I share your sentiment. I volunteer for a charity that provides international disaster response. I was in Mozambique earlier this year, in the middle of a disaster zone, no power so no light pollution. Here's a short extract from a piece I wrote about the experience one night. I was sleeping on the concrete roof of the farmhouse that was centre of the aid distribution in the area...
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Cold. Wet. It is 0230. We've just been rained on. A light rain but it's cold and the mesh netting of the mosipod offers free passage to soak me inside. The days toll of many litres of water sits heavy within. Arise, down the steps, toilet. Back outside. Up the steps.
I look up.
The sight that greets me will stay with me forever. In the midst of disaster I see the dazzling, aching beauty of the heavens arc across the sky above. Not a single light shines on the land around me. The world is silent and utterly still save for my breath and the faint sense of life from my team mates sleeping around me.
From horizon to horizon the sky is vivid and alive with twinkle and sparkle and depth and clarity. Such light and colour as found only in the imagination is accented with an occasional shooting star. I don't know how long I stood there. I just have to stare at it all. I feel like I can reach up and touch the universe itself it's so clear above me.
I wasn't the only one. Someone else is standing out here to. In the starlight, I don't know who.
"Magnificent, isn't it?" and acknowledgement, is all we can exchange.
Somehow language just doesn't capture it. Words are just a dull tribute to the majesty the sky shared with us that night.
I lie down. Staring up at the scene above now muted by the mosquito mesh. I fall asleep to fireflies dancing above me.
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The experience, and others gained in that month I was there, will stay with me forever. There was something primal and ancient about seeing the sky I saw that night. I can truly understand our ancestors predisposition to create gods and tell the stories written in the heavens above them. It was an amazing experience.
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Cold. Wet. It is 0230. We've just been rained on. A light rain but it's cold and the mesh netting of the mosipod offers free passage to soak me inside. The days toll of many litres of water sits heavy within. Arise, down the steps, toilet. Back outside. Up the steps.
I look up.
The sight that greets me will stay with me forever. In the midst of disaster I see the dazzling, aching beauty of the heavens arc across the sky above. Not a single light shines on the land around me. The world is silent and utterly still save for my breath and the faint sense of life from my team mates sleeping around me.
From horizon to horizon the sky is vivid and alive with twinkle and sparkle and depth and clarity. Such light and colour as found only in the imagination is accented with an occasional shooting star. I don't know how long I stood there. I just have to stare at it all. I feel like I can reach up and touch the universe itself it's so clear above me.
I wasn't the only one. Someone else is standing out here to. In the starlight, I don't know who.
"Magnificent, isn't it?" and acknowledgement, is all we can exchange.
Somehow language just doesn't capture it. Words are just a dull tribute to the majesty the sky shared with us that night.
I lie down. Staring up at the scene above now muted by the mosquito mesh. I fall asleep to fireflies dancing above me.
--------------------------------------------
The experience, and others gained in that month I was there, will stay with me forever. There was something primal and ancient about seeing the sky I saw that night. I can truly understand our ancestors predisposition to create gods and tell the stories written in the heavens above them. It was an amazing experience.