On this summer night, the stars shone brightly as I laid against the cool concrete of the observatory, oriented as a telescope would be – pointed toward the heavens. Tonight, I could see Polaris, Arcturus and even its neighbor, Spica. The air was fragrant with the heavy drunken residues of grass, sand and breeze. If only I could stop time and preserve this easiness within me, that which lifts a heart and gifts a high that only the dusk of July can.
“Why do we fear?”
The night’s tranquility is abruptly displaced.
It's slow, lethargic creep across us, suddenly shaken off.
And my teammate’s voice sits atop us, midair.
I turned to look at his silhouette, the cones and rods in my sockets blur in and out as they try to see through him and attempt to comprehend his sudden question. How was I supposed to know? Was this not a question for the ancient Athenian philosophers? I returned focus on the pins of light above.
However, I could not settle back into my previous grounded state. Why is it that we fear and what about that makes us so inherently human? What is happiness, anyway, this vague construed matter we are taught from birth, what was it if we are always searching for it? I only knew for sure that I was not afraid; I was happy because I had come embrace my fault.
Truthfully, the dark had never been a welcoming place for me, in both metaphorical and literal senses. I was deathly scared of the dark. It seemed that in the city that never sleeps, there was not a time I needed to truly worry and face this issue. The ubiquitous, artificial lights of New York City was my hiding place, and they allowed me to evade literal darkness that held danger and uncertainty. Metaphorically, my fear was the black tunnel of insecurity and blindness I felt. I had been lost in for a long time, for I was caught in an unhealthy pursuit to be faultless. I could never show confusion when I didn’t know something. I detested this feeling, but couldn’t, no, didn't understand how to escape from it. I was running from the darkness, my troubles and the byproduct of my Nietzschean adherence to “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” was hurting me. In the beauty of the night, and over the dark, I finally understood that being strong is not synonymous to hiding weaknesses.
At this moment, I was enclosed within the darkness, but I was liberated of fear, uncertainty and insecurity. I had been a telescope looking toward the ground that had forgotten its purpose. Only by looking upward beyond the intangible, frightening night can one study the expansive sky and its wonders of constellations and galaxies. This knowledge gave me power, that I will never be sure about everything in life, but I can still enjoy myself and be confident. For every time when a tear was shed in the darkness, when I was afraid of the world in the absence of light, I remember a time, where in that same darkness, I laughed, shared my deepest thoughts and felt safe and content. Only then did darkness, my unrefuted enemy for as long as I could remember, the embodiment of my fear of error and hopelessness, started to melt away.
They say there is no light without dark and both are equally beautiful. It is the struggle of keeping this mindset in contending with future, that the stars are able to shine so brightly and fiercely.
