The Rucksack Letters - Birthday in the Stars

I don't believe in astrology; I'm a Sagittarian and we're skeptical.
- Arthur C. Clarke

August 4, 2001 - Asheville, North Carolina
I turned thirty today - a measured blend of dread and anticipation greet me at the beginning of my fourth decade of treading this planet. I spent the day doing what I enjoy most - wandering the streets of Asheville, thumbing my way through bookstores, and writing in the shadow of a half-full cup of coffee at a street side café.
I collected several of the free, alternative newspapers Asheville has to offer, and read them over a lunch of Denny's hash browns, doubled and all the way, in lieu of the free birthday meal I was dismayed to find Denny's no longer offers. But my waitress countered with a hearty piece of peanut butter pie, and I've never tasted better.
Among the newspapers was a rag of spiritual renewal and excitement for the new millennium called "Spirit in the Smokies" that offered an interview with James Redfield. I had seen the author of such books as The Celestine Prophecy and The Celestine Vision the other night at Malaprop's Book Store. I've only read the first book, but it happened to be a few months before I decided to go on this journey, so I feel that it, in part, had a great deal to do with my current quest. And it just so happens that it was Mr. Redfield's first public engagement in Asheville, though he probably visits here more often than I do. He spoke of an impending spiritual renewal that is heavily apparent in Asheville and is also building around the world. I can't speak for anyone else, but it's definitely building in me.
The newspaper also offered theories of planetary alignment and great changes about to take place as Saturn transits into opposition with Pluto. Now, I've never been one to give much credence to horoscopes and the like, but upon the expansion of my faith into the realm of possibilities and away from the theories that I have so long believed to be the one and only truth, I've decided not to limit God with what I believe. My years in the Church taught me little about the ways God can speak outside of the Holy Bible and the still, small voice one may occasionally hear on bended knee. Astrology was seen as witchcraft - to be avoided as sin like alcohol, whorehouses, and soap operas. In different times than these, in different places than where I am, it was spoken of as evil, or it was not spoken of at all.
Never did I understand that the magi who brought gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh to the baby Jesus were astrologers themselves. Nor did I understand the implication of a new star created to herald Jesus' birth as an event worthy of recognition in more than the human consciousness. When I think about it now, doesn't the idea of such communication among the cosmos make it remotely possible that God could use the stars to tell us other things as well? For so long, it seemed forbidden for me to even consider that the One who hung the starts could have possibly put them into a pattern - an age-old chart attesting the past, present, and future of the third rock from the sun.
It may be my imagination, idealism run amuck, but as these orbits align, I can feel the tension mounting. Or that may just be the crick in my neck from sleeping on Matt's sofa. Be it a causal effect or a proclamation, I do not know, but it's myopic to think that our current situation is not at all related to our neighbors'. As the revolutions of the earth around the sun, and the moon around the earth, bring us night, day, summer, and winter, is it not possible that further rotations of other celestial bodies synchronize with energies beyond space and time to resources as mysterious and uncharted as the planets representing them?
A year ago, I sure as hell didn't think I would be where I am now. Do I think this means something, the fact that I'm reading these ideas over hash browns and peanut butter pie on my thirtieth birthday? Do I really think great change is coming? Hell, yeah, I do. I'm just searching for answers beyond what I already think I know - measuring truth in theories, questioning my beliefs, and trusting more in my intuition. It's possible I'll never find the answers I'm looking for, but it won't be for a lack of looking.
I ended my day in the beguiling serenity of the French Broad River Park, where I sat alongside the wobbly, figure eight path and considered how tempting it would be to end my journey here and spend my days in the Blue Ridge shadows. But as silence was broken by lazy, Saturday afternoon traffic over the rock-lapping cream and coffee water of the French Broad River, I realized that I still had a long way to go on my journey and must appreciate what is and still welcome what is to come.


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