I would always find myself reaching the pinnacle of my creative potential. Even though the sun blankets the daytime sky, the stars are still up there. We still stand under the billions of twinkling lights that greet us night after night. A promise made under the stars, just like a wish made or a gift given, has a powerful history behind it. Likewise, the record of a gift made under the stars has the capacity to remind me of a potential hidden, yet soon to be fulfilled.