A Confluence of Space, Time, and Music

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Last night I saw the Southern Cross for the first time. We had just spent a fabulous evening with our new friend Leonardo. We met Leo while sledding with Wolf a couple weeks ago. It just so happens that an amazing sledding hill sits less than a half mile from our place and ends in Leo´s front yard. One catalyst of our fast friendship with Leo is that he plays guitar. Last night was the second time we got together to practice one of his favorite songs. Believe it or not, banjo can accompany guitar on Spanish rock songs.

Despite his English being no better than my Spanish, we have been getting along great. It's especially good when Jane is there to translate and facilitate the conversation. Last night, Leo was gracious enough to invite us over to dinner. I came over early so we could practice together. Jane and Wolf came a little later for dinner. The evening was filled with great food, great homebrew from Leo's friend, and great conversation. Wolf even sang for us on Leo's mic/amp setup.

At about 11:00 (yes, past all of our bedtimes!), we headed home for bed. As we crested the sledding hill, we got our first glimpse of the Patagonia night sky. It was magnificent! We've lived in Bariloche for almost six months now. For the first month we lived closer to the city so there was always too much other light around to see night skies like this one. For the last five months, we've lived on a remote peninsula on the Northwest end of town. However, during this time, not only have we been in pandemic lockdown so we haven't gotten out much in the evening, but also, it's been raining or snowing here nearly every night for the last two months. Last night was the exception. It was very clear and very dark.

So it was a truly amazing feeling when we looked up and saw the sky. It was so clear and bright, you could see the Milky Way. I was physically affected by the grandeur. Perhaps influenced by the beer and the fabulous evening too. It was a feeling of calm, oneness, and awe. Jane expressed her amazement too.

As we walked and chattered about how incredible the sky was, Jane wondered if we could find the Southern Cross. We couldn't see it yet since trees thickly lined the road and blocked our view. I said to Jane that I thought there was a song about the Southern Cross - “When you see the Southern Cross for the fist time, da da-da, da da, da-da da-da.” We pulled the song up on Youtube and listened and sang along (as I hope you are doing now) as we walked home.

After listening to the song two or three times to heighten our anticipation, lo and behold, the trees cleared, and we saw it – The Southern Cross. It was actually a little hard to make out because there were so many stars in the sky. But there was no mistaking it. Just beautiful!

We arrived home, stood out in the snow a while longer gawking at the stars, and went in. I had, as Jane seemed to too, this natural high that lasted until going to bed. It was all we could talk about – the sky, the cross, the stars, the evening. We were further inspired as Jane shared some of the comments made on Youtube. Several people related their personal stories about the song. They had also been deeply affected by a confluence of space, time, and music.

Then it was time to tuck Casey in his chair for the night, kiss Jane, and go to bed. I lay in bed, drifting off to sleep with extreme contentment, in this winter wonderland, with a billion stars shining above, understanding now why I came this way.