Rascal Flatts Starry Sky

A blue funk propelled me to lace up my sneakers and go for a walk. At 10:05 p.m. I am blessed to live in a lovely low-crime community (the perfect locale in horror movies, but I digress).

Off I went, droopy-shoulders, self-worth so low I had to pull down my socks to see it. I meandered shadowy cul de sacs and gawked at stars crowding the navy sky. In the darkness the neighborhood’s 80-foot trees seemed to loom taller and the velvet sky stretched forever. Dwarfed by such natural splendor, I felt more insignificant and really, really small in this grand universe. How could I, a speck of unfocused protoplasm, matter in the larger scheme of things?

Then I remembered Stephen Hawking and his new book. The Grand Design argues the universe created itself. God need not apply. I have not read the book but instantly disagreed when I scanned an article about it a few days ago. I remembered I paused, thinking that DNA is the instruction manual for life. I’m not a rocket scientist, but if instructions exist didn’t something create the instructions? I thought about this again as I passed towering trees, an infinite sky and winking stars.

Suddenly I began to feel better. That happens when I link unrelated thoughts and get a mini epiphany. I mattered to my family, friends and a few enemies. I mattered. If this hippy speck of protoplasm has an impact on the lives of others on this gargantuan planet, well… I was pretty awesome after all. Five minutes into my trek and already I felt better. Empowerment, regardless of the source, injects a bounce in your step and laughter in your eyes. I strutted down the middle of the road like I owned it, smiling like the suburban stealth killers in horror movies. A man walking his dog actually crossed the street as I approached with my insaniac grin and deliberate gait. I like to think the dog tugged him away in search of someone else’s lawn to defile. As we came within clear view of each other, he looked me over and determined I was safe. Maybe sane, too. We exchanged pleasantries.

I walked 1.5 miles, all the while appreciating the beauty of a desaturated neighborhood. I listened to the cacophony of creatures in the dark and inhaled fragrances of unseen flowers. By the time I returned home, I felt so radiant the stars asked me to dim my shine. Who knew a night stroll borne out of sadness could turn so delicious? Whether feeling blue or buoyant, I think a nightly stroll may be a habit worth forming.