Global Sleep Under the Stars Day

Joey Carlson
MSMU Class of 2025

Very often I walk through the woods by my house. It is stunning how magical such a place can be, even to an adult, if only he is left to his own thoughts. Once, a bird landed along the path before me, in much the same way Miss Dickinson’s did. Happy to have a companion, I looked for a while, expecting it to fly away and the moment to be lost soon enough. Well, the bird did not fly away, and as I moved closer, it kept hopping along beside me. Soon I had walked a good part of the path following the bird, half expecting Aslan or the Lord Jesus to be around the corner. Eventually the bird took a turn I could not follow, into a neighbor's yard, and I left begrudgingly. The birds are good friends, I think, and the older I get, the more I envy them. The birds seem to me to be content doing what they are meant to be doing – not just flying, but, among other things, sleeping outside. Birds manage their whole lives outdoors, and spend much of their time in the sky. The modern person could probably be said to live in the opposite manner.

The sky is surprising. The sky is constant; it is there for everyone to see, yet few people look up. Life keeps us from looking up, but in doing so we forget to live, we forget that there is something better, something constant, something strange, something surprising and beautiful and lovely and messy but perfect, always above us and with us, as if enveloping the space we take up and guiding our course through the heavens. Instead, we go to sleep looking at the ceiling; We trade the stars for nightlights and security.

August 8th is Global Sleep Under the Stars Day. The whole idea of sleeping under the stars has made me think about humanity’s relationship with nature. Should we be as separate as we are now from nature? Certainly not. People suffer desperately without sunlight, it seems; Vitamin D ought to be the easiest vitamin to get but deficiencies are common. Without going outside regularly, the body’s serotonin levels drop, and it is difficult not to feel depressed. It is easy to realize that our concrete castles are making us feel bad; after all, we have an incredible amount in common with animals, even with birds, and animals certainly do not avoid the outdoors. I am certainly happy with my air conditioning and comfortable mattress, but I also know that desiring comfort is often an easy way to make a bad choice. It is natural of course, but it might very well lead to unnatural conditions for the human person.

I have a dog that is somewhat crazy. We found out that she is inbred, and currently she is on prozac for her clinical anxiety, and she barks all the time, etc. One night, sometime after midnight, I happened to be up, and found my dog waiting at the door for me to let her out. This is not incredibly uncommon, since dogs need to use the restroom in the middle of the night as often as their human counterparts. But after waiting about ten minutes, I realized that she was not coming in; in fact she was way back in the yard and out of sight. It was winter, so I was anxious to get her back in, but I went outside looking for her. I found her contently sitting in a field of grass, not a care in the world. Already I was impressed. I tried to bring her in, but she would put both paws on me as if she were giving me a hug, and then roll onto the ground. I figured, if you can’t beat them, join them, and I laid down next to her. The stars were perfect. I realized that this might be the only time she ever gets where everything is quiet. We live near a highway, which is partly why she barks so often, but at 12:30am, you couldn’t hear a sound.

My dog was raised on a farm. We made the mistake of picking the puppy chasing the guinea hens (she still has an identical energy). We should have known then that a dog that had never been indoors before would always prefer the sky. I wonder if we are something like that, if we human beings are made for one thing and we are born into a broken world that keeps it from us. I don’t think that we are supposed to sleep outside all the time, or even that we are necessarily made for that. I’m really not sure what I think.

I get a little teary-eyed thinking about my dog out in the field. I like to think that I understand what that’s like – all the time being surrounded by unnatural noise, and only desiring something natural and quiet and simple. The birds in the air are a little freer than my dog. Sure, they are not nearly as comfortable as housepets (as often as my pets have taken my spot on the couch, they’re more comfortable than I am), but they have something that we do not have. When they go to sleep, they do not see a dark wall above them or a light in the corner, but they see the whole universe stretched out before them. I think we would be better off if we got comfortable doing the same thing.

Read other articles by Joe Carlson