I Forgot About The Stars

Call me a Luddite, but to me there really is something strangely disturbing about getting on a plane and ending up halfway-round the world. Yet, leaving the States is something I highly recommend every American do from time to time, if possible.

It’s been over ten years since I last left the country and one of the things I am finding most stunning about New Zealand is the degree to which American culture has infiltrated everyday life in other parts of the world …or at least the artifacts of American culture. Evidence of American corporations is everywhere.

One trip to the grocery store and it’s easy to see… such homegrown brands as Sara Lee, Kelloggs, Old El Paso, etc. line the shelves; it’s corporate globalization right in your face. American music dominates the radio (though they seem to be stuck in the 80s in New Zealand), American politics are discussed on the television; American fashion, American celebrity…you get the idea. With manufacturing gone from the states, our only export is cultural flotsum and jetsum it seems.

But up on my sister’s land, all of this falls away – and the magic of this island completely takes over. I could try to describe what this looks like to you- if you’ve seen Lord of the Rings or Avatar, you get a pretty good idea- but even the best digitally enhanced Hollywood big screen production can’t replicate the extraordinary beauty of this place. Morning times are best and I have my coffee out on my sister’s kitchen deck, which overlooks her 40 acres of rolling, densely vegetated property. As far as the eye can see, giant palms, gorse, pines and jungle scrub form this forest primeval my sister now calls home. The fogs creep slowly within the valleys each morning as the sun rises and the land warms. I keep expecting a brontosaurus to poke his head out above the tree line.

Most mornings I head out for my morning run around 6:30 AM under the cover of fog and a slow light drizzle. Absolutely perfect weather. My route is a killer. Bonnie’s house is about 2.5 miles off the main road. From her house, it’s straight downhill and across a ridge with extraordinary views on either side- one side rolling green bottomland dotted with sheep and cows, the other side a slow roll to the shore and shadows of island preserves. Unbelievable.

Anyway, I travel at a steady pace, paying attention to my form – perpendicular to the road, slight bend forward at the waist. Surprisingly, after a week, I have absolutely no knee pain using this downhill method. I reach the bottom in about 17:30 and brace myself for the return. It’s a bun-burning killer with many 30% grades. 7 days after arriving I’ve managed to shave two minutes off my total time – but I have to rapidly walk the steeper uphill grades. I am determined to conquer this beast without blowing out my knee or Achilles!

Bonnie has been building her dream house here in New Zealand for two years now – an incredible two-story, open beam construction “house in the trees” with light so bright that my Photogray sunglasses turn dark when I’m standing in the kitchen. The rooms, though unfinished are large and airy. I’m installed in what will ultimately be my sister and brother-in-law’s master bedroom. An extraordinary, large room with tons of space, I can lay in the bed at night and watch the moon rise over the ridge behind her house without even sitting up. Absolutely incredible.

It’s been several years since I have been out of Los Angeles. Work commitments and financial pressures have made it difficult to get away. Being in the green, smelling the Earth, and hearing the extraordinary calls of the island birds is like food for my soul. I feel more alive than I have in years. I am being healed. Christina – you were so right. I needed this.

But the best was last night.

I was sitting down in my room about 9:00 PM doing some writing when Bonnie called me. “Hey – come out here…NOW!” “OK, ok.” I have to admit I was a little bit irritated by being interrupted from what I was doing, but I pulled on my UGGs and went out the front door.

People, what I saw was indescribable.

OK – I realize that some of you live in rural areas. Heck, some of you live in remote parts of Alaska. But I live in Los Angeles. It’s been years (since camping in the Mexican desert in 1998) that I have seen anything like it. There it was above us…the absolute pitch-black populated by hundreds of millions of stars…a soft, milky blanket of majesty stretching off into unknown, unfathomable distances…our galaxy and beyond. Gentle. Quiet. The infinite. Softly Bonnie whispered, “Isn’t it cool?”

We watched a while, talked a little…in quiet, reverent tones as though we were avoiding waking a baby. I don’t know why, it just seemed appropriate. We saw shooting stars, bright planets, Orion’s belt and the Big Dipper – all upside down.

And then it occurred to me that this is there all the time. It’s there- only I just can’t see it. The lights of the city in which I live obscure this majesty, this awe-inspiring wonder. Is it any surprise that we no longer believe in miracles?

What else is here that we just can’t see because the lights, or our commitments, or the pressures of our lives obscure them from our view? What are we missing? What have we lost? Can it be regained? I am not sure. But let me tell you, it’s definitely worth the effort.

• Currently 5.0/5 Stars.