Deserts, Ruins and Starry Skies
We’re in a single file line and we’re ambling tentatively into darkness. We’re all adults, but it’s in these moments especially that we feel like high school students again. At the head of the line is our tour guide Isaac. With a flashlight in hand, his flip flops clack silently through the sandy desert beneath him. We’re all following behind him as the desert grows darker and darker. He’s asked that we all wear sneakers. We’re alongside a street, but it doesn’t appear as though it’s one that cars drive down very often. We cross the deserted road and approach a sandy hill.
The terrain is beginning to grow a little more rocky but sand still mutes each of our footsteps. We make our way over the hill and continue quietly through the desert. There’s a chill to the air now and a soft wind blowing past us. We continue forward without direction. At no spot in particular, Isaac stops. He asks that we gather around him.
“I’m glad we got such a starry night for this. I wasn’t sure that we would,” he says. There’s a strange gravity to the statement. He allows his words to hover there. “A few things to point out,” he continues.
“That over there, is the little dipper.” He points up at a starry sky. None of us reply. “And that’s the big dipper,” he says, now pointing to a different spot. “And that cluster right there — ” he points more vaguely now. “That’s the milky way.”
Few of us have ever seen a night so starry. To ask questions at a moment like this would spoil it. We stand there silently looking upward as another cool wind blows past us.
“Now darlings. Take a moment… and think about where you are. What you’re doing.” his words are both heavy and weightless. They float there forcefully.
“Think about your place in life… in the universe,” Isaac continues delicately. He had warned us beforehand that these moments can be scary for some. But oddly, it’s not often enough that we get trigger warnings in the face of our cosmic insignificance. It’s kind of him to understand how jarring it might be for people to actually see it for themselves — to feel it. To be so humbled can often be unwelcome. The night sky is a force to be reckoned with; it’s not something to be taken lightly.
He offered to let some of us stay back and skip out on this walk, but none of us did. We’re all staring up at the night sky in awe.
“Now find a space, away from everyone else and meditate for a few moments. Be alone with your thoughts,” says Isaac in a voice just above a whisper.
We each walk out on our own now and find a spot. I lie down on the desert floor. I’m not sure if others have chosen to do the same, but I don’t care. Night sky is all that I can see and there’s not a tree in sight to shield me from it. I see a shooting star zoom across the sky; a couple of moments later, another.
Earlier that night, as we sat around a campfire we’d built near our tent, Isaac had brought up the prospect of giving bar/bat mitzvahs to those of us who hadn’t already had one. He mentioned that we would each give a brief speech and talk about something in life that we wanted to take responsibility for going forward and why we’d decided to take this step.
As we sit now under the night sky, it’s a question that I consider. In truth, the idea of a bar mitzvah and being considered a man in the eyes of Judaism isn’t anything that’s particularly important to me. But I’m a sucker for symbolism. And I’m in the holy land staring at an enchanting sky. It’s as good a time as any to get a bar mitzvah, I suppose. I see another shooting star.
I wonder if there’s an unpretentious way of working this into my speech tomorrow. I wonder if I can talk about these grand mysteries we’re staring face first into without sounding pompous. I doubt it’s something I can pull off — oh well. I’ll settle for the understanding that these enigmas have shaped me and will probably continue to. I cherish my relationship with the night sky.
After a few minutes, Isaac asks the group to reconvene. We gingerly make our way back toward him and then begin our short trek back to the camp. If we’d been quiet on the walk out here, we’re even more so on the walk back. We follow Isaac and his flashlight back to the camp. Once there, we proceed to talk and play games around the campfire.
“Darlings. Tomorrow morning, at 4:50, there will be cookies and tea set out somewhere. Good luck finding it. At 5:00 sharp we are loading the bus so that we can set up before sunrise,” Isaac informs us. At this, some of us retreat into the Bedouin tent in an attempt to get at least a few hours sleep. I’ve already grown to accept that sleep during this trip is a futile endeavor. I remain out at the campfire until the last of our group decides to turn in. At this, I decide to make my way back out into the desert.
Help support me by signing up for Medium here! By signing up through this link, you’ll be giving me a direct commission as well as getting access to the work of thousands of other writers. Thank you so much for reading!
P.S. If you’d like to contribute and be a part of the Soul Craft family, our doors are always open! Simply comment down below or on the Submissions Guidelines post. We would love to have you on board!
