Musings -- on the editor's mind

What a wondrous gift – certainly in Ohio, but even more so in a late October western Washington sky – to see a spangling of stars. And whatever their cause, meteorologically and scientifically speaking, what a blessing to see their patterns and these multitudes.

The night sky makes my head swim. So much to consider: Odd words like spangle: It is good to use spangle in more contexts.

And while multitudes bring to mind the Birth story and Jesus in the manager, my mind first traces the dots outlining Greek gods and warriors and the patterns the long-ago storytellers found in the dark night and spun as myths to family and friends – and complete strangers – around the fire.

Those seers and minstrels were the rock stars of their time. With no TV, much less the internet distracting them, they had the village’s attention, from small child to wrinkled elder.

And what did they find in the stars? Bulls and crabs and twins and winged horses. And that was only the start. There was Cepheus the king and Cassiopeia, his queen and the disobedient daughter, Andromeda, flung into the far heavens for whatever punishment. That’s certainly a story first told by a man.

Space, the final frontier? No, it will always be our first mystery and primal blessing, so vast, such a gift to help us know immediately how small and helpless we are. Such a challenge, demanding we look up nightly and wonder, what is out there, what must I learn to reach up there, make use of it, solve the puzzle, figure out the answer?

A multitude of heavenly hosts, indeed.

So many sparkling dots to connect, to contemplate and to reach for.

And consider this, as Thoreau wrote in “Walden:” “Time is but the stream I go a-fishing in…. I ... fish in the sky, whose bottom is pebbly with stars.”

Bringing in the day’s catch was not his goal. Maybe I need to aim higher in choosing mine.