| When did you last look at the sky? I mean really look. When did you last go out into your garden, or any open area and gaze up into the sky. Go and do it now. I mean it, put this down for a second and go somewhere you can look up at the sky for at least one minute. Go on, I can wait. Done it? Good. Now, one of several things might have happened to you. It might have been raining or one of the other wet, uncomfortable weathers. If so, sorry about that. Although there is something refreshing about one’s upturned face being lashed by rain, I doubt it was what you expected or wanted when you started reading this. If it was cloudy you may have been treated to the thundering, roaring majesty of dark, heavy storm clouds, washed with the highly wearable colours of navy and black. This is good, and you should congratulate yourself on a view well viewed. Other possibilities are that it was clear and sunny, in which case your eyes have been indulged with the seemingly endless blue, so vibrant it almost hurts, dotted perhaps with a few picturesque clouds, whiter than white. Feeling the sun warm your skin, breathing becomes more of a pleasure than a chore, and I hope this filled you with the sensation of being glad to be alive. There are numerous other possibilities of what may have happened to you on your trip outside. I shall not speculate on whether or not you bumped into an old school acquaintance and rekindled a friendship, popped into a coffee shop on the way and flirted with the young man behind the counter, or tripped and dropped your keys down a grating, in which case you are reading this five hours later and are filled with a deep, deep hatred for me. Yes, sorry about that, but that is what pockets are for. You may also have viewed your sky at night. Yes, your sky, because for that one minute where you put your life on hold and turn your face up to the stars, you become almost celestial yourself. At least, this is how it feels to me. Cloudy nights are alright, because with the right amount of moonlight the sky takes on an almost marbled quality, so beautiful it makes me want to rub my face in it. Which, I suppose, I sort of do. Pale constellations wink gently through sparse clouds, a veil covering a jewelled velvet, a darkness so rich you could drown in it. Which, I suppose, I sort of do. Yes, cloudy night skies are beautiful in their own way, the greys and the blues and the tiny specs of light merging in a design so perfect it can take your breath away. Now, on to my favourite, which I hope you experienced. A clear night sky. Only once have I seen this away from any pollution by city lights, car headlamps or nearby houses. Once, ten years ago, I was on an adventure holiday with school and we went on a midnight ramble. Over slightly boggy and ramshackle terrain, it was some time before I felt able to tear my gaze away from my path. When I did lift my head, even though I was only eleven, the view I saw has stayed with me. If you live or have lived in the country, you may understand what I mean when I say that the sky has never seemed so low as it did then. Looking up, I almost fell backwards with the sheer expanse and weight of all that hung above me. It was so clear, and I could see so far, I almost became lost in the view. I haven’t seen a sky like it since. Until I moved to Lincoln for university, I had forgotten how much it moved me. Walking home one night with a friend and new glasses, I looked up. Any problems I had disappeared, melted away by the sheer enormity of the view. I felt so small, so insignificant, and yet imbued with endless possibilities. It seemed further away than that time in the countryside, so out of reach that I knew whatever worried me, whatever stupid problems consumed my mind, meant, in the grand scheme of things, nothing. Sometimes it is a good thing to feel like you don’t matter. Whatever you do, whatever decisions you make, the sky will still be there, like it has been for all those years. What you see before you is the past, the future, and the endless possibilities for what you can achieve. The next clear night, look up at the stars. Put your life in perspective. And put your keys in your pocket first. |
Katherine Holt 2009