Plotting the Path of Expansion

Navigating the New Night Sky

Astrologers and sailors have used the night sky for guidance for thousands of years. These days, modern satellite systems have rendered the stars obsolete for marine navigation, and astrology software allows anyone to calculate their birth chart and interpret transits and progressions with just the click of a button. However, technology and the appreciation of the night sky are not always aligned. Light pollution has dimmed the majesty of the night sky to varying degrees depending on location. Even in rural areas, some stargazers now contend with sky glow, glare, and light trespass.

I was lucky as a kid. I grew up in rural Midwest America, so I saw a lot of stars. I’m still lucky as an adult. I currently live on the Big Island of Hawaii. Hawaii is unique because through a combination of legislation and community efforts, light pollution and its negative effects on the night sky are minimized. That means that every night when I go outside and the sky is clear, I see thousands of stars. Those stars feel like an affirmation that technology can never truly diminish the night sky’s beauty and meaning.

As I look up at the sky each night, I can’t help but think about the universe and my place in it. Star gazing is not a new pastime for me. All those years in Wisconsin, I would look up at the night sky when I had thinking to do or I needed to orient myself. Finding the North Star was always a way for me to feel centered and grounded. I remember being first introduced to the North Star and the Big Dipper by the lake shore as my parents went smelt fishing. As they waded out into the water, I would sit by the campfire and look up at the stars. I don’t remember who first taught me to look for the Ursa Major and Minor, but I remember the first time I found them both on my own and how proud I was that I could differentiate the bright North Star from all the others.

Later, as a teen, I spent many nights lying on a blanket in our big open farmyard looking up toward the hill where I planned to one day build my own house. It was directly to the North, so the dipper was always there, pointing toward Polaris. All I had to do was follow a line from the lip of the Big Dipper straight up to the tip of the Little Dipper’s handle, and I knew I was home.

When I got older and finally did live in my own house, my deck faced north, and in the long summer evenings, I’d sit in the patio chair and trace those old familiar forms in the sky, showing my own children how to find home. The common thread in all those memories is that, regardless of whether I was 4 or 40, it was always easy to pick out the star that hung the whole sky. That celestial landscape was familiar and comfortable and a part of what I called home, and I never gave it more thought than that.

Around the start of COVID, my life took a major turn. Maybe it was upheaval in my horoscope, maybe it was a mid-life crisis, maybe it was just part of the natural cycle of life, but a tidal wave of change uprooted me from the Midwest and cast me adrift in a sea of confusion. I unexpectedly washed up in Hawaii and instantly recognized I had found a new home. Many things changed as a result of the move from Wisconsin to Hawaii, but one thing I never expected to change was the sky.

Hawaii is near the equator but still in the Northern hemisphere, and Polaris is visible in the night sky, but I’ve rarely searched for it since I’ve moved here. Now, it’s usually the Western sky that draws my gaze each night. Sometimes it’s the setting sun I’m gazing at, other times it’s the mountain, but most of the time, I’m simply gazing up at the Western sky as the stars sing their siren song, calling me to embark on new adventures. On some level, I’ve been noticing this for a while, but I hadn’t given it any real thought until today. After 4 years in Hawaii, I’ve finally realized that it’s not the sky’s orientation that has changed. It’s mine. I’m no longer looking for home. I’m looking for my next adventure. As this realization hit me, the truth of it filled me with a sense of excitement and awe.

Before coming to Hawaii, I would not have described myself as an explorer. I was always shy, the tall, heavy girl who tried hard not to be noticed, the team member who wanted to be helpful but didn’t need credit. I felt self-conscious about my surroundings and my talents, and I tried to take up as little space as possible, regardless of what environment I was in. The quiet, shy ones are not generally the explorers. You can’t go on an adventure if you’re unwilling to be the main character in your own story. I’m not sure what changed. Maybe I just got to the part of my story where the timid, quiet, wallflower throws off her cloak of invisibility and decides she’s going to dance under new stars. So, when I had a chance, I chose joy. I stopped thinking about staying home. Instead, I consciously decided to embrace a life filled with exploration, happiness, kindness, and adventure. Along the way, I met a wonderful man, acquired a wealth of new knowledge and skills, and began expanding my horizons in ways I could never have imagined.  

Despite all the positive changes, there is something a little melancholy about acknowledging that I’m no longer part of the place I called home for most of my life. But there is also something liberating. I’ve stopped trying to fit in there. I’ve stopped trying to be the person they recognize. That was never me to begin with. I boxed up my old memories, keeping only the best ones or those that would serve me well on my new adventures, and I’ve set forth on a path I don’t recognize. I don’t know where it will lead, but it won’t lead back home, and that’s OK. I’m done there.

I like who I’m becoming, and having the opportunity to define myself and the place I now call home is part of my new adventure. Leaving home behind doesn’t mean that I don’t love it and appreciate the many good things about where I came from that made me who I am. I was lucky to grow up in the time and place that I did. Home shaped my values and my skill set. However, I’m ready to expand my horizons, acquire new skills, and form new friendships. I’m not sure whether I’m more of an ancient mariner or a mystic astrologer, but either way, I know my path forward is charted in the stars.