Five thousand years ago, the Sumerians called the night ngi, the stars mul, and the moon Nanna.

Four thousand years ago, the Akkadians called the night mūšu, the stars kakkabū, and the moon Sîn.

Three thousand years ago, the Hittites called the night išpanza, the stars haštereš, and the moon Arma.

Two and a half thousand years ago, the Greeks called the night nux, the stars astra, and the moon Selênê.

Two thousand years ago, the Romans called the night nox, the stars stellae, and the moon Luna.

Kings and queens and heroes looked up at them. So did travelers coming home, and little children who sneaked out of bed. So did slaves, and mothers and soldiers and old shepherds, and Sappho and Muršili and Enheduanna and Socrates and Hatshepsut and Cyrus and Cicero. In this darkness it didn’t matter who they were, or where they stood. Only that they were human.

Think of that tonight, when you close your window. You are not alone. You share this night sky with centuries of dreamers and stargazers, and people who longed for quiet. Are you anxious? The Hittites were too: they called it pittuliyaš. Does your heart ache? The Greeks felt it too: they called it akhos. Those who look up to the stars for comfort are a family, and you belong to them. Your ancestors have stood under Nanna, Sîn, Arma, Selênê and Luna for five thousand years. Now its light is yours.

May it soothe you well.

SOURCE

Night music

August 25, 2019

The music of the night lies not in the stars but in the darkness between them.

Chloe Aridjis
Asunder

ejaculating pure energy

June 29, 2019

Now, in this split second of time, in the infinite depths of space, Black Holes are tearing stars apart, neutron stars are spinning hundreds of times a second, other stars are ejaculating pure energy and helping to form new solar systems, and I’m here, at the back end of beyond, on a spit ball little world engaging in an act that will supply me a few moments of solitary pleasure – bizarre isn’t it? But OMG I do love it…!

longing for something

February 21, 2019

So I perversely circle the late stars, drowsier and drowsier, sleepily longing for something..nothing – talking, working, eating, wondering always who am I?

Sylvia Plath
The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

Samhain Ritual

November 1, 2018

Last night out, naked to the cold mechanics of the stars. Flames from our bonfire licking the wide expanse of sky. The cold air indifferent to each of us. The moor empty, silent except for the whispered patterns of our words. Easy to believe the world has been abandoned –

Those who look beyond

August 30, 2017

Here is the Path written in blood, blood fresh fallen from the Stars in their seasons, fallen to the opened hearts of Those who look beyond both themselves and the Stars in heaven. That which is seen is not that which should be sought. Seek it in the Pearl that is set upon the Dragon’s brow.

Andrew D. Chumbley
Qutub: The Point