That thing

After a refreshing walk in the white mountains, with none but the four of us to be seen for endless miles in all directions, we set up camp somewhere in the vacuous expanse that is Kazakhstan. We gathered round the fire and enjoyed drinking and telling stories.

The big dipper threatens to pour water on our fire.

The stars came out in countless numbers and circled over us as we watched the moon set and, subsequently, the milky way set.

I awoke in the night and went for a quick trip to the John. On my way back to the tent I was struck by that thing. It doesn't happen often, and it's been a while for me so it seemed all the more profound. It's usually prompted by a celestial sight, which triggers the sensation of basic reasoning - which is more likely to be the recounting of a science lesson than it is actually original thought. 

As the fire glows, the milky way sets over our tent.

The moon setting, and subsequently the milky way setting, and the view of a trillion stars, all of different colour and brilliance, gave me a real visceral, spacial sense of the galaxy and how we're sitting on a rock that's spinning, while flying, in a vast expanse of nothing - something even bigger than Kazakhstan! - with a few negligible concentrations of mass here and there, and how small a part of this magnificent mechanism I really am. I didn't know anything new; I didn't understand anything differently; but it all seemed so real and profound that I had the sensation that suddenly things were more clear than before. They weren't; they were just more fresh; but even that is exhillerating! Then I went back to bed.