Momentous

/ roughwighting

https://pixabay.com/photos/mountains-fog-silhouette-nature-6822937//titouhwayneIt’s just the three of us. My boyfriend, his best friend, and me.

We are a threesome. I love Jim, I think. He’s handsome, athletic, and he treats me like a flower. Henry David Thoreau, simplify, Walden Pond

But I really like John, Jim’s best friend and roommate. He’s a thinker, a philosopher, a Henry Thoreau look alike, only better looking.

So, I have the best of both worlds. And on this lazy Saturday evening, when most of our college friends are at the frat houses drinking beer and dancing to the D.J., John suggests, “let’s drive to the top of the mountain.”

mountain, valley, Pixabay, vacation, VermontWe’re all juniors at a college nestled between mountains in Pennsylvania. Usually it’s cloudy, so I never bother looking at those mountains. But on a rare clear day, I hunger to get out of campus and see what’s on top of the world.

We drive in Jim’s orange Rambler, about 10 years too old to be decent and probably the ugliest car in PA, if not the world. But it gets us now chug chug chugging up the long winding narrow road. Up, up, more UP. We don’t pass a single car. In a college town, bars and fraternities and even the Howard Johnson’s nearby are more seductive to the population.

Finally, after about a 40-minute slow climb, we get to the top and find a small dirt area to park the car. The night is dark – so dark, without a light to be seen around us.

John, always the think-ahead guy, opens the trunk and brings out a large blanket. He spreads it on the green slope before us, and without a word, the three of us plunk down, flat on our backs, arms behind our heads, looking up at the now darkened sky. https://pixabay.com/illustrations/starry-night-stars-blue-background-2265488/G4889166

And that’s when I see it. The UNIVERSE! The black void above me is not black after all, but full of bright tiny diamonds that blink off and on, like a Morse code to 20-year-old me.

I hear a loud yet silent message: 

THIS IS Real. This is. You are insignificant.

 Look at the vastness surrounding you.

This is Life.

I’m flabbergasted. I’m aghast. I’m finally realizing I have no idea of who I am and where I fit into this space in college, in between these men, in L I F E.

I widen my eyes further. This is what’s REAL! I can’t talk. Actually, none of us do. We realize, in that minute, on the top of the mountain, that our existence is the opposite of momentous.

That we are bits of sand strewn on Earth.

John starts crying, just a tiny bit. He finds my hand and holds it. Jim seems to have fallen asleep.

I know that I will never forget this moment in my time. 

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What is/was a MOMENTOUS time in your life?

128 thoughts on “Momentous”

  6. It’s easy to forget the vastness of the universe when we get bogged down in the everyday, so it’s important to have reminders like this. Thanks for the reality check this Friday morning! ❤

    Liked by 5 people

  8. I’ve been reading about the universe a lot this year (A Brief History of Time, and working my way through Cosmos), so I fully identify with the beauty and message of this post. Is it a true story, Pam?

    Liked by 5 people

  9. The trick, in marriage as in life, is to bring “like” and “love” together in the same person, no Jim and John for me.

    You brought us to the pinnacle of the world, if not the universe, with this momentous post. Thanks, Pam! 😀

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  14. You inspire thinking moments for me, Pam! The Sierra backpacking trips with husband and sons at ten pm when all the lights of heaven twinkle and dart thrill me now fifty years later.

    Liked by 4 people

    • Oh the memories! And although that time with your husband and sons was over 50 years ago, the momentous moments are still within you always! I’m so glad this blog post brought you back there. 💚🌟

      Liked by 1 person

  15. Great post, Pam. That was a momentous occasion. Mine occurred in the night like yours. I was lying on my back in the middle of a country road after being ejected from my car, which had been hit by another. My breath was gone, and the night sky was filled with stars. I was only twenty-one and had the thought that I hadn’t lived yet and dying would be a waste. My breath returned. The realization that I would live came in a monumental rush which I never forgot.

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  17. One night in Stone Harbour, NJ, it was the beginning of August when the Perseus Meteor Showers were active, I sat on a deck at night and watched shooting stars and saw a dolphin swim up the canal right in front of me. Moments like that do make you feel the insignificance of being a little human living in this vast and beautiful solar system.

