Once In Eight Hundred Years

It’s the first Monday off for our winter break in Peachtree City. After coffee and the other morning necessaries, we leave this suburb.

Forty minutes later, we arrive in Candler Park and head to Fox Bros BBQ. A touch of Texas in Georgia and the best brisket in town. We eat well.

Five minutes from the BBQ joint is the Natural History museum. We look for a forest on the map there and it turns out you have to go through the museum to get to it. They close in an hour of us arriving, so Jing recommends Candler Park and we go.

A nice walk after a robust meal helps the digestion and my brain feels like it’s coming back online. We stumble upon an urban trail called the Stone Mountain Trail.

Turns out it’s twenty-something miles of urban trail between Midtown and Stone Mountain, a historical site east of Atlanta that depicts soldiers on horseback carved into a small stone mountain.

By the time we get back to the truck, the sun’s starting to set and the traffic has died down. It takes us about an hour to get back to Peachtree City and we ask, are we still trying to catch the Great Conjunction?

We agree we do, arrive at the lake parking spot and wait there for a minute. Jing’s checking on the star map app to see if Saturn and Jupiter are visible yet. They’re not, so we hang out for a bit and I realize I’ve lost some keys.

I try not to worry about it too much, I’ll look for them tomorrow, I think.

Time passes and we walk out onto the edge of the peninsula and we find Saturn and Jupiter. There’s a Christmas party going on and they’re blasting holiday songs as we look to the sky above the treeline.

Jupiter bright with Saturn just to its right, gently emitting red light. We watch for long enough to take it in, commit it to memory. This once-in-eight-hundred-years astronomical event. And I’m glad we made it, decided to go and see it with our own eyes, after an already-full day.

It would’ve been easy to just go home and sit on the couch and watch something. It turned out to be far more impressive to see these two planets edge closer to each other together in person, as we stood close too.

Being present and aware that this is such a rare thing to see. We talk about exactly that and that leads our conversation into deep places as we watch Saturn and Jupiter bright but low in the sky.

Imagine how dense the sky was with stars in the days before light pollution. It makes every bit of sense our ancestors made stories about the gods and creatures in the sky. Why we looked up so much in awe, in praise, in fear—

As we walked back to the truck, we’re jolly.

We’re feeling energized after being able to see this special moment of the solar system and sharing some earnest conversation.

Thinking about it now, it’s always worth it to go see the spectacle. Go find that new place, come out for the event.

There is so much virtual participation this year, it feels great to go witness something in real life, safely. Especially something this rare.

Even when tired. Even when it’s out of the way.

Follow your interests and you’ll be energized.

It’ll lead to new conversations and fresh reflections.

At home, Jing mentions that the stars went below the horizon at around 7.30pm. We would’ve missed the sight entirely if we didn’t commit to seeing it when we did.

Sometimes, the universe will provide you with an opportunity to have great timing. Times when it just feels right to do that thing, even if you think, eh, I could see it later.

Follow that feeling that leads to movement and you won’t be disappointed. Commit at times of hesitation.