Nick Blocha
I hope my photos will suffice, for here in the dark room with the warm light of the bedside lamp on the brittle yet still green cedar twig I picked on the solstice, what I write will not compare to my inner affections sitting out there under the starry heavens. How could I summon the truth of them in this chamber of sleep, walled and ceilinged with its tan paint? It is so vastly different and memory fades.
It is 8pm in late January on West Okoboji Lake. There are minor castings of light all around the ringed horizon. Arnolds Park is, of course, bright even now, but generally on our part of the lake there is still the blessing of one’s ability to see the stars at night. Such ability is a connection to the universe which I crave. I am one who craves the stars, to arch my head whether it be 8- or 80-degrees F. outside so I am able to spot the stories written in the sky. Ancient tales and maps above were used and have been read since before consciousness of words evolved. Oh, to bear witness to the change of the massively little dots of gleaming brightness, some showing red where the others are more of a white.
The conjunction of the planets is now. They are aligning. Much happens far beyond our grasp. I don’t recall which day they are perfectly so, be it the 19th or 28th of January, but this is what I crave; to hear the stories of the planets, once called the Gods; Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Venus. Without nature… without a break in our energy of light harnessed into glass bulbs which buzz across the otherwise silent air, we cannot bear witness to the stories in the lights above. Our ability to do so will only continue to deplete without a restriction of our hand, our drills, our concrete, and our power.
Even here, where you may get lost in the stars, there is still a faint light, westward, from the dark, silhouetted land and you again realize… There are lights ringing all around the base of the dome… even here on the Okobojis. Though I may see the outline of the Milky-Way if I remain and gaze long enough, darkness, true darkness and silence, is reserved to the deserts of west Texas, the Appalachian evergreens, and the dry mountains of Washington state. I am blessed to have seen them, and I am blessed here to have stretches of land which have no light source, or a relatively small one if any emanates forth. So many do not realize just how intensely within the cities we make, that all one often gets to experience is the radiant light of humankind.
Industry may claim to be a force of God, but they are killing ours, and they are taking away our ability to sit under them and listen. I think about fantasy, stories that help us understand the magic and questions of our reality a little more. In the depths of Mordor, a single star was visible through the overcast of mechanistic smoke of industry. A beacon to one’s life sung from the heavens. In the cities I’ve lived in, the smallest hosting 3 million, the stars are faded by the never-ending hue and hum from the ground built upon and poured over, sprayed and tilled by us and ours. In the cities I’ve lived in, I’ve felt like Sam, pressing on, diligent and dutiful, looking up hopes of any light through the darkness. I was lucky enough to be a kid where I could gaze and absorb the stars at any given moment, feel the vastness of space, and to know there is more, much more, than our human creations.
Beings of light we are. Children of stars, gifted the consciousness of our minds and the fire of our hearts. Children of the Earth in our flesh and blood. Together we are human. When the day comes that we no longer may see a twinkle of magic in the night sky above, that will be the day our souls are truly lost, and we will be cursed to wander in our own fog of colored light accompanied by that ever-present, skull-rattling hum of electricity. I can feel the vibrations within my head no matter where I go. When others believe all to be silent, I can hear it in the walls, the ever-present, tingling buzz.
Even here at the Okobojis, with our faint yet present horizonal ring of industry, I may venture into the dark and see the many stars. No matter the internal depths I swim through, no matter the rancor I face within or without, the family I love and fight with of space and of the Earth, I may go and crane my neck up, lie on my back, and be reminded of the ancient and vastness of life itself, as well as the half of me, and all of us alike, which is star-born.
About The Author
Nick Blocha is serving as a Land and Water Steward via Green Iowa AmeriCorps at the Iowa Lakeside Labs (ILL) in Milford, Iowa. Sister lab to the state hygienists in Iowa City, ILL analyzes water samples from around the state, hosts researchers and students, artists and writers, and aids in a number of environmental and community efforts with a multitude of partnering organizations and government agencies.
With a background in the arts and storytelling, and as a long-time environmental enthusiast, Nick grew up as a barefoot hippie in the woods of North Carolina and Atlanta, and values the service they can provide and assist with via the GIA program. Nick seeks to focus on the spaces where human society and nature intersect and coexist in harmony.