Tonight I have a great perspective: I can actually see how big the sky is and how small the world is. Right now I’m laying down on crew deck and looking up at the stars. We’re in the middle of the Amazon, so all the lights are off on the open decks. More stars came out for this special occasion. People don’t even know I’m up here, hiding in the shadows like the Phantom of the Opera, as far away from the ship as possible yet still onboard.
I’m in the land (or water) where Bossa Nova came from—these are the very same quiet nights and quiet stars that I’ve heard so much about.
I love looking at the stars … They help me think more clearly; it’s almost like they bring the right thoughts out of me. They help me remember who I really am.
For the first night in weeks, the ship remains level and still on the waters, effortlessly gliding through the night rather than fighting against the waves. And instead of the usual blustery crew deck atmosphere, there’s just barely a breeze. The night air is soft and gentle and warm, like a lover’s breath when they snuggle up close for a lingering goodnight kiss.
It is pretty intimate. There are only four of us up here: Me, Simon, Garfunkel, and God.
Okay, there were some special guest appearances on my playlist as well. I’m listening to the music of the night.
Images of broken light that dance before me like a million eyes, they call me on and on across the universe.
Every song I play feels like it was written and performed just for this occasion. Somehow they’re all perfectly suited to the moment. The beautiful soft melodies and airy harmonies hummed in “The Boxer” are enhanced by the dark and boundless expanse above. It feels like this is the atmosphere in which that song was always meant to be heard. The chords of the delicate strings and echoing horn disappear into the darkness with a hush that’s somehow gentle and dramatic all at once—like the stars themselves, I suppose.
The moon is big and yellow and rising in the distance. It’s still low in the sky, just waking up.
I don’t ever want to leave this beautiful place. I don’t mean the Amazon; I mean this moment. I wish I could stay here forever. Yet another perfect song comes to mind: “We could stay here, stay out all night. No one would know—us and the moonlight.”
The only problem that exists in my own little world up here is that my heavy headphones keep slipping down to touch the deck. Gravity unfortunately still exists in my personal realm. Nothing’s gonna change my world.
The moon creeps higher to my left, and the stars sweep further across the sky and toward my right. The moon gets brighter and the stars get dimmer. I even saw a shooting star. I swear it had an orange fire to it.
In the future when people ask me about some of the parts I enjoyed most about this contract and this job and this life, tonight will come to mind. This night is perfect. It is a moment of unsurpassable beauty, and it’s entirely my own.
Of course there are a few people who come to mind that I would have loved to share this with; I can think of a few who wouldn’t understand it, and a few who would be equally in awe of it. It would have been incredible to share this world with someone else just so they’d see this serene beauty. Hopefully my words have done it justice. I will always remember it as one of the most amazing things I ever got to experience.