Orion Rising....

I was outside this morning, around five, and it was dark still. And cold. I was cold in the early morning air. That's okay, though, as it has been a long time since I was cold. Months, in fact.

The moon was only a quarter of itself, hanging low in the southeast. And not far from it, rising in the late summer/early autumn sky, was Orion. The sky was particularly clear and Orion's Belt was unmistakable. I stood, transfixed, and stared at it for quite some time.

I remember summer nights, lying on a blanket on the lawn, looking up at the stars. My brothers and I, listening, fascinated, to Daddy's stories about sailors navigating the oceans by following the stars. Daddy knew all the names of the constellations and the Greek mythology that went with them.

Because we were out looking at the stars in the summer, I don't think we ever saw Orion. At least, I don't remember seeing it.

The Yokut Indians, a tribe here in Central California, believed that Orion's Belt represented the footprints of the flea god, who went to search the skies for his five wives. The Yokuts knew that they couldn't count on those stars to guide them in the summertime. And that there wouldn't be any fleas in the winter.

Seeing Orion means that time is passing. Another summer is drawing to a close and another winter is approaching. I have no way of knowing how many winters I will have. Or how many summers, either, until the end of my days.

All I know is that each one is special. Each one has its own purpose. And each one brings me more and more appreciation of the wonders that surround me. That's what life should be, to me: an appreciation of the incredible stars in the universe.

A sense of continuation and a readiness to embrace change. A group of stars to navigate through life by, knowing that, as things change, and change again, Orion will still be there, in the autumn sky: the hunter, the flea god, or whatever else it represents, in other cultures.

It will always be Orion.