I look up and forget. I forget what stress feels like. I don't remember pain. I watch for hours by the glow of the fire and am amazed. What is it about the stars that fill me with this awe? My whole body goes weak and my heart starts to sing. I feel small. My hurts and issues feel even smaller. That aching pain just goes away and is replaced with wonder. In the light of the day, all of my concerns seem to scrape the skies in height and hug the ends of the earth in width, but here, in this moment, they are exposed as insignificant. They don't matter as much as I had thought.
I wish I had the courage of at least one star. The courage to radiate in intense darkness. The nerve to mock the pitch black sky with that kind of light. To brave the dark. It's an example and not an easy one to follow. There are nights when I feel like a little spark, inspired and daring enough to leave the group flame and shine on my own. I travel far, at least I think so. I get all the way up there, away from everyone else, but then...I get scared. I go dark. I listen to that little voice inside that tells me I can't. I look down and it seems so far away from all the other light. I shouldn't be looking down. Look up. Look up! If it were only that easy, to always be looking up. If I were, then I'd realize I wasn't so alone, there's light up there if I could only keep traveling.
Maybe one day I'll have the courage of at least a single star. I won't be so afraid of this growing darkness and I will shine, explode with electric lights. Tonight I'm just a spark and trust me, I'm aware of it, but there's something about those stars, something about them that tells me there is room to change. The more I look up and the less that I look down, the more I am starting to believe. To believe that I don't always have to be a spark and that maybe, just maybe, courage isn't what I need. Maybe what I need is just a little more faith.
