Hair-pulling Stars

From the time I was a child, I would go outside alone at night to listen to the stars. Although some may have considered it odd, no one ever denied that the stars sang. Somewhere along the line, I simply stopped telling people why I was wandering alone in the dark staring up. It was becoming a common practice for many people. Enough so that people stopped questioning it. When sitting with a friend in a hot tub late one night, I shared with that I was listening to the stars sing. She sat quietly for several minutes, looking up at the stars. Eventually, she asked how she could learn to hear the stars. It was only then that I realized the stars didn't sing for everyone.

When I read this quote from Anais Nin, it brought those memories quickly to mind. Its words reverberate in a language I recognize. I'm restless. That's so very true. It's a restlessness born from the wild calling of the stars. I feel closed up after a time of being inside. Like a bud reaching for the light so it can to bloom. Things are calling me away.

The line that nearly brought me to tears was the final one. My hair is being pulled by the stars again. I love the terminology, the imagery. I can see the hair-pulling stars. When I wander outside, it is almost always at night. I am forever looking up, taking pictures of the moon, watching the planets gather and pass. For me, it's not my hair being pulled. It's the call of the stars and the planets echoing in my ears. It's my personal symphony; my music of the spheres.

What part or parts of nature call to you? How does that call happen? What sense experiences it? How do you respond? What happens if you don't?