Stars in the Southern Hemisphere from my iPhone. (It's not good but you can see them which is pretty cool.) I always balk when it comes to writing about the stars. They are beautiful, ever-present, and ever-shifting — much like the march of my own life — across the country and globe, chasing whatever tomorrow may bring. The omnipresent constellations meander across the sky at different times throughout the year help keep me grounded and act as a reminder that we’re all insignificant, a gentle reminder that everything is gonna be okay. The subject of the stars is personal to me. Perhaps it’s their impartial view of the goings-on of our planet as seen from lightyears across the universe. Just like when I write about sailing, writing about the stars makes me itchy with the feeling that I’ve put too much of my heart on display. See, the stars are personal for me in their impartial view of the Earth from lightyears across the universe, and just like writing about sailing, writing about the stars makes me itchy because it feels like I’ve put too much of my heart on display. But I’ve had a faithful reader ask that I write about the stars in the Southern Hemisphere, and that is something I am happy to do. The first time I stopped and looked at the stars in the Southern Hemisphere was while I was studying abroad in Australia in 2015. I looked up and was absolutely blown away by just how bright the night sky was. We were out in a national park, far away from the city lights, and I couldn’t believe how much light was reaching, smiling back down at us. The band of the Milky Way stretched across the sky the way it does in pictures of space, making the small swath I’d learned to identify at home seem small and insignificant in comparison. I was confused by this brilliant celestial display. As were my classmates. We were told that the Northern Hemisphere faces out, away from the center of the galaxy, giving us our small piece of a spiraling arm of the Milky Way. But the Southern Hemisphere faces down, towards the center of the galaxy. Our perception that the night sky was brighter was not just an illusion, but based in fact. I’ve written previously about how I center myself at sea using the stars, and somehow it was just as comforting when I was visiting the Southern Hemisphere in late 2022. The magic of being out in the field and knowing that I would find constellations when I looked up, regardless of how unfamiliar they were. So you can imagine my shock when while laying in a field on Stewart Island in New Zealand trying to listen for kiwi birds when I looked up and saw none other than my favorite Northern Hemisphere constellation Orion rising in the sky but upside down! A friendly constellation as far from home as I’ve ever been? What a pleasant surprise. I’m a diurnal creature by habit, but the stars remind me of my love of camping and adventure and storytelling because it feels like they connect all of those elements of my life. Of course, my love of storytelling is a big part of my love of music, and the song “Southern Cross” by Crosby, Stills, and Nash has been an essential on my Going to Sea playlist for many years. While sitting on Heron Island with Dave, we had just finished relocating a sea turtle nest to one of his experimental plots when a mother sea turtle crawled up next to us (outside our testing area this time) and decided to dig her own nest on the beach. In consideration of this turtle, we turned off our lights, and sat listening to her do her thing while we looked up at the night sky. Heron Island is far enough from the mainland which allows for some of the best stargazing I’ve ever done. Sitting on the beach stuck between turtle science and natural turtle behavior, Dave pointed out the Southern Cross, shining and unmistakable in the night sky. The magic of that moment and the shared joy of recognizing the same set of stars is a theme throughout my life that I’m happy to carry with me. While working in New Zealand, I got the Southern Cross tattooed on my ankle, and earlier this spring I added Orion to my own star map on my body, facing the way he does from home. I don’t know all that much about the stars and space, but I think that is part of the magic for me. The more I learn, the more comfort it brings me as I get to explore our little blue planet and look up at the night sky. The Southern Cross over my penguin (Mumble), a nice reminder of the Southern Hemisphere, even when I live and work thousands of miles away. (I have Orion on the other side now too!)
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AuthorBree Gibbs, here. I'm a recent Master's Grad just trying to share what it's like to be a trash scientist (for those who aren't in the know, I'm a marine biologist). Categories
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