Star Gazing

Manijeh Khorshidi

July 23, 2020

It is a summer night in Wisconsin. The clear sky invites my husband to roll out his telescope out of the garage into the driveway. And here he goes to be with those 'gates to heaven' as he calls them until deep into the heart of the night.

This routine of his not only is known to me, rather it is familiar to the neighbors. They are aware of his late romance with the stars. They join him in his search of a star if insomnia visits them at night. This unwritten agreement between them has become the norm in our neighborhood. His love for the stars yielded itself to the yearly neighborhood star party in our driveway. It is eighteen years that we host these star parties. He puts up different telescopes out with the laser pointer reaching the stars. This ritual precedes by a video from the galaxies shown on a screen that we set up on our garage door. At dusk, people start to come with their lawn chairs in hand. Popcorn and juice are part of the night event. They all have a night under the sky absorbed by its charm and magic.

The rest of the time, my husband looks at stars by himself. Under the tabernacle of the universe, he gazes at God's fixtures vibrating his soul. The luminosity of heavenly sky at night casts its glow, shedding its light from distant space and time on every throbbing heart. Oh, the mystery of night with its language of love plants the seed of oneness in receptive souls. Silent nights and dazzling sky have become his companion. It has become a refreshing ritual for my husband’s soul. Rumi comes to mind ‘I dance to a silent tune, I am the symphony of the stars.’

When I married my husband, I knew his love for two things. One was poetry and the other astronomy. He is a published poet now. His second book is in the process of being printed. And as he and I do not share the same last name, I do not think that I am advertising for his book. My point is that he has tremendous respect for language. His love for the words is immense.

At the same time, he loves the beauty and infinity of the night sky. In everything, he sees a spiritual sign. Thus, in my mind, I see coherence between these two passions of his. Poetry and stargazing go hand in hand. One is an expression of his soul through words, the other is witnessing an expression of his Creator through galaxies. Both of them are love stories.

Now, the second hobby is costly in comparison to the first. The fist hobby is about diffusing words on the page. But the second hobby diffuses money. Every week or so, a package arrived that contained either a small eyepiece or another telescope or tripod.

Not being interested in astronomy, he would do his best to pass his contagious love for the visual beauty of infinity to me. With my resistance to change, not wanting to leave the habits of my late nights like watching the Noir movies, I would pass the invitation. Until one night, when everything changed. I had a busy day, and I was tired that night. I could not concentrate on reading, and nothing of interest on TV was going on. My mind was fatigued. My soul was screaming for solitude. I had lived in a material world filled with talks, deals, and human contacts the whole day. Then I heard the gentle invitation of my husband as usual. It was past midnight.

I put on a shawl around my shoulder and ventured out. Then it happened. I gazed at the sky through the telescope to Saturn. The red planet and its ring took me to the valley of astonishment. Why is this thing so beautiful? It was a revelation of awe and amazement. My soul found wings to fly. I am not able to describe the feeling. Maybe it was the transcendence of the soul. The treasured silence, the vastness of the star-filled sky, brought reverence and awe to my heart. The anguish in my heart vanished. Nothing was about me anymore at that moment. The insignificant beheld the most significant. With no selling pressure, no middle man, no management, and no human interference, the immense vastness presented itself to my limited being. My heart suddenly was filled with the joy of limitlessness, of eternity, of being a part of the whole.

Since the first night of intimation with the world of light, I loved to look up and be captured by a power greater than myself. I do not see the expenditure on astronomy a waste of money anymore. This shift of paradigm has expanded my understanding of the power at work in the universe. Life was going well. My husband successfully had converted me to a stargazer. Our late-night rendezvous with the stars whenever the clouds took their leave and dispersed were going strong. I even did not mind seeing half of our large garage filled with telescopes and different cases of eyepieces. I had become a disciple of the night sky.

Then it came one day when I saw my husband is packing. He was not leaving me. He was departing form one of his beloved telescopes. With care and love, he was sending one telescope to my nephew. Another telescope goes to his nephew. A few months later, he was packing a telescope for a buyer somewhere on this planet. Next came an exodus of the eyepieces and tripod. The open space in the garage is a reminder of the days when telescopes had crowded it.

I became immersed in regrets of losing opportunities all those years to be out and watch the universe. Regrets of resistance to change. Regrets of the lost time with my husband on the driveway to look at the most sublime view at night. The most divine and magnificent art of creation. Why did I not go out sooner? Why? Why? My mind was busy finding a justified answer. I had to find one. And I found more than one. Either I was watching TV or arranging and preparing for a gathering at our house. I was busy with doings and neglected my being.

Why are you selling your telescope? I asked my husband. 'There is a season for everything,' he said. What season? What is going on? ‘I am not getting younger,' he continued, 'when I die, I don't want these telescope to be a burden on you.' He held on to the two telescopes. But he spends less and less time outside. I notice these days that his energy is less. He is more inclined to be in his office and attend to his poetry. Our days of life are swiftly passing. Sometimes with no time to look back. But most of the time in deep reflection, we reminisce our earlier days on this first life.

It is way past midnight. I want to say good night to him and remind him of our schedule the next day. But he is nowhere to be found. Is he out with his stars? I put on my robe and follow the trail. I see him in the driveway oblivious of this world looking up through the lens behind his telescope. I get closer, he hears me and invites me to join him in his private star party. In the quiet of the night, we reverently exchange words of the sublimity of creation, and insignificance of ourselves. I know his observation tonight will be an inspiration for his new poem. I say goodnight to him. I look back at him and remember his younger years with black hair and mustache. He is still a handsome man with the same posture of learning and inquisitive mind. He has never aged. He is still gazing at stars.