March 31, 2002 ~ Shooting Stars, Part II
(Read Part I first).
Morgan and I had had more than our fair share of coincidences, of course. It seemed that already we were reading each other's minds, finishing each other's sentences, even though we did not have the advantage of body language, facial expressions, or tone of voice (aside from our sparse phone calls). Images, sayings, or expressions that I had mentioned to him would show up, inexplicably, in his life. Something he had mentioned to me would take me by surprise from a completely different source. But these were little things, flukes and random coincidences that could easily be brushed aside.
I clung to them, though, for they fed a very small warm spot that was growing inside, a spark of hope that maybe, maybe, this could be something more than some young and vulnerable feelings that would be killed by the distance between us, a fleeting, impossible fancy.
Then one day, in the chatroom, Morgan mentioned something curious that had happened to him. The following is what was said (Dawntreader=me Bansuri=Morgan):
Wednesday, July 15, 1998
Bansuri: I was very sad yesterday. I went to the coffee shop to meet Evan and ended up spending the night at his place.
When I was with Evan, we sat and listened to some quiet music in his darkened house, and then we went and walked under the stars. The night was very cool and there was no breeze. There aren't any lights around Evan's property, so the stars were in plain sight. The moon was orange and large, and I could see the arm of the galaxy like a great arch across the sky. I saw a shooting star, and then just sat silent. Thinking.
Dawntreader: That sounds wonderful . . . he must be a great friend . . . what did you think about?
Bansuri: You mostly. And the human spirit.
Dawntreader: Me?
Bansuri: I wondered what the chances were of seeing a streak of light in the night sky at just that moment. I wondered what the chances were of meeting you out of all the other people on the earth. Then I thought about God.
Dawntreader: ...All the amazing little details that came together to cross our paths...
Bansuri: Evan reminded me that if one of the stars in the sky died, humanity would likely never know because of the distance. He said that some of those stars were already gone and that all we were seeing was old light.
Dawntreader: I think about that often. It makes me wonder about time--to think that I am looking at something from a million years ago when I look at a star.
Bansuri: Stars remind me of memories.
And legacies.
I've felt this intense emotion for quite some time, but I don't know why.
Dawntreader: Faith. Connections.
I have a sneaking suspicion that when you board your plane to leave after your visit... I will cry.
(After a moment...)
Bansuri: I think I might too.
(Another pause...)
Dawntreader: A meteor, though, a shooting star--that is the present. It is some rock that randomly connects with the atmosphere and burns away in an instant of glory.
Bansuri: Like human life, or a fleeting moment. All that life really is--fleeting moments and memories--old light.
I think maybe I'm mourning the distance between us.
Dawntreader: Less than two weeks and then the distance will be obliterated. But what afterwards... I fear to speculate.
(Pauses...)
At least it's beautiful. We are given that.
Bansuri: Of course it is. It is all too beautiful. The pain, the love, it's all perfect.
Dawntreader: And I plan to make the most of that beauty... Carpe Diem... Seize the Day.
Bansuri: I already feel as though I could cry.
Dawntreader: I wish I could see you--could hug you.
Bansuri: Just because of the struggle, and how much life is worth. So much that it hurts horribly.
Dawntreader: What is it that hurts, though?
Just life?
Bansuri: And love.
I can't tell if it's joy or pain or both.
Dawntreader: Oh.
Bansuri: I guess that's what love is.
Dawntreader: I have believed for a long time--ever since I can remember--that the meaning of life is love. But maybe it's simpler than that: life is love and love is life.
Bansuri: Yes.
The fact that two strangers find each other in a crowd and understand. And love.
Dawntreader: I wish I could see your eyes right now...
Bansuri: So whose sky are you in? Am I your shooting star, or are you mine?
Dawntreader: Both?
I feel very happy, but very sad, all at the same time.
Bansuri: I am the child that looks into the sky and, for a moment, all the old light is just a background. A streak of brilliance appears. Fleeting beauty, and the child is doomed. He's fallen in love with a shooting star.
