The power went out again tonight. This happens twice, maybe three times, a week. Usually we have no power for some minutes; sometimes it’s an hour. Two days ago it was almost ten hours without electricity. It’s very hot here this evening, so I thought I’d go out and take a little walk to get some air. I put on my “head-mounted” flashlight and headed out; at one point the flashlight started flickering a little, so I stopped and took it off to see if the battery case was closed properly.
Something didn’t seem right with me. It wasn’t vertigo, but I felt slightly unsettled, disoriented, slightly out of it the moment I was in the dark (though there’s a pretty nice moon that’s beginning to wane). I stood there for a moment trying to figure out what it was that I was feeling, for it was something I didn’t recall feeling before.
And then I realized: I was feeling out of sorts because it is a different night sky here – or at least I’m oriented differently to the sky (cue “Starry Night”). It is a beautiful sky, but one I’m unfamiliar with.
What amazes me is that even though I don’t take intentional notice of the night sky –impossible for me to take much notice, in fact, after I moved from Montecito to Los Angeles in 2004 – I do notice it on a realm of consciousness (was going to write “level,” but I think “realm” is better) that is not easily articulable. This perception of such subtlety, I’m certain, is what helps us be he social animals that we are. And I can’t help but think that this faculty – so often unrecognized – plays a huge part in our spiritual life. In fact, it was this insight that was St. Ignatius Loyola’s gift to the Church.
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