    Liked by 4 people

  18. Pam…I read your post four times. It might go back and read it again – just because. You so masterfully put into words a feeling I’ve had (only once or twice) but cherished. The moment that stands out the most was just after my dad passed away and I swear I heard his voice hushed between some clouds and trees. Quiet, comforting, a reminder that his essence and heart were near. Thank you so, so much. xo! 🥰

    Liked by 3 people

    • This may sound horrible, but what would we humans do if “all the lights turned off” for ONE night of the year. I think the immensity of what we’d all see above could perhaps change many lives.

      Liked by 1 person

      • You got me. I’ve thought of two … not necessarily the same time of moments … but standing in class, being in awe of where I’d got to. Recognising then that I can do whatever I pit my mind to. But also believing/realising that I want to help others have that belief in themselves too.
        The other one was just a couple of years ago, after 20+ years of struggling with Chronic fatigue syndrome, realising I can get my life back and now I’m determined to live it as best I can. I have taken control … or realised I can be, and am, in control

        Liked by 1 person

  23. What a wonderful share, Pam. Isn’t it funny how a simple thing can come and take over our emotions, our everything? That you and John shared this overwhelm – with Jim on the side, there but not IN the moment in the same way – just makes it all the more… MORE.

    I shall have to dig deep to find mine.

    Liked by 3 people

  24. Wow this gave me chills, Pam, because I can’t say exactly when I came to the same realization, I completely relate to the emotions you all felt. As for another momentous time in my life, it was the middle of the night, I was nursing my son and I was exhausted. All I wanted to do was finish, put him back in the crib and go back to sleep. Just as I was in the depths of feeling sorry for myself, a voice came to me that said, “Relax, it’s all going to be okay.” I swear it was spoken to me out loud. And the words worked.

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  25. I’m staying up late to read and comment on this post. It’s so meaningful in many ways. It would be natural to feel insignificant when seeing the expanse of the universe, at least as much as the eye and see. I spend a lot of time watching what the James Webb telescope sees out there. I can’t see the night sky so I envy those that can. It’s breath taking from what I can see online. But I too have had momentous moments. So many that have let me know that we are not insignificant despite how we might feel. Each of us is here with clear intention for some reason. A purpose that is valuable to the world and the universe. Part of a bigger plan. Whenever I feel too small, I go back to that moment and remember who I am. Never forget that. We are the butterfly. Your story moved me to remember that.

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  26. Wow! That’s a hard question, Pam. I’ll have to think about it. There have been many significant times, times I like to think back on like my marriage and the births of my three children and my three grandchildren.

    Your momentous moment reminds me of two experiences. #1: Looking at the night sky when we lived in Vanuatu. Vanuatu is in the Southern Hemisphere, so the sky is different there, and it’s a small, developing country with absolutely no light pollution, so the number of stars is unbelievable. #2 was on a cruise ship. I went out on the deck at night, and as I looked out into the seemingly endless black ocean, I felt scared by the enormity of it.

    Liked by 3 people

    • I can see that night sky that you describe here in Vanuatu. No night pollution!! I kind of remember when it was like that in the early 60s. What a change. And the only reason I’d consider going on a cruise ship is to see the night sky as you describe. Unfortunately I get horribly seasick so I think I’ll just look for the nearest mountain soon. 🤔😏

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  27. A lovely story, Pam. I alternate between a “speck of sand” in the vast universe, and the utter miraculously of my life, the sheer improbability that I, after billions of years of evolution actually exist! That’s such a huge gift. My aha moment was probably when my daughter was born – it was pure love at first sight. 🙂

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    • I just reread your comment today, which is perfect because it is my daughter’s birthday today. And yes, the moment she was born and placed on my chest, and our eyes met it was mutual attraction and recognition. A soulmate met again.(let me add here that we are very very close, but she would scoff at the soulmate thing 😏). To the miracle of our BEing. 💜

      Liked by 1 person

  28. How amazing. It’s alway interesting to learn what stays with someone, is memorable, and what fades away. One person’s ‘memorable’ is another person’s ‘say what?’

    Liked by 3 people

  29. Watching Meteor Showers with 100’s of “shooting stars” on the banks of the Chesapeake.
    Sitting on the Cliff in Acadia National Park watching the waves crash and birds soar.

