Under One Sky

This is not fiction, but rather some random musings from around the campfire during our roadtrip last summer.


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The sky is casting a golden glow over the Arizona desert as I perch on the edge of the hill and look out over the plains below. As the setting sun turns the sky to fire, I watch the rock grow red and the sagebrush become a dusky bronze shadow.
A warm wind ruffles my hair. All around me the chorus of crickets raises its collective voice into the evening sky. In the distance a solitary dog barks.
In this moment, a sense of contentment steals over me. A pure joy. A wonder. An awe and a reverence for the vastness of the creation that surrounds me.
In this moment, a realization strikes me.
We are all sharing this sky. Every one of us.
The old Navajo man we met wandering down the road whose dream is to go salmon fishing in British Columbia. The baby-faced Nebraskan state trooper who was interrupted in his evening wildlife watching by a speeding car from British Columbia. The park rangers at Mesa Verde whose respect for the sacred place they are entrusted to keep safe is instilled in everyone who visits the land. Even the fractious child in the tent trailer at Yellowstone whose middle-of-the-night tantrum awakened his campsite neighbours.
And most of all, you.
All of you. My friends, my family, my connections in every corner of the globe.
At this moment you too are sharing this sky with me.
For some of you it is still daytime. You are out and about in the sun – or the rain – taking care of your daily business. For others, it is evening too. You are sitting in your backyards or curled up on your couches or relaxing on your cabin porches, enjoying this summer (or winter) moment. For still others it is long since nighttime. You are warm in your beds, sleeping soundly under a starry sky.
I think of you all, and I wish I could capture this moment for every one of you.
I wish there was a song or a painting or a film or a dance that could evoke the feeling of this moment, in this place, under this sky.
I wish there was a way I could share with you this feeling – of wonder, of awe, of reverence. And, most of all, of belief.
Of belief in yourself. In the rightness of your place in the world and in your ability to make a difference to it, in some small way.
Of belief in others. In the inherent goodness of all beings and of our essential sameness and commonality as members of the human race.
Of belief in creation. In the wonder of the environment that surrounds us and in the sacred trust we hold to look after it – for now, and for all time.
Of belief in God. Whatever you call Him, however you see Him – or Her: a supreme being who has shaped the universe, a collection of life forces and energies of nature, a personal friend who helps to guide your daily life.
Of belief in dreams. In the knowing that those visions and hopes and plans you hold within you – those you talk about aloud and those you hold in some deep silent place in your soul – can indeed come to be.
This is what I want to share – in song, in painting, in film, in dance.
And dance I do – a silly, spontaneous, jumping, twirling dance against the backdrop of the setting sun.
Then I sit. And I contemplate the world in front of me and I take my tools – letters and syllables, words and phrases– and try to rebuild it all for you.
The sky. The sun. The sage. The crickets. The warm wind and the red rocks and the immensity of the universe in which we live.
And this feeling I want to leave you with. This wonder. This joy. This peace.
This knowing that, wherever we are, we are one. Joined by one creation.
Under one sky.