Regarding Stars, Nights and the Moon

Ever since I was young, the night sky made me uneasy from time to time. Looking up at the stars or even at the moon makes me irrationally uncomfortable. I've thought about it for many years, why should the various aspects of the night sky freak me out the way it does. It's a puzzle. I think I know why the stars scare me; every time I look up and remember how many billion light-years away those stars are from me, the sheer distance paralyzes me. As for the moon scaring me, I'm not sure. Perhaps more of the same, but on a smaller scale. I especially get scared of the moon when it lights up a few lone clouds around it. Bizarre. In any case, this animated picture of the moon's phases and osscilations is a good example of why I think the moon is so fracking scary.

In some ways, I've gotten better and worse over time. I used to get really extreme about my fear. When I was seven years old, I had this calendar in my room that showed the phases of the moon each month. When it was night time, I couldn't look at it. I still remember, it was the picture of the new moon phase that frightened me the most. I would go about my business in my room, changing into pyjamas and getting into bed, all the while steadfastly keeping my eyes averted from the dreaded calendar. I've come to realize I have no problem staring up at the sky when I'm safely inside a moving vehicle. As well, my brother and sister were either unaware of or had forgotten about this particular eccentricity of mine.

But as much as the night sky and the stars bother me, one experience with the night stands in my mind as being particularly awesome: the Blackout of 2003. As the sun set and dusk fell upon us that first night, my family knew that we had to grab the opportunity to see the night sky without all the light pollution we have to deal with. My sister went outside and shouted that we had to come out and see. I walked out the front door, looked up... and it was overwheling. I weakly screamed "Oh my god!" and found myself clinging to the side of the house in terror. This wasn't the night sky I was used to seeing. This wasn't the night sky of urban civilization. This was the night sky of the Chilean mountains, or the Gobi desert, a hundred times more heart-stopping than anything I ever recalled. I could see the Milky Way. After that first moment of dizzying terror, I was enthralled and in awe. We busted out flashlights and sat in the backyard, pointing out the constellations we recognized and watching shooting stars flash by. It was beautiful. If I ever become Prime Minister, I am legislating that for one night every summer we blackout all light in Canada. If we plan it out and everything, it would be a wonderous thing.