Dawntreader: You know, everyone who cares about me would warn me against someone like you, and a relationship like this. It makes me feel poetically rebellious.
Bansuri: I don't feel poetic, just that I understand. You know, I think God showed me a shooting star, so that I might understand.
And who are they? And what does it matter? We are here now, and there is no "they" with us. It is this moment. The end will not matter because it will be right, and it will shape us.
Dawntreader: "They" are my family, my friends. And they do matter.
Bansuri: "They" will keep the child from flying too high to catch the shooting star. And that is right.
Dawntreader: This is going to sound hopelessly romantic and sentimental, but I think you could very well be the most beautiful thing that has ever happened to me. And there is so much more to share--so much more to know about each other.
This is why it hurts.
Bansuri: I feel the same. This time has been like a lens, and it has focused so much. And there is still more to come.
Dawntreader: I... love you... and saying that feels different now.
Bansuri: I love you too. And it feels right.
That night I went home looking for a sign... I wanted to see a shooting star and attribute it to synchronicity. The night was mostly cloudy, and you can't see stars very well from the city anyway. So I thought myself rather silly to go out and look, but I did it anyway.
I was boarding with my friend's family at the time, and that friend came out to join me. The clouds started to clear off, so I kept my eyes on the sky as she talked to me. She was gently warning me against having a relationship with someone so far away whom I had yet to meet face to face. She was concerned.
At one point, she said something that made me slightly angry, so I turned to her, and, as I did so, her face lit up and she smiled. She had seen my shooting star, and I had missed it. I looked away, disappointed. I thought that it was symbolically fitting, however, that when she was warning me against Morgan, I had missed my moment of beauty.
I resolved myself right then to follow what I knew was right in this situation from then on, and not let others distract me from my fated path. I looked up just then, and a shooting star confirmed my resolution.
I started to speak to my friend about the beauty and hope that I had found, talking with Morgan. I told her about how faith blossomed out of such a dialogue. I explained how deeply love had already rooted itself, and how I couldn't turn back now, how I couldn't believe that God would give me so much beauty only to expect me to turn it down.
She was quiet for a few moments. "You know... It could be beautiful," she said. And she told me that perhaps I was right to follow the path that I had seen. She was even a little bit jealous.
We smiled at one another, and then both of our eyes strayed to the sky, where we both saw a brilliant shooting star, much brighter than the others. We had come to an agreement, and the beauty was visible to both of us now.
A shooting star is nothing but a meteor--a space rock traveling an apparently random path that just happens to intercept our small planet in its journey around the sun. At that juncture, it collides with the atmosphere of Earth, burning in an instant of glory, creating a flame of stardust across the night sky. This awe-inspiring display is like a single moment in one's life; filled with a paradox of pain and joy, suffering and beauty, fear and wonder all at once. Then, it too, dies and fades away, and it too becomes a memory--old light.
Moments are beautiful meteors; they are shooting stars that are the blazing, thriving life of the present moment against the backdrop of the old light of memories. We retain old experiences in the form of memories so that we might remember that which we have learned. Every shooting star is different and carries with it a new lesson. The challenge lies in knowing the potential of each blazing meteor, so that one may respect the value with which, out of all the places in infinity it could be, it graced one's life in a moment of beauty and awe.
To have found each other in the darkness was a miracle.
Four shootings stars. Morgan's one. Then my three, unlikely in the city, but there still. And timed so perfectly, to coincide exactly with key moments in my conversation with my friend? I could not believe that it was just a coincidence. I had prayed for a sign, and I had received it. I knew from that moment on that Morgan and I were to walk a path together.
I felt utter peace. I was awaiting, calmly, his arrival.
Finally, less than two weeks later, I was waiting at an arrival gate at the airport, watching his plane taxi up to the boarding ramp. Finally, I would have a chance to see his eyes.
continued in Part III...
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