Perseid Meteor Shower

I wanted to write this all down and capture my emotions while the memory of seeing the shower is still bright in my mind. I've said before that I write this blog as a journal, my way of fighting my fear of losing my memory. Tonight I feel more strongly about it than I have before, I need to cherish the memory of seeing the Perseid meteor shower. 

When I was little, my sister had a children's astrology book and matching plastic binoculars. I would liberate them and squint out of my bedroom window, imagining Orion fastening his belt, or Ursa Major shuffling through a forest. 


Unfortunately, I outgrew the fascination as quickly as I outgrew the toy binoculars, and it wasn't until I was 17 and staring up at the Cornish sky, marvelling at the stars untainted by light pollution, that I regained a momentary sense of how incredible the night sky truly is. I can't think about it too deeply, but even just scratching the surface, and thinking about all the eyes that have seen the same sky as mine is enough to leave me reeling. 

Gazing at them tonight, neck craning, arms pointing, I received a much needed lesson in perspective. For thousands of years humanity has placed such importance on the celestial bodies, looking to them for answers, guidance, and meaning far beyond their physical state. We forget that they are the memories of flaming balls of gas, and bestow them with stories and status. When I was little, I was always told that the Pole star was my nana watching over me, still shining, and a part of me refuses to forget that. It made it even more special to be stood with my mum, shouting with delight at every shooting star we saw. 

Shooting or not, seeing those beams of light scattered across the sky reminded me of how tiny things can be insignificant and forgettable, or a concentrated power. So often I feel that I am nothing in the world, or that I am a single star in a sky of problems, but when I stepped back and saw myself grinning at nothing more than a beam of light, I realised that the small things I do can have the biggest impact, and that there is so much more light in my life than there is dark. Like the shooting stars, my problems seem big and bold, and may command all my attention, but they are really just fleeting moments in my life, whereas my family and friends are like the Pole star, always watching and guiding me, the brightest in my sky.

Did you watch the shower?


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2 comments

  1. This was so beautifully written, I loved it. It's true that the meteor shower always brings up a lot of thoughts and feelings, especially when you're reminded of how small we are in the grand scheme of the universe and it's always amazing to be able to get to experience these amazing moments. Loved what you wrote in the final paragraph too, I can definitely relate as I've struggled with anxiety and depression and it's such a good way to look at life and how we deal with things. Really liked this! So glad you enjoyed the meteor shower too! - Tasha

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  2. I love the sky. I have always said its one of life's greatest pleasures. Its free, it looks amazing whatever time of day and whatever the weather. So beautifully written mate. And I love what you said about blogging fighting your fear of losing your memory. You're amazin gal x

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