Constance of the Stars

It's a cool, clear night. I’m sitting under the stars by the water wrapped up in my bathrobe. I was ready for bed, but wanted to take a few deep breaths and ground myself. As soon as I stepped outside, I could see the stars peaking through the trees and I felt called down to the water.

I searched for the Big Dipper, then Cassiopeia, Orion and others. I marvelled at their perfect reflections on the still surface of the water. It felt dizzying and I loved it! If it had been just a little warmer I might have jumped in ... just to know what it felt like to float among the stars.

Then the movement caught my eye. Red, white, blinking and steady.

At first, it’s kind of beautiful. Like fireflies scattered across the sky and mirrored in the lake below.Some planes drifted east, others north, but most seemed to be heading in or out of the GTA. The longer I watched, the more irritated I felt. So I let it bother me for a while.

And then... I noticed the steady hum of the night creatures. Their even songs, as reliable as breath. A coyote called in the distance, and its voice joined the soundscape. My attention softened. My heart settled on the constance of the stars, and the quiet strength of the moon.

Their presence — alongside all that human noise and motion — was deeply reassuring. It reminded me that everything we build, all the noise we make, is temporary. Changeable. But Nature remains steady.

That night, I found deep comfort in the grounding presence of the night's sky.

May you find the same.