by Liz Jansen
My recent trip east from Los Angeles to Atlanta became a race against time, aiming to reach safe harbor in Georgia ahead of Hurricane Michael. The relatively leisurely pace I envisioned was tossed to the wind as I followed Interstate 10 across California and Arizona into Texas. I could not, however, pass by Fort Davis, Texas without stopping for a tour at the McDonald Observatory.
According to their website, this research unit of The University of Texas is one of the world’s leading centers for astronomical research, teaching, public education, and outreach.
For three weeks I’d connected with the energy of the land as I traveled west across plains, over mountains, and along valleys paralleling the Pacific. A visit to the observatory offered time to gaze skyward and connect with the heavens.
Powerful telescopes sit atop Mount Locke and Mount Fowlkes under some of the darkest skies in the continental USA. Astronomers train their lens skyward, searching for planets, exploding stars, and black holes. Soon they’ll begin a project to better understand of dark energy.
We’re part of the same system, bound by the same universal laws, so it’s not surprising that in addition to the telescopes teaching me about stars, they taught me about myself.
3 Profound Lessons from the McDonald Observatory
Clouds Block Awareness
As powerful and state-of-the-art as these telescopes are, a cloud floating across the viewing area blocks the connection with the universe. If rain threatens, the viewing window closes, which stops data collection and the decoding of light transmission.
Thoughts are often compared to clouds. They form, float through our consciousness, and dissipate. But these thoughts lead to judgments and interfere with our connection to each other, and true self, and the universe.
New Insights Come from Old News
As exciting as it is when astronomers decipher the messages in the light energy that arrives from far away, it’s old news. By the time light from the edge of the universe arrives at the telescope, it’s traveled 46.1 billion light years to tell us about galactic events that happened 13.8 billion years ago. That’s very old news, but the best we’ve got.
As humans, we also operate on old news, except we’re usually unaware of it. Our thoughts and beliefs are based on stories that have been passed down through the generations. They form the basis for life choices. It’s only when we explore and question what we’ve accepted as fact that we begin to see that there are other perspectives. We learn that we’re working with data that served our ancestors, or us, at one time, but is no longer relevant.
Awareness Comes from Darkness
Data from the forefront of research arrives from darkness. Astronomers at the McDonald Observatory collect their information primarily at night as sunlight would damage the telescope’s lenses.
We learn most by exploring our shadows—the parts of ourselves we deny or repress, the wounds where we hide hurt, or the aspects of our self we dislike or disown. As hidden as they may be, these qualities inform our thoughts, choices and beliefs. They draw energy, diverting it from creativity and our search for happiness.
By becoming more aware, we see that maybe things aren’t the way we thought they were. Only through deep exploration of our inner space that we discover these aspects, learn to give them a constructive expression, and free the blockages that keep us from expressing our full potential.
A skilled healer is invaluable in facilitating this process. Contact me if you’re interested in learning more.
This week I had the unenviable experience of riding through two separate, large storm systems, one on the fringe of a hurricane, as I rode east across the southern U.S.
After making my way across the country, I stalled for a week in northern at the Horizons Unlimited travelers’ event, then visiting with friends in southern California. Today I’m back on the road, heading east to Georgia, planning to arrive there on the 12th.
Here are a few more endorsements from early reviewers.
Five days into another road trip and I’m settled in to the uncertainty and unpredictability of life on the road.
In a few days, Trudy (my motorcycle) and I will be on our way across the continent. You’d think with the hundreds of thousands of miles I’ve ridden, departures would be easier.
I’m not the only person on the roads. There are tons of very nice campgrounds, hotels, and a few friends I can’t wait spend time with again. Times can get lonely, but they’re fleeting. What’s more likely, is my heart aches for loved ones to experience the same joy that fills my days. Over planning is stifling. Leaving room for the inevitable serendipity of the road is magical. The route overview on the map is a guideline and helps me maintain perspective. It connects a few places I want to visit. In between is variable.
On September 16, I’ll begin working from the road for five or six weeks. I expect that road to take me on a giant loop through the continental USA, a total distance of about 10,000 kilometers/6,000 miles. The Horizons Unlimited event in Mariposa, California is the impetus; I’ve wanted to attend for four years. The timing couldn’t be better.
About the time I got my first bicycle, I got my first paid job — picking strawberries on our farm. I could keep what I earned but I had to buy my clothes. Early on, I learned how to work, budget, and be self-sufficient. I embraced my cultural and family’s values of independence and hard work, within a social structure. It offered such freedom!
Growing up in Niagara, close to the U.S. border, it was commonplace to go “across the river” for shopping and entertainment. Any photo ID would do; a passport wasn’t necessary. Once I started traveling, especially by motorcycle, we’d cross regularly, traveling through or to American destinations.