    Writing a story about moving to Florida . . . and deciding (spur of the moment) to move to FL.

    Liked by 3 people

    • Interesting question, Andrea. Let’s just say it should have influenced how I felt about both. But sometimes hormones lead us in different directions. 😳 And yes, I think you’re right. It’s nature who teaches us where we really belong in the universe. We are tiny tiny, but a friend of mine who read this post reminded me that we are not insignificant to those who love us.

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  34. I imagine many of us have had those “we’re just a speck in the universe” moments. Lots of deep and tension-filled stuff going on here. I see the outline for a lengthier story here, Pam.

    Liked by 3 people

  37. Sure enough – somehow my settings on WP had changed. I have not been getting notices about people blogging at all lately, but assumed those who I follow had gone quiet. Not so! Apologies! I’ll start seeing notices now, I hope. Very strange.

    Liked by 1 person

  38. Any opportunity I have ever had in life to sit next to the ocean at sunset or sunrise when there have been few or no other people on the beach.
    I have recently learned that we actually do have stardust in our bones. (Back to the moment on the mountain, staring at the universe.)

    Liked by 1 person

  39. And then you know why John is the one who understands you. Right here on earth, I have that feeling sometimes when I am alone in the forest in my Rocky mountains, listening to the wind in the trees and birdsong.

    Liked by 1 person

    • “Right here on Earth…” love this phrase. Sometimes when we experience a momentous moment (like in a forest or viewing the wide world of stars/Universe above us) I wonder if I’m “right here on Earth,” or floating in another type of space. (Wacky? but I think you know what I mean).

      Liked by 1 person

  40. I have been catching up on your posts, Pam. You had comments closed on earlier posts. I love, love your stories (as you know), and this one speaks to what is most important. I often think of city kids who never see stars. Best to you.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thanks so much. I didn’t know I have comments closed – must be a certain amount/time and then WP does that. But THANK YOU for reading and catching up. THANK you for enjoying my stories. And yes, city kids are missing out on stars and forests. Sad. Special monies should be dedicated to these kids for summer camps away from the city.

      Liked by 1 person

  41. I had to stop and really think about this question Pamela…. but then it hit me. The day I graduated from high school. I remember it so well. I was standing outside of the gym lined up with my classmates and I started looking around at them. Most I had known since I was 10 years old when I had transferred to that school. I was suddenly overwhelmed by the fast that there was a good possibility I would never lay eyes on some of them ever again. The realization that this was a significant change in our lives and we were closing a chapter. I started tearing up and my BFF (at the time) was asking me what was wrong. I said, “Do you realize this is it? We are going to walk across that stage tonight and there will be people standing here with us right now we will never see again? High school is truly over!” She was ecstatic. “I KNOW!! Thank God, this is over and I’m good with never seeing some of these people ever again!” I don’t think she understood the gravity of the situation. I cried all through the ceremony. I was sad, elated, confused and scared all at once. It was the first time, of many times, I would think… This is what it’s like, when it’s not like that anymore.

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    • What a wonder that you shared with me this momentous moment of yours (and yes, I remember that momentous time so well – graduating from high school). I don’t think I was as insightful about it at the time as you were. But, miraculously, one of my hs friends whom I haven’t seen since my h.s. graduation (!!) just moved to a town about 40 minutes from me and met me at a local restaurant (in a neat old inn). She looks entirely different (in all good ways) and we talked and laughed and enjoyed each other’s company for hours. It was so much fun, and so unexpected.

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      • That is so cool. I love reconnecting with people from my past. I have lost touch with most of my fellow students.
        I am friends with several of my classmates from school on FB, and I have one that lives in AK that I literally have not laid eyes on since we graduated, but we text all the time. I’m not close to anyone else, and I lived in a relatively small town, and I knew ALL my fellow graduates. There were less than 200 of us. Even though we have been out of school for 42 years, there are surprising numbers who have passed and dropped off the planet. No one has a clue where they are. 🤷🏼‍♀️ It makes me sad if I think about my insight, having proved true that night. But such is life.. God has put the right people here now, and I can’t imagine it any other way ❤️

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